Disclaimer: This is a fun blog. It is meant for entertainment purpose only. The writer has love and respect for all people and communities so no holier than thou comments please. Enjoy the blog.
Hi loves. We meet again. If you did not read my last blog, it was about the flood of workout videos on social media during this lockdown edition 1, 2 and 300. Also we are no longer friends.
The other disturbing (and I mean disturbing for a non-cook like me) trend on social media these days is the 500 million food pictures we see on a daily, no make that hourly basis. Everyone seems to have suddenly realized they are great cooks and have started cooking all these exotic and indigenous dishes. That by itself is not a problem. The actual catastrophe happens when these pictures are posted on social media for everyone to see and appreciate. I can understand the pride our newly born chefs feel when everyone and their grandmothers appreciate the post. But ladies please spare a thought for the non cooks like me who are fairly dependent on Maggi, popcorn and bread-jam.
My self esteem is plummeting faster than the share market these days, especially when I see little kids cooking, baking and rolling out pasta dough with a speed that would impress Gordon Ramsay.
This lockdown edition 504, that’s what it feels like at least, is tough on all of us. We are locked up in our houses, no maids to the rescue and hubby and kids with us 24*7 is not helping the mood. Yes I know at this time we need to keep ourselves creatively occupied. But please don’t do it at the cost of kitchen phobics like me.
In case you haven’t realised by now, I am a very poor cook. There are various degrees of comparison if you remember school grammar. These are….. poor, poorer, poorest. Bad, worse, worst. Well in cooking there is bad, worse and then….. yours truly. So you can sympathize with me on this one. Each well made, well photographed dish I see on social media seems like a kick in my gut. Literally.
These pictures are everywhere. The really instagrammable ones are amidst forests, or on mountaintops. How the hell did you pull that off man? Do you want me to believe that you had the energy to first stand in a hot kitchen, cook in this even hotter weather, then take it to the closest hill top near your house, and take a picture of it? Just the thought is already making me sweat. And it isn’t even hot today.
The last thing I want in this lockdown is to start questioning my credentials as a wife and mom. And that is exactly how I feel when I see women and kids cooking up delicacies, at the drop of a spatula.
Dum aloo biryani, risotto, pastas with black bean sauce and sushi hand rolled and served with wasabi. Now ladies… ladies… I understand that the route to a mans heart is through his tummy, but it can also be reached through other, creative ways, that are fun for us ladies too.
I love social media. No really I do. It is a medium for me to express my creativity as a writer, as a selfie photographer, and as a boomerang-picture-taking specialist. But these days, I cannot open my feed without someone displaying their culinary prowess in the form of home made bread, whole wheat no less, home made donuts, sugar free no less. The list is endless.
And what baffles my mind more is that in the midst of this lockdown where are the ingredients coming from? How do these wonderful food enthusiasts manage to get these exotic and semi exotic ingredients? I can barely get my hands on Maggi noodles and popcorn at the grocery stores without having to fight off other creatively-challenged, harassed moms like me. After much consideration on this issue, I have decided to send a written petition to Mr. Modi, asking him make a new rule stating that you need to feed me the dish if I appreciate your post on it on social media.
Till then, ladies, I am going to be a responsible citizen and socially, mentally and visually distance myself from pictures of your gastronomic delights and become “Aatm-nirbhar.”
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