India – Food & Travel Guide

Sitting in a small 100 seater aircraft circling over Verona, the city that is best known for being the setting for Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, I am struck by some Indian tourists who are obviously taking a very unusual (for them) holiday in Italy. The family is from rural Punjab, husband, wife and a one year old kid, dressed up to his ears in woolies for the European summer that is still cold for us from warmer tropical climes. Have they read Romeo and Juliet? Have they even heard of Shakespeare? And what are they going to make of this charming little town in Italy, with its well-preserved Roman air and architecture, its cafes and nightclubs, wine and olive oil, perfumed people in somber European blacks, so different from the colourful chaos and crowds in our own city and village bazaars?

At the black tie dinner that I get invited to on my second night in Verona, as part of exclusive proceedings at Vinitaly, the world’s largest wine fair that I am attending in my capacity as a food and wine writer at the Business Standard, our Indian group attracts a fair bit of attention. It’s not just the colour of our skins that counts—because, of course, around the Mediterranean, many of us can pass of as locals, it is our attire: The women are dressed in colourful sarees, for most part and one Swedish girl who is part of the Indian contingent because she works for an Indian wine company, has decided to emphasize her Indianness with a distinctive bindi. “You look beautiful… Indian women are beautiful,” says an importer from Korea. We giggle and ask “But what about our boys?”

It’s an alternate universe at the wine dinner. The setting is beautiful, against the backdrop of the Romanesque old city centre, a transparent tent has been pitched and inside beautiful people sit on several round tables, tuxedos and gowns very much in place. We all politely sip our wines—all the best labels from Italy—and go through the courses. Delicious unfamiliar food, a veal chop layered with some sweet fruit, and so forth in candle-lit ambience. As more wine gets passed around, and we engage in conversation with those on our left and right (bring out the etiquette book), familiarity begins to do the rounds. Prizes for best wine writing are being announced. But as the proceedings proceed in Italian, a sushi chef from Sweden giggles in my ear, “Hmm, very interesting!” And we parody the serious clapping all around us, not understanding a word of Italian, like two errant children. On my right, sits a charming young Italian winemaker. One of his wines is being served tonight and he is clearly proud of his tradition. “It’s in my blood” he says of winemaking and then proceeds to attempt to translate the entire evening’s contents for my benefit. No one talks recession, everyone is interested in India and they all promise to land up in our own land of plenty, and it’s a strange but enjoyable experience alright to interact with such complete strangers who have nothing in common with you but perhaps an interest in food and wine.

But things are not always so alien even in an alien country. At the cocktails (with Italian sparkling wine) that preceed the dinner, there are all kinds of concoctions being served up, cream, tomatoes and caviar and the like. But also chicken and veggie fritters that closely resemble our pakoras. They come in little paper packets, very neat, and have a sprinkling of salt and what I can only think of as chaat masala. The world is one.