No one asks 'What's cooking' unless it's Indian

(Edited from Sep. 8, 2024)

The other night Jay opened a jar of kimchi and I had to hold my breath, the smell was unpleasant. This reminded me of the 49th St. apartment he had in the city where I stayed from ‘13-’15 and how the residents would cook a lot on Sundays and the smells in the mid-century building permeated each floor, even though you could describe the building is nearly white glove (because the doormen did not run the elevator). I knew about the rule of offensive cooking smells but having grown up in great city-like areas and an attached townhouse it would not have occurred to anyone to my knowledge to complain about the cooking odors. Still if you live in apartment style you might experience this. And unfortunately it came up in a conversation recently among friends how there is a variable difference between how white people v. non-white people experience apartment-style living. This is an opinion and no offense, of course, but I have had people I know ask me, am I sure the ‘vibe (potentially offensive thing said to you)’ was not because of something else, something said or done. I will next post about a trip to Chicoteague I. a pretty beach with horses in 2022. And perhaps a weird conversation outside Maria Regina Church in Seaford during a bingo night with a Nassau County policeman. For now I’m talking about Jay’s cooking which generally real ‘eaters that actually experience eating culturally’ love. But not everybody and I wish I had a nickel for every time some uninitiated person suggests Indian food is all about curry. Geez. Eyes rolling.

Italian boys are handsome. Jewish boys are smart. It takes an Italian boy to win a lover’s heart. It was a jump rope song I remember from Queens. And profiling. Right? We didn’t think so. My neighborhood was mostly Italian, Jewish, Irish, and many Puerto Rican and Haitian families. They were friends too. Their boys were not mentioned in the song. I don’t know why. Maybe it was passed on from a previous generation. We all sang it.I was thinking about this the other night when someone in my apartment building asked me if Jay was slinging hash again. I was taken aback as they say. He’d cooked shami kebob the night before.

It was a friendly, jokey, innocent way of saying they noticed the aromas of Indian food. It’s been mentioned before in my CT apartments but trully never once in any NY small place I lived.

The same evening I was coming back and a woman in the lobby asked is someone cooking curry- my building has 20 families, 3 Indian and the rest other white cultures.

I wanted to ‘educate’ her about masalas and and say no one. I don’t know why but I felt defensive. I maintained my usual diplomacy - UN ingrained for sure - and said nothing.

I admit I’m sensitive. It’s a friendly question, right?

You all know Jay is Goan.

In my defense to being over sensitive - he says it - nobody asks what’s cooking when I saute fish. That smells terrible. And I cook marinara a lot. Onion and garlic sauteed does not smell lovely, right?

Is it rude? Subtle? Innocent? I don’t know. To me it feels awkward. Would love to know your comments.