A Symphony on the Plate: My Favourite Types of Food

A Symphony on the Plate: My Favourite Types of Food

Food is not merely sustenance; it is a silent poem written with colours, textures, and flavours. To ask about my favourite types of food is to invite me into a realm where memory, culture, philosophy, and appetite entwine into a dance of delight.

I have often thought that food is akin to music: every dish is a note, every flavour a rhythm, and the whole meal a symphony that nourishes both body and soul. Just as one cannot imagine Beethoven without his symphonies or Tagore without his verses, so too life feels incomplete without the melodies of the table.

The Simplicity of Grains

There is a quiet poetry in a bowl of steaming rice or a slice of warm bread. They are not flamboyant, yet they are the foundation on which all cuisines rise. To me, they echo the philosophy of simplicity—like the stoic thinkers who believed happiness lies not in excess but in essentials. When I savour a spoonful of plain rice with a drizzle of ghee or butter melting on bread straight from the oven, I sense the same truth: contentment often lies in the humble, the unadorned.

The Fragrance of Spices

Indian food, with its symphony of spices, has always been close to my heart. A pinch of turmeric, the warmth of cinnamon, the sharpness of mustard seeds—these are not just flavours but philosophies. They remind me of the Upanishadic thought that the universe itself is woven of contrasts: heat and cold, bitter and sweet, joy and sorrow. To eat a well-prepared curry is to taste this grand unity, a reminder that opposites can harmonise beautifully.

The Tenderness of Fruits

Fruits, in their colourful attire, speak to me of innocence and purity. The first bite of a mango in summer is a burst of golden sunlight; the crunch of an apple whispers the freshness of autumn; a cluster of grapes feels like the laughter of spring. Philosophers often spoke of nature as the first teacher, and I find in fruits a lesson: they need no embellishment, for they are perfect as they are—like the unspoilt heart of a child.

The Warmth of Soups and Stews

On evenings when solitude sits heavily upon my shoulders, a bowl of hot soup feels like a companion. There is a warmth in its embrace that speaks more eloquently than words. It is a reminder of the Buddhist notion of compassion: gentle, nourishing, unassuming, and yet transformative. Soup, to me, is not just food—it is comfort in liquid form.

The Sweetness of Desserts

And then comes the poetry of desserts. A spoonful of kheer, a slice of cake, or a square of chocolate is like the epilogue of a long novel—sweet, fulfilling, and lingering. They remind me of life’s fleeting pleasures, moments we must treasure without guilt, for even the Bhagavad Gita teaches balance—not denial, but moderation.

The Philosophy of Eating

In the end, my favourite foods are not merely about taste but about meaning. They are metaphors of life itself. Grains teach me humility, spices remind me of harmony, fruits reflect innocence, soups embody compassion, and desserts whisper joy. To eat is not just to fill the stomach but to feed the spirit, to commune with creation, and to remind oneself that every morsel is a gift of time, toil, and nature’s bounty.

Food, in essence, is philosophy on a plate. It is memory, poetry, culture, and prayer—served warm.