Thali, Weddings & My Childhood ...

I grew up during the 80s and 90s in the bustling city of Mumbai.

A typical week comprised of long, uneventful series of lazy school days leading up to the weekends. The weekends were definitely the highlight. For one, it meant no school, late nights of movies on the VHS and sleeping in. But what I really looked forward to was the food! Dinner outings meant we got to eat chicken! Since we didn't cook meat at home (that is a seperate story, reserved for another day), these restaurant visits were what kept me going through the weekdays; week after week, year after year, throughout grade school. One can only imagine my dismay when there was a wedding invitation. And mind you, I had to go to many weddings as a young child.

Why the listless response to wedding invitations one might wonder? Now here is the thing: I belong to a Maharashtrian, Hindu, Brahmin family. Without getting into the details of the caste-systems in India, what that meant to me as a child, and perhaps even as an adult, is that we were a vegetarian family, or at least during all auspicious occasions. There were two rules: Eat Vegetarian food and consume No Alcohol.

The wedding ceremony typically commenced in the morning. We had to wake up early, dress up, get to the venue in time to witness the rituals only to head to a breakfast which was an unglamorous plate of either Pohe (flattened rice, cooked with oil seasoned by curry leaves, mustard seeds and fried peanuts for crunch, topped with fresh grated coconut and coriander) or Sabudana Khichadi (a mush of tapioca pearls, potatoes and crushed peanuts). These are considered delicacies and enjoyed by all, but I failed to see their charm. More rituals followed after breakfast. This gave us the opportunity to hang with our cousins and children of the extended family, who were equally bored, without parental supervision. We would find something forbidden to do and forget about the ongoing wedding in the background, until there was an announcement made to gather to around the stage.

The grand finale of the ceremony was an enthusiastic recital of mantras by the priests, holding a cloth between the bride and the groom, followed by the final countdown toward its lowering and eventual exchange of garlands. They were now declared married, equivalent to, "You may now kiss the bride." What this meant was the floor was now open for lunch!

In a separate area, rows of tables were laid out, with thalis (round stainless steel platters), all arranged and ready to go. It was a first come-first serve basis. This was called a Pangat, meaning a Row. If someone couldn't find a spot in the first Pangat, they had to wait for that round to finish, for the servers to pick-up the plates, clean the tables and re-arrange for the next round.

As the marriage was sealed, we children would dash to the dining room to secure our spots at the first Pangat. It was a race. For me personally, the race was the fun part, the meal that followed was not as exciting. There was no meat! Rest assured, we survived and it was all very enjoyable.

The meal consisted of chutneys, pickles, papads, pooris, vegetables, usals, rice, desserts, and fried snacks, all in served on the big thali. My favorite part was the fried papads, commonly known in the west as papadums, made either with lentils, tapioca or potatoes. Next on my list were the Pooris, fried flaky, puffy bread. While very simple and easy to make, one rarely ate fried foods at home, so they were a novelty item. Suddenly a cousin would announce the unofficial Poori eating competition and the race began! I can only imagine the annoyance for the servers, but we had not a care for the world...

Years passed, and the number of weddings I was dragged to reduced. The Pangat system was replaced by the western idea of buffet. Melamine or corning plates took over the big steel thalis. There were no more poori eating competitions. The food at the weddings changed from the traditional healthy and nutritious meal to a more crowd-pleasing array of foods that included paneer and chaats, though while delicious, these were not traditional foods of Maharashtrian weddings. The essence was lost.

As I grow older, I see the beauty of a simple, yet wholesome vegetarian meal. I have begun to enjoy a good usal: sprouted legumes, cooked with minimal spices, allowing the natural flavors to shine. I am now able to appreciate restraint over opulence. While it is far easier to cook a delicious meal with excess butter and cream, a meal cooked with mindfulness reflects skill and care.

And hence, I am excited to share a traditional thali from my home state, modified minimally to be Vegan for Maryland Vegan Week. I aspire to bring to you the flavors of a wedding feast from Maharashtra, with hopes of revisiting my childhood with you.