Maacher Jhol or Meen Kuzhambu : A Food Dilemma
“ Although, it is great to be at crossroads between two cultures but not so fun when having to pick one. “ Julia on exploring her epicurean evolution.
Illustration by Spandan Banerji
I grew up in a Bengali household, where fish was a staple in our daily meals, a source of joy, accounting for all auspicious occasions, from savory to comfort, in sickness and in celebration. Going to the fish market on a Sunday morning to get the best catch before the haggling madness conjured, was a tradition and an imminent mark of a cultured Bengali.
Being my authentic self, the quintessential Bengali in me could not do without her Macher Jhol Bhaat. Waking up to the sizzle of Maach bhaja in crackling mustard oil, Chingri Bhapa for lazy afternoons, or Paturi, (steamed fish wrapped in banana leaf) on more elaborate evenings were only some of the many common household delicacies that I came to relish and be very fond of.
I remember coming down with the yellow fever and the doctor prescribing me to have only light, bland food. Even though I am a healthy eater and didn’t mind all the boiled vegetables, soups, and stews three times a day, my sickness prolonged longer enough and had me give in to my craving for some soft, mushy, tender Rohu. Recovering yet sensitive to stronger proteins, it put Ma in a dilemma to nourish me back to health without developing an aversion to vegetables. She concocted a mild peppery fish curry, a hint of spice after so long, the healing aftertaste of which that yet lingers on my tongue.
Recipe
Rohu Curry with Winter Vegetables
Lightly fry freshly cut Rohu marinated in salt, 1/2 tsp red chili powder and lemon until golden brown. Dry roast Javetri , Jaiphal(nutmeg), coriander and cumin seeds and whole pepper until aromatic and blend to a fine powder. Temper some cumin seeds and 2 green chilies in hot oil. Add 1tsp ginger paste and sautee for 2-3min. Now, add all vegetables to your liking (Potato, Cauliflower, Ridge gourd, Pointed gourd, Carrots). Stir for a minute. Add the Masala powder and mix well till vegetables are nicely coated. Add water to not let vegetables stick to the pan and simmer for 3 min till cooked. Add in the fish and 1cup of water. Cover the pan and bring it to a boil. Adjust salt to taste. Serve with hot rice.
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Illustration By Spandan Banerji
My relationship with my roots hasn’t yet changed with me now living in the US but it took a liking to a new taste palette as I moved to Chennai for my undergrad. Accustomed to the familiar cooking with mustard, poppy and cumin seeds, came the uncharted flavors of kokum, coconut oil, tamarind, and curry leaves.
Packing a punch, I tried the Meen Kuzhambu for the first time at my food hall, and I was taken over by the unending delights of the Chettinad cuisine. Spicy and tangy, much like the cooler sibling you want. Adapting to the acquired taste didn’t require much of an effort and it was a good change away from home, drawing me closer to yet another.
And here I am writing this essay while my half and half heart gets to savor none of the two, dreaming with feet in two distant lands. Although, it is great to be at crossroads between two cultures but not so fun when having to pick one. I now resonate like the lovechild of a rosogolla and sambhar, a hodgepodge between a dosa and luchi, a food without identity, a genderless food.
Nonetheless, the heart grows fonder with distance, and so it would as I count my days to savor again my Ma’s Macher Jhol or it’s distant cousin from the south curing me of homesickness and filling me with warmth.
Recipe for Meen Kuzhambu can be found here.
Written by Julia Saha
