Mumbai to Bristol: Eating Your Way Through a Major Life Decision
On a wet morning in early December, we arrived in Bristol. In any other year it would have been a strange decision to quit your job and move to a city you have never set foot in, in the middle of a raging pandemic. In 2020 it felt like the most logical thing to do. We had a comfortable life in Mumbai, India. Well-paid jobs, a nice house in a chic neighbourhood, and lots of family and friends close by. Covid-19 forced us to pause and reflect on the lives we were leading. Comfort had led to predictability. We felt that if we didn’t take advantage of our health and sense of adventure now, it would soon be too late. So within a couple of months, we sold our furniture, said our goodbyes and found ourselves dragging our bags in the cold, wet streets of Cabot Circus, filled with an equal measure of excitement and nervousness.
However spur-of-the-moment, no decision could be made without considering how we were going to put food on the table. I don’t mean that in the financial sense. My wife had been able to relocate within her organisation, which was sufficient to pay the bills. I meant how were we going to eat, literally. Being avid home cooks, we couldn’t depend on takeouts and frozen food forever. After happily traversing from beer-guzzling, crisps-crunching bachelors to self-sufficient adults regularly hosting lavish meals for our friends and family, we had built an impressive collection of cookware in the few years since our marriage. We decided to take these trusted foot soldiers with us, but there was still the issue of hobs. In India we had always used gas stoves. The naked flame works perfectly for Indian cuisine essentials such as ballooning chapattis, charring aubergines or de-husking coconuts. However, our research suggested electric and induction hobs were far more common in Bristol. So for a few days we were tormented by trying to understand the differences between each type. How is electric different from induction? Should we have a preference? Does cookware meant for gas work on induction or is it the other way round? Should we carry everything or nothing? Eventually, apart from replacing a couple of our oldest saucepans, we decided to ship all of it and only worry about it once we had finalised on a house.
Next, what kitchen essentials were we going to carry with us since our shipment would only arrive weeks later? Space was tight. Jackets and sweaters took up a disproportionate amount in the limited number of bags we could carry. What do we risk?
Freezing to death or starving to death? We had booked an apartment with a kitchenette since we planned on cooking most of our meals while at our temporary accommodation. We settled on a pressure cooker - the mainstay of Indian cooking - as well as a tea strainer, tea leaves, a rolling pin, red chilli powder, cumin seeds and turmeric powder. A gifted set of whole spices consisting of cardamom, cloves, peppercorn and cinnamon sticks proved handy, so did a jar of freshly ground spices. We may have been able to procure most of these in any Asian store, but since we were going to be in quarantine for two weeks, we didn’t want to leave anything to chance.
The weeks before our departure weren’t just spent assembling spices and utensils. There was also a great deal of Instagram surfing. A digital recce, if you may, of restaurants in Bristol. Whenever we got tired of the relocation logistics, we would take a break and pore over the feed of food based accounts in Bristol. We had already become familiar with the menus of Jigaraki and Honest Burgers and were licking our lips in anticipation, from thousands of miles away. It was great to learn about the diverse communities that call Bristol home, and therefore the many food options that would be available to us.
Since our arrival we have been staying at a serviced apartment in Cabot Circus. Our windows look into the square around Quakers Friars and the restaurants that surround it. Not having much to do, I have spent hours gazing out of the window, waiting for the day I would be able to enter Klosterhaus and try out the Wurstsalats and Schnitzels, or dig into a pizza at L’Osteria. When Bristol briefly moved to the restaurant-friendly Tier 2, I jumped with joy, literally. We were at a line at the post office and when a stranger turned around and told everyone the happy news, I followed his lead and joined him in an impromptu jig. During most of our stay, the restaurants have had a deserted look. A day before they were set to re-open, it was a warm feeling watching the staff prepare for the influx of diners by laying out tables, unloading crates of fresh produce or just hanging about outside, rolling their cigarettes. I didn’t know these restaurants, or the staff who worked there. I had never dined in them or ordered takeaway even; but somehow I had built a connection with their fortunes.
As soon as our quarantine got over we ran out of our apartment to check out the city. My first stop was to pick up coffee from Full Court Press, situated at the tip of Castle Park. I tried a filter coffee, made from Colombian beans with notes of green apple and guava. It was delectable. Over subsequent weeks I have visited many other cafes around the city centre. While Two Day Roasters and Sweven are worthy of mention, none of them topped that first cup. The next weekend we walked to the grand Clifton Suspension Bridge. It was a bright and sunny day - the walk along the harbour then up to Clifton village was wonderful for two people who had been cooped up for the better part of a fortnight. We stopped for lunch at Spicer+Cole. It was our first time dining in a restaurant since March and the lovely brunch spread provided the perfect setting to celebrate the momentous occasion. The giant wedge of tart I ordered was filling, but I couldn’t resist the temptation of trying my first English mince pie as well. Everywhere around us people were thronging to restaurants and delis with lines snaking around the corner to be able to get in. While it was a heady punch of Christmas spirit, it also sparked a fear that lockdown was around the corner again. Those fears turned out to be well-founded, and we were glad we dined in when we had the brief window.
Christmas Eve was spent going for a walk around the harbour. Mulled cider was on offer at every pub and brewery, and we didn’t need much convincing. The warm lush tones of apple and cinnamon proved to be a better shield against the wintery evening than our multiple layers of clothing. Someone had converted a shop on Christmas Steps into their personal lemonade stand but instead of lemonade, rum punch and Jamaican patties were on offer. Yes, two please! The rum whispered the directions to M&S Foods, and soon enough we were filling our baskets with steak pie, Christmas pudding and chocolate rounds. All bets were off. It was Christmas after all.
Even though it may not appear so, we have cooked most of our meals at the apartment. Poha (flat rice) or stuffed parathas for breakfast, potato and fenugreek with lentils and chapatis for lunch and pumpkin or beans with yoghurt and rice for dinner. Thanks to our basic cooking skills and utensils we have been able to enjoy the best of both worlds - old and new, reliving old memories and building new ones. The pressure cooker is doing its job admirably and the spices have lasted for now. A few things we didn’t carry we were happy to find at Bristol Sweet Mart in Easton. The inspiring story of its founder, arriving in the UK as a refugee but later opening a portal for Asians, Trinidadians and Somalians to travel back to their homeland through food, is a moving one. My wife was overcome with nostalgia roaming the aisles of the shop, torn between joy at finding her favourite Indian snack or shock at how expensive the ladysfinger was. Typical British fare has found its place on our plates too. I have dreamt of scones ever since I first read about them in Enid Blyton’s books. Even though I wasn’t sure what they were, the bread fanatic in me was in love. When I did try them, they were everything that I had ever imagined. At the cost of my waistline, scones with butter and local jam has become my favourite breakfast choice. Sausage rolls, berries and yoghurt, roasted lamb, Cornish pasties and Yorkshire pudding wraps have all found a way into our stomachs and our hearts, and we have become better (and fatter) for it. We also tried Brussels sprouts, with its legion of fans and detractors alike, and are happy to add our names to the list of fans. We roasted them with carrots and pumpkin and it made for a wholesome meal alongside grilled piri-piri chicken and a yoghurt dip with mayo and mustard. We have feasted on locally grown courgettes, energised by kale and cucumber smoothies and happily munched on grilled lamb chops.
It has been a tough year for many. We find ourselves amongst the fortunate few who will be able to end it on a happier note than we began it, and food has played a big role. We have not had a chance to miss India. Thanks to our pressure cooker, spices and a notebook filled with our mothers’ recipes, we are reminded of home and loved ones in every bite. Thanks to the untiring efforts of Bristol’s restaurants’ kitchen staff and delivery drivers, we have experienced an exciting new culinary world despite the lockdown. A world filled with Kurdish wraps, Japanese curries and English pies. During this unsettling period, we have found cheer and comfort through the decadent delights found on the shelves of local supermarkets, zingy cider from New Zealand, juicy pears from Belgium, and sticky toffee pudding from the UK.
It won’t always be smooth sailing. Despite strenuous efforts we are yet to find a house and I am still on the lookout for a job. But as the sun set on 2020, and I looked out at the brightly lit reindeer installation at Quakers Friars, I couldn't help but feel excited at what the next few years have in store. The pandemic hasn’t allowed Bristol to open its doors to us completely, but I already feel welcome.
Omair Bin Nayyar
Omair has worked with media and brands for the better part of the last decade. He has recently moved to Bristol, where he can be found daydreaming about becoming a published writer, when he is supposed to be unpacking boxes. He can be reached at omair.b.nayyar@gmail.com.