Sitar & The Nan

As a child my experience with food had always been pretty limited. I ate nothing except for crispy chicken fingers, extremely salted french fries, and the occasional hot dog, but only if it was covered in ketchup. My taste buds were terrified of anything that was green whether it was a dark green or light, the thought of putting anything that color in my mouth petrified me. When my mother would force me to sit at the table and eat my broccoli before I left I would find different ways to hide it and just pray that I would find its way to the garbage can. I would carefully hold my hand under the table hoping that the dog would come over and take a bite but I was never successful. I found a kind of comfort in the battered fried chicken, it was something that I could always rely on to taste typically the same as the last time I had it, and this made me feel safe. Accompanied by the brittle crunch of the yellowish french fry next to it on my plate, I knew that I could not go wrong with this meal. All of my life I would be dependent on the three chicken fingers and heap of french fries that would be on my plate.

            Little to my surprise my dependency on this meal did not diminish as I grew older. Yes my horizons of appetite may have increased in some areas, like the fact that I could bare eating a small caesar salad now, but only if it was dowsed in dressing and had croutons spilling over the side of my plate. But other than that my mind was still as picky as it had always been and I did not see that changing anytime soon, until I got to college.

            My eating horizons were forced to expand quickly when I came to school. I learned very rapidly that I would be stuck eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and easy mac every day for the next four years of my life if I didn’t teach myself that I needed to start eating different things. I started out slowly by easing myself into eating grits and more foods that would count as being a part of the “southern” culture. I started realize that the gravy, everything fried and sweet tea wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Seeing that these foods did not make me keel over and die at the instant touch to my tongue my appeal to trying new foods grew greater every day. But I still would always rely on that special kind of comfort food which I knew would always taste the same.

            All of this brings me to the feeling I felt when I entered Sitar. I instantly felt that sense of nervousness and did not know what to do with myself. The bland off white walls covered with some random pieces of art work made me feel not at home. I felt like the atmosphere was almost cold and unwelcoming. As I started the walk over to the buffet line which seemed like it took forever I could feel my taste buds starting to water, but not in a good way. I knew that this would be the kind of experience where I had to suck up my pain in my altered and unnatural eating habits and just try some new foods. As I turned to hand my teacher a plate trying to act polite in hopes to cover up my nervous feeling that I feel like everyone could see, a pit in my stomach started to kick in. A huge part of me wanted to just turn around and sit back at the table and drink the ice cold water in which I knew would not disappoint me. But in order to get the full experience I knew that I had to go through with this and fill my plate with items I previously would have just shaken my head at and kept walking. I started at the beginning of the buffet table and read each label to know exactly what I was about to eat even though I had no idea what they would entail, until I came to one item. It reminded me of a mix between matzah and cooked pizza dough. It was a light brown and off white mix that had crispy parts almost as if they were slightly burned. It was plain with no bright orange sauces on top of it, and there were no seasonings on it that would make my mouth turn on fire. I took two of them because I had a feeling that the “nan” would be my so called “chicken finger”.

As I sat down at the table afraid to put the fried cheese balls in my mouth I took comfort in the taste of the Nan. Compared to the fried cheese balls the Nan tasted plain and bland, kind of like the walls inside of the restaurant. I moved the cut up pieces of cheese balls, white rice, and chicken curry around my plate occasionally after I would take a bite of the Nan. I found myself taking bigger bites of the Nan and wound up going to get seconds, not of anything else just the Nan. This was something that I found comfort in eating. The plain taste with a small hint of sweetness was something that I knew my taste buds would keep enjoying.

 I felt almost guilty not wanting to try all of the other items in the buffet like everyone else at the table, but as I had always been as a child I was too afraid. I had always been the type of person to not be too adventurous in trying new things such as food or wanting to meet new people. I had always thought that when I got to college though my feelings would change on these matters but as time went on I realized I would always be that girl who did not want to try new food. Going to Sitar and trying Indian food was like entering a whole new world for me. I felt uncomfortable and out of place, but being able to find something so simple and plain such as the Nan I felt okay. I found that anywhere in life I will be able to find something like a chicken finger, something that I feel comfortable eating and that makes me feel at home.