Summertime...

And the living is easy…

 

I can’t be the only one who felt that spring lasted for precisely one week this year. We barely had time to take in the beauty of its blossoming flowers, its cool breezes and its mellow sunshine, before the summer was upon us, with all its blazing intensity.

 

Well, never mind. Nature will do what it does, and lesser mortals like us just have to make our peace with its capriciousness. And more to the point, make the most of a season that is heralded by a whole lot of heat and dust.

 

Thankfully, though, that’s not all there is to the Indian summer. The heat may be crippling but it does have its compensations. For one thing, this is the season of mellow fruitfulness (with due apologies to Keats) in the sub-continent. The season kicks off with juicy watermelons and melons, which are just the ticket for sweaty afternoons, spent in darkened rooms. Even before you have had your fill of them, the first mangoes start arriving in the market, filling the air with their heady aroma. 

 

My childhood memories of summer inevitably involve mangoes. In our home, they were quickly unpacked, washed and dunked into a pail of icy water to cool. We then spent an interminable hour, waiting for them to be ‘ready’ to eat – or, more accurately, suck. We would squeeze the mango all around to free the pulp, then make a small incision on the top, and begin aspirating the sweet mess into our mouths. Bliss.

 

That said, the fruit I most associate with summer is not mangoes, but litchis. Mangoes are well and good, and I enjoy them immensely, but in my mind, they are merely a holding operation until litchis arrive, in all their exquisite loveliness. There is something so beautiful about the litchi, all plump and voluptuous, encased in a bright red, prickly cover which you must unpeel with the greatest care so that you don’t puncture the skin quivering with juice underneath. There is nothing to beat the sensation of popping a perfectly peeled litchi in your mouth and feeling that explosion of flavor fill your senses.

 

What nature takes away with one hand in this season, it gives back with the other. So, what we lose out in spring flowers, we gain by way of flowering Laburnums (or Amaltas, to give them their Indian name). This is the time of year when the streets and parks come alive with the bright, yellow blooms of these trees, which brighten the horizon everywhere we look. I am particularly lucky to live on a street that has a profusion of these trees, and their beauty is enough to make me actually look forward to the heat of summer.

 

This is also the season when we can finally take some time off and go on vacation. This year may be a bit tricky, what with Covid still around us and cases showing a steady uptick. But you can always book a Covid test, and assuming you and your family are negative, pack up your car and drive to the hills for a break. Or head to the nearest beach, if that’s your thing. 

 

If the thought of travel in the times of Corona leaves you cold, never mind. Just hunker down at home, draw the curtains, make yourself a cold glass of Rooh Afza or Khus Sherbet, and settle down with a good book. Summer reading is the best kind, even if you can’t do it by the edge of a pool this year. There is just something about languorous, sultry afternoons and evenings that lend themselves to some serious – and not so serious – reading. 

 

As for myself, I will be perched over my kitchen sink, making a glorious mess of eating my daily mango. I will be sipping on a cool litchi drink (until the real thing arrives) as I plough my way through my summer reading list (more on that next time). I will be wandering down my street, taking in the beauty of the laburnums while I can. And I will be dreaming of a hill holiday, where I can escape the heat of the plains for a glorious few days.

 

The heat is on...

There's much to hate about an Indian summer; but it does come with its own compensations

Yes, everyone hates a good summer. Well, at least, in India we do. And anyone who has lived through a summer in this country will know exactly why.

This is that time of year when it's so hot that it is impossible to even cool down with a cold shower. It doesn't matter that your geyser has been turned off for months. The moment you turn the faucet on, boiling water, which has been steadily heating up in the overhead tank, rains down to scald your head and shoulders. And as you emerge, all pink and red like a boiled lobster, you begin to wonder why you even bothered; you are sweaty again in a matter of seconds.

This is the time of year when the sun is so hot that even the tar on the roads melts under its assault; so what chance do we mere mortals stand? This is when tempers fray, when road rage leads to people actually killing each other, sometimes over something as minor as a parking dispute.

Yes, there is a lot to hate about the Indian summer. But funnily enough, that’s not why I detest this season with a deep and abiding passion. The reasons behind my loathing are entirely different.

The thing that really gets me got under the collar (apart from the heat, of course) is having to listen to people endlessly moaning and groaning and whining and whinging about the heat. Because whenever the mercury soars, so do the number of social media posts about HOW HOT it is! Oh my God, it really is HOT!

Well, what did you bloody expect? You are in the middle of an Indian summer. The mercury will hit the 40-degree mark and even go a tad above occasionally. The scorching sun will beat down on your mercilessly. Going outdoors will seem like stepping into an oven. And when the pre-monsoon showers hit, the humidity will add to your woes. But that is how it always was. That's how it is. And that's how it will always be. Deal with it. Or, as the saying goes, if you can't stand the heat, get out of the bloody furnace.

The only people who get a free pass on the complaining front are those who actually do spend time outdoors, doing all the jobs that we would never deign to: the security guards, the traffic cops, the drivers, the scooterwallahs, those running street-side stalls and the like, who roast in the sun all through the day. If they want to moan, they have earned the right to do so, one sunstroke attack at a time. But if you go from an air-conditioned house to an air-conditioned office in your air-conditioned car, then sorry, you really have no business complaining.

The only people who are more annoying than those who gripe ceaselessly about the heat are the once who have travelled to cooler climes to escape the hell that is the Indian summer. No, it's not enough for these people to just enjoy the balmy weather wherever the hell it is that they have decamped to. And they certainly don't have the decency to draw a discreet veil over their lovely little vacations in the Swiss Alps, the French Riviera, or whichever is the trendy summer destination of the moment.

Oh no, that would not do at all. They have to rub their privileged lives in our faces by posting pictures of all the amazing things they are getting up to while we gently roast in India. There they are, skiing down the mountains, drinking champagne at the seaside, or even dining al fresco in scenic locations. It's enough to make your head explode (and not because of the heat, either).

But that's not to say that the season is entirely without its compensations. This is the time of year when the laburnum erupts in all its bright yellow glory, brightening up the streets and bringing a smile to our faces. This is when the king of fruits fills up our shops, so that we can gorge on it to our hearts content. No silly! I'm not talking about the mango. It's the lychee that scores. (Do try and keep up!) Not that I have anything against the mango, it’s nice enough diced up neatly for dessert. Though, I must confess, the only way I can truly enjoy one is to create a tidy little puncture hole on top and suck the juice out slowly but surely. And getting my teeth stuck onto the pulpy core is an added bonus.

This is the time when you can show off your pretty pedicure in strappy sandals, freeing your feet from their months-long bondage in winter boots. This is when you can bring out your cotton saris from hibernation and use their soft waves to shelter your from the blazing sun. This is when you can go back to swimming in the pool, letting the cool water soothe your heat-wrecked body.

Yes, an Indian summer can be hard on those who have to live through it, but it has its compensations. So how about, just for a change, we count our blessings rather than our tabulate our troubles?

Seasons of plenty

With most fruits and vegetables available through the year, are we losing out on the joys of seasonal eating?

I can never understand why people wax eloquent about mangoes at a time when litchis are flooding the market. Mangoes are all well and good: juicy flesh, voluptuous sweetness and whatever other nonsense that people spout about them.

But how can you possibly compare them to the loveliness of a litchi? The prickly skin that comes off in a tantalizingly thin layer to reveal the beautiful ivory flesh underneath. Flesh that is so full of juice that it’s an art in itself to leave it unscathed when you peel the fruit. The rush of sugar that goes straight to your brain as you take the first bite.

Litchis. There can’t be a better fruit in all of creation. Well, at least, I think so. And putting my mouth where my money is, while the litchi season lasts my dinner consists of a large – well, okay, very large – bowl of litchis which I consume slowly over the course of the evening to make the sweetness last just a little bit longer.

If there is one bad thing about litchis, it is that the season is so brief. And even before you have had anywhere near your fill of them, they disappear from the market without so much as a by your leave.

So while they last, I look for them wherever I go; but without much success. Hotels will send a fruit platter to your room with every exotic fruit from Thailand or even New Zealand. But litchis, that are available in such profusion locally? Perish the thought. Ask for litchis instead of mangoes as a dessert option in restaurants and waiters will look at you as if you are mad. Or worse, they will produce a plate of the tinned variety, which is to the real thing what Styrofoam is to blue cheese.

Partly of course, it is that the litchi is such a fiddly little fruit. It takes a lot of effort to cut up and serve. But partly it is that we have lost the art of eating seasonally – both in our homes and outside. Yes, I know, we all make much of the ‘mango season’. But such is our impatience that we try and pre-pone the season as much as possible by artificially ripening the fruit (no, it doesn’t taste anything like the real thing). And then, when by the laws of nature the mango season should be long over, we keep flooding the market with a late-ripening crop (yes, they taste pretty rubbish too).

It is the same with such seasonal vegetables as methi (fenugreek to all you Masterchef afficianados). It tastes best during the winter when it is in season; and that’s when you are supposed to have it: for breakfast, lunch and dinner if you are as much of a methi enthusiast as me. If you still pine for the flavor during the off season then you should pick the leaves, dry them and stock up in airtight containers for use during the rest of the year.

Well, at least that’s how it should work in a world that believes in seasonal eating. But alas, we no longer live in such a world. Methi now seems to be available pretty much the year around, if you are willing to pay more money for poor quality. As, indeed, are most other seasonal vegetables and fruits.

The times when our menus changed seasonally are over. Now, if you feel like it, you can pretty much serve the same menu throughout the year (and most hotels and restaurants do just that). The produce may cost a little (or a lot) more when it is sourced from other continents, indeed other hemispheres, but the same dishes can grace your plates come rain or shine. You can start your day with a methi thepla. You can have gobhi-mutter for lunch. You can feast on strawberries and peaches at tea-time. And you can have mangoes or litchis for dessert.

Yes, you can eat whatever you like whenever you like. But where is the pleasure in that?

You will never know the happiness of sniffing the aroma of the first aloo-methi of the season. You will never experience the joy of biting into the first tender mooli of the year. Or, indeed, of biting into the succulent flesh of the first mango of the summer, if that is your thing.

The truth is that everything tastes better when it is in season, when it arrives on your dinner table at a time that nature intended. And you appreciate it much more when you are eating it after a while.

An orange tastes most delicious when you are eating it after a gap of months. Apples are at their best when they are fresh off the tree. If it’s summer it must be watermelons, mangoes and, of course, litchis. If it’s winter, then nothing hits the spot quite like an orange.

It’s all about delayed gratification in the end. And the ineffable joy of seasonal eating. There is a reason why the Italians make such a fuss about porcini mushrooms and the English about green asparagus when they are in season. A pity we don’t treat the luscious litchi with the same respect.