This column is just "offal"

THIS column has a very melancholy origin. I was trawling through social media the other day, as I am fond of doing, and on Facebook popped up a familiar face and profile. It was former colleague, the late Deena Pillay, the legend, popularly known as Papa Bear to the kiddies.

He was a known gastrophile or gastronome. He did not just enjoy good food; he could put the ladle where his AMC pot was. He and I shared a penchant for what he called, as do many even these days, “running fowl”. Of course, you can only enjoy it when it stops running and is merrily simmering amid spices in the aforementioned pot.

We both also had a passion for all things offal – you know trotters, tripe, sheepshead and pluck. I know some talk it and not walk it. Therein comes another Indian delicacy for some. Walkies and talkies. Also known as chicken head and feet. Now I must fess up that personally I can’t stomach that. That’s where I draw the line in my culinary ventures, although my maternal grandmother relished the dish.

As for fresh cut Cornish hen and cull (Zulu fowl), my dear late mom always said I cook it better than she did. I suppose the proof of the pudding is in the eating, but I will accept the compliment. The strange thing is when we have friends over for a meal and serve fresh cut fowl curry, the young ones invariably won’t eat it.

Now I don’t know if it is because they genuinely don’t have a taste for it or they just want to be different and the poor sacrificed bird is their form of social protest. Well, when you speak to older ones about their childhood days it is eye-opening to hear about their eating regimen. Money being a scarcity, many had to subsist almost daily on a diet of mielie rice and dhalL, with spicy pickles to flavour it.

Families were also regularly fueled by beans and other legumes. Only on very special occasions, such as a Saturday, there was meat on the menu or when visitors were anticipated, then the much-awaited command, “Catch a fowl” was heard. The latter entailed scurrying after a chicken in the yard and the severely harassed bird then gave credence to the phrase “poultry in motion” as it literally flew for its life.

It was considered a bonus when granny made a few rotis smeared with a bit of ghee. Herbs picked fresh from the garden and free of pesticides were consumed with delight. Jackfruit was another favourite-boiled, rolled in batter and then fried – it was a good substitute for fish and had a divine taste that lingered on the palate. Green banana braised with spices was also a staple. In the old days, mothers would usually eat last after seeing father and the children satiated and would then without protest eat just the leftover gravy and potato.

She was content that her loved ones had the best of the meal. In old England, poor families had a piece of smoked meat that hung permanently on a length of string over the stove and was dipped into the daily vegetable meal. The meat was briefly introduced to the other ingredients to make the bland meal more appetising and palatable. When we ruminate on those sorry conditions suffered in days gone by, one could get irked at our kids for being fussy at the abundance of food readily available to them these days.

Today they want to eat the “breast part” of the chicken or just Nandos. Granted, even I am trying to get to the bottom of how some find eating the parson’s nose of the chicken so delightful. These days, Indians are among the biggest supporters of dining out in restaurants. Whereas some are fussy as to eating beef and pork at home, these are eaten with great relish away from the eyes of their seniors. A typical case of forbidden food tastes better. A succulent, medium-rare steak is a popular choice of dish for teenagers.

My mom told me that when she was a young girl, offal like sheepshead and trotters were usually given away free by butcheries. Is it not ironic how these days they are priced quite substantially and are popular dishes on our weekend menus, cholesterol notwithstanding? Needless to say, our young ones usually find them quite “awful”. One of the most anticipated features of a Hindi wedding is the puri and beans feature. A simple meal - yet oh so gratifying and unfortunately, ever so lingering.

Songs have even been written about it, making it a cultural masterpiece. I am eternally grateful for being born an Indian, even if it is just for having being weaned on the variety of dishes peculiar to our culture and the varied methods of cooking such. Sadly, other cultures have to be content with stewing, grilling, baking or braaiing. We have curries, breyanis, chutneys, tikkas, tandooris, rotis and the list is deliciously endless.

And the best part of being Indian is that our mothers and grandmothers love being in the kitchen and don’t mind spending long hours therein, turning out those edible masterpieces. They do it with pride and passion and usually our girths are increasing proof of the justice we do to their exertions. There is one aspect of eating back in the old days that is sorely missing and wanting today.

With all the deprivation and meagre choices of dishes then, the evening meal was a very special and intimate occasion where the entire family bonded as a cohesive unit. Maybe it is time to go back to that and make it a norm to eat together as a family. It will go a long way in uniting the family and bridging that ever-widening chasm called the “generation gap”. The family that dines together stays together.

Ravi Govender is a former POST sub-editor and Lotus FM radio presenter. He is a published author, a freelance editor and film producer in training. He can be contacted at: [email protected]

** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL or Independent Media. 

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