Signs That You Are A Foodie

You try every local flavor when you travel

You enjoy cooking these recipes with your own twist

You own a foodie page

You forget your diet routine when you see food

You are on a diet of food

You cannot stop talking about food

Your every breath is a food story

I knew for a fact that I will always be an eternal foodie. I live to eat and embrace this fun personality whole heartedly. It does not stop there; I am an influencer too! I influence those around me to join in on the feast and experience the joy of eating local flavours. This has happened many times. People in general don’t seem to complain and mostly get nostalgic about their childhood days.

Food does that to you. It evokes memories and creates new ones. You become a natural storyteller. My foodie story trail takes you through the long haul train to Shirdi from Namma Singara Chennai. We passed through Tamilnadu, Andhra, Karnataka before entering Maharashtra. As the train chugged along on its set course, it was the food landscape that had me intrigued and excited. My fellow passengers were foodies themselves; so it was an unimaginable bonus when they rattled off the dishes I must try at some of the train stations.

What held my attention was the signature bhelpuri versions that was unique to each vendor in the region. The bhel mix from Andhra was spicy to the hilt. I enjoyed it amidst tears of joy and smoke coming out of my ears. The proportion of puffed rice to the veggies, peanuts, ompudi, juice of lime, salt and chilli powder was a signature style that defines the personality of the food. The best version I enjoyed was at the famous Puntamba station, best known for its fresh guavas and guava orchards. The train stops here for a good 10 minutes to change the engine. So everyone steps out to stretch their legs, just look around, or eat. It din’t stop me that it was 9:00 am, an odd time for a chaat. I had already missed it on the onwards journey and was determined not to repeat my mistake twice. On the return, I walked over quickly, greedily to the seller and asked him to give me one bhel. Just looking at the magician deftly mix all the ingredients and create magic served in a newspaper is such an intimate food experience. It is hard to ignore that feeling.

In her childhood days, my mother and her cousin would sneak out of the house, inspite of being under the watchful eyes of my strict great-grandmother (a great woman, god bless her soul) to enjoy a cup of bhel with half-an-anna (50 paisa). The bhelpuri and the silly joy of outwitting their grandmother remains a favourite food tale in the house.

In Chennai, I was introduced to the Madras Bhelpuri House through my friend who assured me that this place serves the best bhelpuri in the city. I loved it and went back for more. Sometimes, I make my own bhelpuri mix at home with a cocktail of memories I have collected in my bhelpuri journey.

Isn’t life like a plate of bhelpuri too? A mix of so many ingredients, “sugar and spice, all that’s nice”, enjoyable and memorable for years to come…