Ball curry, rice, and all things nice

American Express Bakery’s Plum Pudding. The dish has a different interpretation in the Anglo-Indian phrasebook. PIC COURTESY/AMERICAN EXPRESS BAKERY FACEBOOK

She looks like a real plum pudding!" My nana (grandmother) exclaimed to the family after Sunday mass. Post her session on the latest goings-on in the parish with her gang of golden girls; this sighting grabbed her attention the most. The ‘plum pudding' analogy was reserved for a recently-married bride who had returned to Tangy (Tangasseri in Kollam for outsiders) for her first Christmas after settling with her husband of "good colour" in Dubai. Soon, I realised that it referred to her having added kilos since the white wedding and her hourglass figure was a talking point. I wondered if nana meant ‘plum' or ‘plump'. Despite being silently horrified at her unfiltered comments, this Bombay Anglo-Indian soon realised over several visits to the outposts of the community that such expressions were common parlance. Interestingly, I also stumbled upon the fact that our culinary ecosystem found quirky ways of entering the community's delightfully eclectic vocabulary.

A recent post on social media by the city's favourite, American Express Bakery, nudging customers to buy their famed Christmas Plum Pudding, took me on a nostalgic tour, as I jogged the mind to that priceless episode. It whetted the appetite, and made me explore her prized meat safe, figuratively speaking, to scour for more stories. For the uninitiated, the meat safe was the precursor to the refrigerator in most Anglo-Indian homes. The sturdy wooden cupboard was made with wire or net gauze for ventilation, and it could store perishable food items for long periods of time. It stood high off the floor with its four legs set in cases of water to prevent ants and roaches from reaching the food. This term too was derived from a simple explanation: It kept the meat safe. Sometimes, it was also referred to as ‘Doolie.' Oh, if you're wondering about American Express Bakery's star item, we'll vouch for it.

The Bombay Duck's slim appearance caught the attention of wordsmiths from the Anglo-Indian community. PIC COURTESY/animalia.bio

One of the earliest food-inspired phrases that I heard was direct inspiration from my home city - Bombay. Turns out, Anglos from other cities and towns had a specific phrase for emaciated, extremely thin-framed women. It didn't matter if they hailed from the city or not. During the post-mortem of a house party in Madras [never Chennai for the Anglos] on New Year's Eve, my grandmother remarked, "Goodness me! Did you see Eileen's daughter, Jeannette? She looks like a pucca Bombay Duck!" My 12-year-old self was in shock. I was perplexed why this petite, sweet-looking girl was being equated to an ugly-looking fish. I had also heard variants of it, like ‘Dying Duck.'

Another interesting term was reserved for a popular drink, which I'd hear older cousins whisper about during annual Christmas get-togethers. "Did you taste OT?... I had a few sips because papa [grandfather] left the bar cabinet open." Soon, I realised that OT stood for ‘Other Thing.' It was initially developed as a non-alcoholic drink to aid in digestion after elaborate festive meals, especially post-Christmas or family feasts. Every home has its own version of the recipe with tweaks in the ingredient ratios. It has healing properties, and is made from ginger, cardamom, cinnamon, clove and nutmeg, with the juice of limes. No wonder the uncles in the group would down glass after another with no regrets or eye rolls from their wives! Of course, there is a band of inspired mixologists of a certain vintage who do a pretty neat alcoholic version of OT.

A constant rant from my nana during Christmas holiday breaks would be when a few older mischievous cousin brothers would get into major trouble (read: stealing mangoes from the neighbour's tree; toppling the rickshaw puller; hiding her favourite ‘church' sandals). "You'll get kicking and hoppers (appams) from me if you repeat this mischief," she'd scold them while chasing them around the courtyard in her adorable frock. We all know that kicking meant a sound pasting, but pray, why hoppers? I was too young to probe my nana about its origins, but later mustered the courage to ask a senior aunt. She laughed,
"My girl, we love our hoppers, don't we? So, we ensured it found its way in our abuses, too."

This term is high on my list of favourites. "Child, why haven't you tried the ‘Bad Word Curry' with some yellow rice?" an aunt genuinely enquired at the buffet for a distant relative's christening party. Post the surprise utterance, clueless me had to ask an older cousin. A long laughter session ensued. It is a term that god-fearing Anglo-Indians use to refer to our staple dish - Ball Curry! It's a meat-based kofta curry that's stood the test of time and is a must on menus during festivals and daily meals.

I'll sign off with a delight that leads to guffaws at most Anglo-Indian social gatherings: "Have you tasted Mother-in-Law's Tongue? It's right there, beside the Pulao." This refers to Devil Chutney, an accompaniment to a meal made from chillies and vinegar. This is as spicy as the utterances from a mother-in-law, and that's how the name stuck. Given the already low numbers of our community, I hope no Anglo-Indian was harmed during the making or eating of this dish.

Here's wishing mid-day's readers a blessed and hearty Christmas!

mid-day's Features Editor Fiona Fernandez relishes the city's sights, sounds, smells and stones...wherever the ink and the inclination takes her.
She tweets @bombayana. Send your feedback to mailbag@mid-day.com
The views expressed in this column are the individual's and don't represent those of the paper.