Zeeshan Suhail

The feeling I had, moreover, was of delight at being able to create something from my own two hands, using my own mind and common senses. Bachelors are not handicapped after all

Living the single life is often referred to as living the “high life”, one of freedom, nonchalance and dare I say it, decadence! As a bachelor, I can do many things and not worry about familial repercussions. Not being married gives we single guys the luxury of looking after only ourselves, yet it still makes cooking food a bit of an ordeal, especially for the average South Asian male. Raised to worship his mother’s cooking, a South Asian male is nearly handicapped if asked to prepare a meal. God help him if it be anything beyond an omelette!

Thus my readers will commiserate with me when this past weekend, I finally found the nerve to cook a meal entirely from scratch. It all started quite innocently when I began having a boy crush on the gratin dauphinois served in the World Bank cafeteria. How lame, right? I have fallen in shallow love with a dish made from one of the toughest vegetables on earth. Yet such was the taste, texture and aroma of this simple potato casserole that I had to at least look up what its constituents were. Alas, it was quite a simple concoction! I was, however, quite intimidated when I saw the website and the chef whose recipe it was: Food Channel and Bobby Flay (respectively).

Have no fear, I said to myself. This too, shall pass, I reminded myself. And as soon as I left the office on this past bitterly cold Friday, I made my way to the grocery store near my apartment, with two pages of two different recipes in hand (the other was Emeril Lagasse’s eggplant casserole). I knew that I needed potatoes. A supermarket surely must carry frozen potatoes, right? Wrong. They were all out. Instead I had to purchase fresh ones. Thankfully, these last quite long too. But the fresh potatoes necessitated the purchase of a knife or grater. I recalled having a knife at home, so I put a grater in the trolley just in case. I can always use it for fruit, right? I added some croutons, cream and some other goodies and made my way to the counter.

Once at home, though, it was a different story. I realised my knife and grater both would not be able to slice and dice the vegetables the way I would like for them to. Penny wise, pound foolish! I should have just bought the better quality, slightly pricier products. I stowed away the items I would not need and readied my counter for the mess I was about to make — without an apron! Oh well, a true chef will make do with suitable alternatives. I, instead, prayed for divine providence to shine down — brightly.

I put all the ingredients into their appropriate places and started mixing and heating and washing away, and a mere few minutes later I drizzled some grated parmesan cheese over my gratin and stuffed it into the oven. It was as if I simultaneously liberated myself and also resigned my fate to what was broiling away behind a heated door. It would be at least a half hour before I would catch a whiff of what I thought was a dish ready for consumption — and I was right. Nearly 30 minutes later, I opened the oven door just a bit to see what I thought was a sliver of heaven itself: cheese bubbling in a casserole dish with browned sides. Just what my eyes yearned for! Now if only the taste would compare to the appetising aroma and façade.

The recipe said to let the dish rest for 10 minutes while the vessel and casserole cooled slightly. I was beginning to bubble with excitement just the way the casserole was bubbling its top layer of cheese. What lay before me was no different than a baby laying before its mother who had just given birth to it. The feeling I had, moreover, was of delight at being able to create something from my own two hands, using my own mind and common senses. Bachelors are not handicapped after all! I was not only celebrating my victory at being able to cook a decent meal — from scratch, at home — but I was also breaking stereotypes.

We live in a day and age where South Asian men often times can cook better and more often than their spouses. This is nothing to be ashamed of. If Emeril Lagasse, Bobby Flay and countless others can do it, why can we not? In fact, it is these chefs — and one of my cousins (thanks Omer bhai) — who are largely credited with motivating me. We have no excuse. If we are married, then it is time we pitched in, but if we are single, it is time we learned how to cook. We have nothing to lose and a tremendous amount to gain. What shall I cook this weekend?

Zeeshan Suhail is a consultant with the World Bank in Washington DC and a board member of Americans for Informed Democracy (AID). He can be reached at zeeshan@aidemocracy.org