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BLINDTEX T
18 TREASURE HUNT
The market of Vietnam’s ancient imperial city Hué
smells of ginger and sweet coconut rice. A feast for the
senses and a paradise for the food hunter.
As I listen to the sounds of the city waking up, the sun has just begun its slow
climb over the most romantic city in the Indian state of Rajasthan. Udaipur.
Situated on a lake with two islands dotted with palaces, Udaipur is embraced
by the mountains that surround it. And directly across from Udaipur, the Maharaja’s
storybook castle sits on its throne. But that’s not what interests me this morning. My
name is Bernd Girrbach, and I am on a treasure hunt with Mark Brownstein. We’ve
known each other for years and, in fact, I am the only one permitted to accompany
him on his adventures. Well – actually – me and my film crew. It’s Brownstein’s rather
unusual occupation that has us tagging along today. The 52-year-old American is in
pursuit of totally unknown, ancient or long-forgotten ingredients (mostly from Asia)
to bring back to the world’s most inspired chefs. Brownstein is the Indiana Jones of
Asian cuisine, and I am his scribe. I call him the food hunter.
Every flavor has its own perfect sound
His explorations bring us to a remote crossroads. Though it’s early in the morning, the
market is in full swing and – above all – loud! The food wallahs (wallah meaning man
or worker) cry out their wares. The wallah selling lassi (an almond yogurt drink) calls
out “tandaaai.” Oil hisses as the sweets-wallah fries
masaloa vadai in oil. The chutney-wallah raises his
roller shutter: “Acarwallah!” Brownstein is wide awake.
“Just listening makes me hungry,” he exclaims. “As soon
as my brain registers these sounds, it invites the matrix
of Indian aromas in. It’s fabulous! Everything is made
fresh here. You can even watch as it’s being prepared.”
He sounds like the soundtrack for the TV series
Foodhunter. For Brownstein, the five senses are kith and kin. It’s
common knowledge that sight and taste are closely related,
which is why restaurants are so attentive to the way food is
arranged. But what many don’t know is that the sense of touch,
in this case the “feel in the mouth,” is just as important.
“Consistency” and ”texture” are important entries in a chef’s
vocabulary. Brownstein believes that every flavor has its own
prefect sound. Salad is crisp; a roast, crusty; waffles, crunchy. The
hunter of flavor is convinced: “Many dishes imply a certain type
of sound.” Not hard to prove in Rajasthan. Between sacred cows
and cars, street vendors cart around their hot dumplings. “Taja
maal, taja maal” (really fresh) bark women carrying fruit baskets.
Meanwhile, the traffic cop is sitting with the chai-wallah, sipping
foamy spiced masala tea. Brownstein’s radar zooms in on pale-
green, fist-sized cannon balls being sold by an elderly woman.
That must be it! Elephant-fruit, which was once used to make a
delicious chutney. The fruit derives its name from its extremely
hard shell that supposedly only an elephant can open. In an
emergency, a hammer will do. Being impractical, however, the
fruit has fallen from favor. That and the fact that it releases a
malicious, albeit quickly dissipating, odor when opened. Deciding
on whether or not the fruit is ripe can be difficult because it’s not
possible to judge by sight or smell. The secret is in the listening.
Brownstein drops the fruit from about half a meter high. If it’s
not ripe, it will bounce back like a tennis ball: pow! If it is ripe, it
will land where it falls: plop.
An acoustical journey through the culinary world
Back at home, editing the film material, I breathe in the acousti-
cal atmosphere of Udaipur. And as I do, I am immediately filled
A flavorful sound: Mark Brownstein may not be able to record smell,
but – for the food hunter – every food has its own special sound.
ELEPHANT-FRUIT
The fruit grows on imposing
trees found in the dry plains of
India and Sri Lanka.
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