Food for thought.

They say that the way to a man’s heart (including mine) is through his stomach. If your heart is full, you don’t feel that hungry. And what do you do when nobody’s particularly interested in finding the way to your heart, you ask?
Well, you do the second best thing. You cook yourself.
Take it from someone who spent a major part of the vacation desserting rather than disserting, the joys of baking brownies is like no other. Two portions of sinful gooey chocolate with heaps of decadent vanilla and a concoction of caramel can solve anything but world peace. And weight loss, probably. If you don’t believe me, take it up with my mother who tells me that breakfast is called so, because it’s the meal that breaks the fast.
What the city loses out it traffic and filth, it makes up in chugging out gastronomical delights., From the lasagna at Churchill’s to the Mississippi mud pie at Fountain’s, all the way to the Bombil Fry at Jaihind Lunch Home. A myriad mix of colours in a Gola cart, to the sizzle of a pound of butter on a plate of Pav Bhaji. After all, who doesn’t know of the pleasure of biting into the first French fry at McDonalds’, or sipping on a Tropical iceberg at an air-conditioned Café Coffee Day on a bright sunny day, when the weather seems so much nicer from inside.
In the post-Anthony Bourdain world where cooking is cool, you realise that the human body’s not a temple but an amusement park, one to indulge than implore, where the next slice of pizza becomes a necessity, or the last chicken dumpling is the key to survival, especially in a friend circle where food comes first, even before friends.
You might be eating Pain Au Chocolat and crackers with Goat Cheese at an upscale New York café, or eating fish and chips in the back seat of a moving car somewhere in London, you might even be binging on a margherita pizza in Rome, or something totally unidentifiable from a suspicious wok in the by lanes of Beijing, hunger knows no language, only its feeder. Whether it be hunger for food, or a primal hunger for power, for knowledge or sometimes, even for love.
Maybe I need some food for thought, or maybe I am just hungry.
I guess I’ll go eat.