Tomato à la Nicoise

(An edited version of this piece was published in the July issue of National Geographic Traveller India)

The first time I held a Nicoise tomato, it was a moment of wonder. It was perhaps the label under this slightly misshapen, pert little berry with green pointy leaves that first sowed the idea of Nice in my overburdened mind. The husband and I were planning a trip to France while juggling deadlines, reorienting ourselves to South Indian ways (we had recently shifted to Bangalore) and struggling with an errant cook. I had to replenish groceries, read and edit manuscripts, plan a holiday and stick to a budget all in one crazy month before we took off for the much-awaited vacation. It was on one such day that I ran out of tomatoes among other things. Now Bangalore is a city of many choices. While the local markets provide a variety of fresh produce, the idea of being an incompetent haggler in an unfamiliar language is as unpleasant as it is a blow to the ego of a die-hard bargain hunter. So there I was on a pretty Sunday morning, in a bright, airy and air conditioned gourmet store sprawled across the top floor of a swanky city mall. The visit to this store was always more of an outing rather than a chore as unfamiliar food and artistic culinary displays always had a strange allure for me taking me to unknown lands on the culinary map. This particular store with its piles of delicate berries, smelly cheeses, exotic mushrooms and candied fruits, was our vicarious food trip across the world. Rare mushrooms, Mediterranean peppers and hairy tropical fruits jostled for space in this  alien smorgasbord straight out of a Ridley Scott masterpiece. 

It was here that I saw the wonder that was a Nicoise tomato. This was a strange cousin to the ubiquitous, varying-between-Rs-5-to-Rs-50-a-kilogram, commonly used berry of the not so deadly variant of the nightshade. Swaddled in paper tissue and carefully labelled ‘Vine-Ripened Nicoise Tomato’, this was like the discovery of a rare postage stamp to an unknown country. I picked up a couple of these prohibitively expensive, plump beauties and sniffed in their tart aroma and made a mental note to google “Nice”.

A month later and thousands of kilometres away, there I was in an old market burnished by the sun and fringed by the azure Mediterranean waters, staring at tomatoes again. Only this time they were all of the Nicoise variety. From dwarf green variants to oversized and ridged red berries, the food stands on the Cours Saleya were exploding with tomatoes. August was tomato season on the French Riviera and every dish was liberally sauced, every salad was abundant in and every sandwich was generously filled with these tomatoes.  

As one of the integral ingredients of the cuisine of the French Riviera and especially Nice otherwise called Cuisine Nissard, tomatoes are the stars of quite a few of the specialties of the region. We feasted on dishes that were crafted as tributes to the magnificent produce of the region which spanned the freshest seafood platters as well as the locally grown and sourced Mediterranean fruits, vegetables, cured meats and sausages as well as the lovely varieties of tomato. Even the simplest dishes, take for example the Coeur de Boeuf (beef heart) tomato and fresh mozzarella slices doused in virgin olive oil with some freshly cracked pepper and sea salt tasted just yum. And then there was the Salad Nicoise which was as much a French cultural icon as it was a personal favourite. The tuna, the anchovies, sun ripened tomatoes, local black olives, artichokes, fava beans and hardboiled eggs combine with salt, pepper and a simple vinaigrette to create a symphony of flavours and an ode to the sun and sea. I ate this on my first afternoon in Nice and on the way out. 

There is something about these heirloom tomatoes around these parts that goes perfectly with the innate style of this breezy seaside town on the French Riviera. While gorgeous women in designer hats with their little dogs walk the Promenade Anglais and sleek cars in tomato shades whizz up to the porch of the dazzling Negresco hotel, I contemplate the town and its laidback vibe. Part French, part Italian and all Mediterranean, Nice with its beautiful people and its unshackled bonhomie is a land that enjoys its seaside indulgences. As a haven for eclectic as it is encompassing, In Nice, the backpacker and the luxury traveller jostle for space at the same cafes in the vibrant streets of the Old Town. Art aficionados follow the trails of Matisse and Chagall while those who worship haute couture can find their boutiques and galleries and the bohemian lot can pick up quirky and vintage clothing from shops tucked away in narrow streets. Live music in the pubs till the wee hours to the opera at the grand Opera de Nice, to bustling historical open-air markets like Cours Saleya which are a treat for tomato eaters like, Nice is a panoply of food, drink and plenty and excuse the cliche which in this case rings true, a perfectly rejuvenating break for the mind, body and soul. 

It has been many days since I have returned from Nice to my regular life. Memories of that time have changed from the sharp clarity of a photograph and have acquired the softness of an impressionist painting. I remember odd things like the tomatoes and one single moment which I chose to preserve by scribbling a few lines on a ticket stub rather than take a photograph... 

This is our first day at the beach. The wind is in my hair, the sun warms my face, my toes curl against the smooth pebbles that keep the azure waters at bay. There is a fromage and heirloom tomato platter balancing on my knees, a glass of bubbly sits under my parasol, at arm’s reach. The man I love is sunning himself by my side. I think Nice is going to be quite lovely indeed...

Truck of Treats

                                           (This was published in BLink on 5 July, 2014)

A gleaming knife cuts effortlessly through a charred brisket to reveal a juicy and glistening pink interior. The meat is quickly sliced up, piled on to fluffy white bread slathered in rich butter, laden with pickles, topped with stretchy, melty cheese and toasted gently, a sandwich fit for the gods. 

While some could call this a slice of heaven, I had friends watching this scene with expressions of misery on their faces for this was extreme food porn designed to torture all those who love to eat. Even as the gorgeous Scarlett Johansson and Sofia Vergara slurp up fresh-from-the-stove herby pasta or dig into a melty-cheesy Cuban sandwich, strangely enough, your attention is drawn away from these beautiful women — to what they are eating. In Jon Favreau’s Chef, the screen is set ablaze by the food that is in turns sexy, playful, nostalgic, homely, sophisticated and always delicious. While the film itself is not without its flaws, the food that Jon Favreau pays homage to, is most definitely flawless. From the exquisite farm-fresh, and inspirational dishes crafted in his tiny home kitchen and presented on rustic wooden platters — the meal that could have impressed Internet millionaire and food critic, Ramsay Michel, once and for all, to a simple buttery, three cheese grilled sandwich that Chef Carl Casper makes for his son, every dish is honest and intends to please the person it is created for. His journey from Chef de Cuisine at a celebrated L.A. restaurant, to an out-of-work Internet joke, to a food truck hero, is one of discovery and love — of both the culinary and the human sort.

Jon Favreau’s Chef celebrates food and there is a beating heart at the squishy centre of this indie offering that is bound to leave you feeling warm and very, very hungry. This little film from the director renowned for his big ticket outings like Iron Man follows in the tradition of Chocolat (directed by Lasse Halstrom, 2000), Julie and Julia (directed by Nora Ephron, 2009), Woman on Top (directed by Fina Torres, 2000), Eat Drink Man Woman (directed by Ang Lee, 1994), Like Water for Chocolate (directed by Alfonso Arau, 1992), Babette’s Feast (directed by Gabriel Axel, 1987), and the delightful animated classic Ratatouille (directed by Brad Bird and Jan Pinkava, 2007), among others. 

This mix of big studio Hollywood films as well as indie and foreign cinema has a common thread. All of them capture the interplay between the cultural, emotional, sensual and extremely visual aspects of films food. Cooking and eating remain at the centre of the narrative while cultural mores, myths, stories, love, loss, sex and humour are stirred in as the secondary ingredients in food films, which can tickle the appetite like no other. 

Just like Chef Carl Casper, other underdogs of the culinary world include Remy the rat from Ratatouille whose biggest dream is to cook and Julie Powell from Julie and Julia who wants to transform her life through the magic of Julia Child’s recipes. These characters overcome great odds through determination, spirit, a little love from food critics, an occasional friendly chef spirit and some Internet hits and trends. Their stories are ones that leave the cockles of your heart toasty as well as inspire you to take that step, even if it be only off the edge of a first floor sublet above a grimy pizza parlour in Queens.

Cinematic representations of food intertwine myth, storytelling, culture and community. In Chocolat Juliet Binoche’s Vianna Rocher mixes together her decadent chocolate filled confections in a little French town under the disapproving aegis of its stern mayor, stirring up emotions and unraveling the true nature of people who live together in this apparently tightly knit community. Sometimes food takes on magic realist proportions and is used as symbolic representations of the protagonist’s emotions, be it love, lust, betrayal or sadness. The food that Tita cooks at her lover’s wedding feast causes sickness as well as great longing in the hearts of all those who eat it in Like Water for Chocolate. It is as much a reflection of her Mexican heritage as it is of her own personal dilemma. An enchanted crab and a stunning Penelope Cruz all clad in tomato red dresses (probably the only saving grace of the film) cook up a sensual repast that make strangers fall in love in Woman on Top. Food can be the connection and the bridge between estranged lovers, family members and members of a community. There is nothing more comforting than the warmth of a large family meal and it is this idea that forms the central tenets of Babette’s Feast and Eat Drink Man Woman. From lives and worlds as far apart as a small village on the Jutland coast in Denmark to Taipei, Taiwan, food plays the common role of a healing salve as well as the glue that holds families together. Thus Babette’s marvellous feast costing 10,000 francs and featuring quail with foie gras and truffle sauce, a blue cheese, fig, papaya, grape and pineapple platter, turtle soup, endive and walnut salad and rum cake with glaceed fruits is hardly all that different from Mr. Chu’s extravagant dinners for his daughters where he whips up delicacies like steamed chicken with black mushroom, shrimp and water chestnut croquettes and San Pei chicken from the fish he has raised and chickens he has bred to ensure his extremely high standards. 

Chef is in most parts a worthy successor to these films. It draws on many of their tropes and whips them together with a dollop of New Orleans jazz, Latin dance music, Facebook updates and Twitter feeds, making it a delectable all-American concoction about the indomitable human spirit. And as Chef Carl, his sous chef Martin and his son lip sync through the brass band version of Marvin Gaye’s ‘Sexual Healing’ in their food truck, riding across America selling their food dream, we realize that we have bought into it as well.