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by Fabio Parasecoli

At first sight, it was just another vegetarian eatery in Bangalore, although better appointed and definitely more appealing than usual. Large groups and families, mostly in a festive mood, were enjoying a sprawling buffet dominated by a triumphant chocolate fountain, in the subdued and understated décor. Waiters in elegant grey suits quietly bussed tables and keep the food coming. Against the pleasurable background, the conversation unfolding among my table companions was curiously unsettling: I was being schooled on the meaning of the kali yuga, the era of cosmic decay and spiritual degeneration in the Vedic tradition, while savoring understated and sometimes startling vegetarian food. Apocalyptic reflections and attention to one’s physical and mental health seemed to go hand in hand at Sattvam, a restaurant that embraces sattvic food. The jet lag contributed to my sense of estrangement, having landed in India just a few hours before.

Of course, I needed guidance to understand what sattvic was about. Suresh Hinduja, one of the best-known food critics in town, who had taken me there with a friend, admitted that the food we were enjoying, subtle yet flavorful, actually would come across as unusual to many Indians as well. For the explanation of the principles behind it, he deferred to Arvind Chowdhary, one of the managing partners at Sattvam. Clearly, my knowledge of Indian religions and philosophies was showing its limits. The couple of courses on the topic I took in college, which in fact included the reading of the sacred text Bhagavad Gita, were not even remotely sufficient to understand the dishes that were being placed in front of me and I welcomed Arvind’s and Suresh’s guidance.

Many Indians—Hindus and Jains, the latter following stricter rules—practice vegetarianism for religious reasons and avoid meat, fish, eggs, and alcohol from their diets. Yes, eggs too are considered carriers of potential life and are for that reason taboo. Unlike in Western vegetarianism, dairy products, from yogurt to ghee (clarified butter) and paneer (the omnipresent fresh cheese) play a crucial role, differentiating Indian vegetarianism from Western veganism. However, Arvind clarified that the idea behind the restaurant is to bring sattvic food to an audience larger than the faithful few who may enjoy it at the temple where they meditate each morning.

Sattvic is one of the three categories that, in the Vedic tradition, define diet and contribute to an individual’s life style and attitude. Favoring spiritual clarity, sattvic foods differ from rajasic ones, which fire up passions and desires, and tamassic ones, which instead cause laziness and torpor. As spelled out on the restaurant’s website, “sattvic cialis price foods are rich and abundant in Prana, the universal life force. Onion, garlic and caffeine are taboo in a sattvic diet as they cause denseness in the body. According to the Vedas, sattvic foods are juicy, wholesome and pleasing to the heart, providing subtle nourishment for positive vitality. What makes sattvic food so unique and pleasurable is that all dishes are prepared and served fresh. Leftover food is never served or consumed. Hence sattvic foods have a very low probability of forming ama, or toxic build up in the body.”

Sounds familiar? Some might point out that this is a New-Age inflected reading of the Vedas. Despite the vastly different philosophical frameworks, I was hearing words and concepts that also pepper contemporary discussions among food enthusiasts in the West, and not only those familiar with Ayurvedic practices. Sattvic food needs to be fresh to ensure all its sustenance and, consequently, provisioning locally is not a choice, but a necessity. Organic, however, is not a priority due to the high price of that kind of produce. And although organic food is quickly growing in popularity, it is still appreciated by a relatively small segment of the public. The team members at Sattvam are also fully aware of modern nutritional science and, despite the abundant presence of ghee, the food they serve can be considered quite healthy within a Western nutritional framework, as it provides a balanced intake of carbs, fats, proteins, vitamins, and anti-oxidants. Such approach appeals to many among the Bangalore foodies, a growing community of food lovers who care about what they eat and carefully weigh quality, style, and value.

Although Sattvam’s buffet is more expensive than your run-of-the-mill vegetarian restaurant, it has enjoyed growing success. The plan is to attract patrons with tasty food and to explain why it is good for their bodies and spirituality after they have enjoyed their meals. The negotiations among business acumen, financial pressures, religious priorities, and the pleasures of the table provide a great window on the transformations taking place in the bustling, global city of Bangalore. At Sattvam, very modern concerns cohabit with a philosophy and a lifestyle whose principles were outlined a few millennia ago. I could not have had a better introduction to India.

 

Fabio Parasecoli is an Associate Professor and Coordinator of Food Studies at the School of Undergraduate Studies for The New School for Public Engagement. He also a Senior Editor of The Inquisitive Eater, and regular contributor to The Huffington Post. 

by Kunal Chandra

Photo Courtesy of Richard Rayner

There are two kinds of people when it comes to tattoos: those who have them and those who don’t. It’s that simple. Those who don’t have tattoos either don’t want one or can’t decide on their chosen ink. Some are reluctant because of the impending pain, some fear social repercussions and a majority are just unsure of the design that would become a permanent feature. I was a member of this group until a humble porcine being became an integral part of my life in Italy.

The pig plays a fundamental role in Italian gastronomic culture. The country, perhaps, makes the widest range of products from a single culling. Every part is revered, evident in the sheer variety of cured meats turned out by artisanal and large scale producers; culatello from the hind leg, capocallo from the shoulder, pancetta from the belly and guanciale from the cheeks. Pork fat, called lardo, derived from the back, effuses a meaty richness to any frugal dish transforming it instantly into a symphony on the palate. Then there are the ubiquitous ribs and loin or peculiar feet (zampone) cooked on the grill or in stews and braises. Every portion tastes better than the other.

These cuts support my belief in using the whole pig. With an increase in household incomes, consumers are buying costlier cuts of meat, typically found in top restaurants. The rate at which my friends consume tenderloin is both alarming and disturbing. But I question, isn’t it disrespectful to slay an animal just for a single need? It’s a similar perspective with ivory to elephants and fins to sharks. A few of my favourite chefs share a similar affinity for pigs.  Chef Fergus Henderson of St. John’s restaurant in London and Chef Andreas Dahlberg of the Bastard restaurant in Malmo are tireless crusaders of the nose to tail culinary philosophy, currently inspiring a new generation of carnivores to indulge in offal and entrails.

The location of my tattoo, on the lower rib cage, raised a few eyebrows and even more questions. Did it hurt? Are you crazy? Didn’t the needles sting you every time they reverberated over your ribs? The answer to all of the above is yes. But pain can be viewed as a positive feeling. Pain, in this context reminded me of how fragile life is, a part of being mortal just like the animals we enjoy eating. Call it sadistic or a triumph of empathy, but I wanted to feel a smidgen of the suffering felt by a pig as its death knell resounds midst its squeals. And the location close to my food friendly stomach was quite serendipitous.

The parts of the pig were written in Italian on the tattoo. This would ensure a lasting memory of the wonderful country – its language, the culture, the people, an incredible family of friends and life I have enjoyed. The words remind me of every slice of focaccia I have savoured with a cup of steaming espresso, each glass of prosecco had post work at aperitivo and platefuls of risotto with rivulets of unfiltered olive oil and an abundance of parmiggiano reggiano.

The tattoo was also an endeavour to help support local farmers, artisans and entrepreneurs. This piece of art was created by a local artist Elia (post consultation with a local butcher called Marco) who in the process of creating a customised work of food art has now reached out to over 500 students of my former university and even more gastronomes.

Lastly, every time I see myself in the mirror, the tattoo is a reminder of the moment I made a decision and stood by it. It resurrects the strength I have, the pain I can endure, the endless possibilities and beauty that lies beyond.

The humble pig may not be able to speak like Babe but it shows me the path to stay inspired each day and speak on its behalf to the food generation of today… or maybe until my next food tattoo.

Kunal Chandra is a recovering spice addict who has recently received a Masters in Food Culture and Communications in Italy and traversed the gastronomic pathways of Europe. He is back in India now on his latest culinary adventure. View his work at www.kunalchandra.com