I've always found the notion of cultural authenticity to be absurd -- and found it irritating that non-Western cultures are particularly scrutinized for adulteration, as if we are expected to remain a live but stagnant museum of exotic rituals and aesthetics. "California cuisine" can continue to evolve and experiment with salsas and chutneys; western conceptions of cinema, gender roles, and general lifestyles are undergoing constant change; but in many instances, a brown bro or hoe can't bring in the "modern" or "fusion" without brown traditionalists or cultured-white-people-on-Yelp considering this a tarnished venture. The reality is that some cultural shifts deliberately borrow from external influence, while others are genuine and organic in response to changing circumstances and infrastructures. It's difficult to delineate the origins or tipping points of new patterns, and it's also woeful, in theory anyway, to romanticize eras past.
An India-born-and-bred cousin around my age was in town at my parents' place a couple of months ago, and I went over there to kick it. In the midst of chatting with the backdrop of rain beating against the windows, I thought it would be nice to prepare a warm beverage to be cupped in and sipped slowly from each of our palms. I proposed this to my cousin, inquiring, "Would you rather have tea, or chai?" "What's the difference?" my cousin asked, genuinely confounded.
I suppose in a way this was a case of "Do you know what they call Indian people in India? People." Although I'm aware that "chai" literally translates to "tea," in my mind, chai is not just generically synonymous with, but a specific preparation of tea. Water and tea leaves (Lipton yellow label, if not a proper Desi brand) are brought to a boil in a pot, and milk is added for the now-chai to be boiled to completion. Cardamom and sugar are optional but always welcome, as I've learned from my sister's particularly fragrant chai, and other possible additions include whole peppers, cloves, cinnamon, ginger, and lemongrass. I've always cringed at what Starfucks and other American coffee/tea chains package as chai, as it is so exaggeratedly spiced and sweetened compared to anything I've had in a Desi home -- but still, to call it chai, I would at least need to see some milk up in that shit.
Several other relatives either from or with more recent ties to India than my immediate family were in and out of our home during that month, and the consensus seemed to be that chai is prepared sans cardamom, and the milk is not boiled with the water and tea leaves, but added later. Since then, my mom has been preparing "chai" in this manner.
I still cling to my definition and preparation of chai, though I acknowledge that the notion of chai as an authentic Indian beverage is sort of wack to begin with. Wikipedia research informs me that it's the British who really promoted tea consumption and introduced the milk and sugar. Native Indian vendors in turn took milk and sugar to a whole other level, and added spices to boot. Modern practices are sort of all over the map, and I imagine vary among age groups, class backgrounds, and from urban to rural.
My Indianness in many ways is stagnated to what I have learned from my parents, which is frozen in 1970s middle-class Bombay. Meanwhile, my parents are taking a more active interest in adjusting the way they perform their Indianness to comply with modern practices of our family back home.
An India-born-and-bred cousin around my age was in town at my parents' place a couple of months ago, and I went over there to kick it. In the midst of chatting with the backdrop of rain beating against the windows, I thought it would be nice to prepare a warm beverage to be cupped in and sipped slowly from each of our palms. I proposed this to my cousin, inquiring, "Would you rather have tea, or chai?" "What's the difference?" my cousin asked, genuinely confounded.
I suppose in a way this was a case of "Do you know what they call Indian people in India? People." Although I'm aware that "chai" literally translates to "tea," in my mind, chai is not just generically synonymous with, but a specific preparation of tea. Water and tea leaves (Lipton yellow label, if not a proper Desi brand) are brought to a boil in a pot, and milk is added for the now-chai to be boiled to completion. Cardamom and sugar are optional but always welcome, as I've learned from my sister's particularly fragrant chai, and other possible additions include whole peppers, cloves, cinnamon, ginger, and lemongrass. I've always cringed at what Starfucks and other American coffee/tea chains package as chai, as it is so exaggeratedly spiced and sweetened compared to anything I've had in a Desi home -- but still, to call it chai, I would at least need to see some milk up in that shit.
Several other relatives either from or with more recent ties to India than my immediate family were in and out of our home during that month, and the consensus seemed to be that chai is prepared sans cardamom, and the milk is not boiled with the water and tea leaves, but added later. Since then, my mom has been preparing "chai" in this manner.
I still cling to my definition and preparation of chai, though I acknowledge that the notion of chai as an authentic Indian beverage is sort of wack to begin with. Wikipedia research informs me that it's the British who really promoted tea consumption and introduced the milk and sugar. Native Indian vendors in turn took milk and sugar to a whole other level, and added spices to boot. Modern practices are sort of all over the map, and I imagine vary among age groups, class backgrounds, and from urban to rural.
My Indianness in many ways is stagnated to what I have learned from my parents, which is frozen in 1970s middle-class Bombay. Meanwhile, my parents are taking a more active interest in adjusting the way they perform their Indianness to comply with modern practices of our family back home.
0 comments:
Post a Comment