Actress-writer Mindy Kaling, left, with Senator and presidential candidate Kamala Harris (Photo: Frame from video)
I am not a food fundamentalist in that I regard food purely as a utilitarian requirement. One gets hungry, one stuffs something vegetarian in the mouth, one chews and swallows and one is okay. That is my overarching food philosophy. I do not get anal about food like purists and connoisseurs do.
Even with this as the backdrop, I watched a PR video of actor and writer Mindy Kaling cooking a dosa or two for Senator and presidential hopeful Kamala Harris with some trepidation. Kaling, although born in America, traces her roots to Tamil Nadu in India, one of the hubs of the dosas. Harris, although born in America, also partially traces her roots from her mother’s side to Tamil Nadu.
In this season of frenzied campaigning in the Democratic primaries candidates have to do whatever it takes, including invoke the ever-reliable dosas. I refuse to tell you what dosas are made of. Just look it up. The video, such as these staged affairs tend to be, is staged cleverly enough so that it may not appear staged but it does. Kaling is about to embark on making dosas when Harris drops by.
The two great each other with effusion.
Harris quickly notes with two ‘Oh my gods’ how all the Indian spices on Kaling’s kitchen island are in the recycled Taster’s Choice coffee bottles, precisely the way her mother used to store them too.
The two then exchange some banter about that. “It is so funny,” says Kaling. “What is that!” wonders Harris. “Did they tell each other?” Kaling responds. Harris, “I don’t know.” The banter ends with a placement for Taster’s Choice for some reason. Sponsors, satisfied. Ecological conscience, checked.
Now on to the dosas. Wait but before that Kaling has to confirm how she should address the senator. As Senator Kamala Harris. No, she says because it is not in her birth certificate. Kamala is just fine but Kaling presses on “Because the Indian in me feels like my dad will watch this.” Harris, “Just don’t call me auntie.” A round of laughter, checked.
“What we are going to cook today is an Indian recipe because you are India. And I don’t know that everybody knows that,” Kaling says even as the senator keeps saying yes emphatically just in case it is not fully understood. “But I find that wherever I go and I see Indian people at the supermarket or on the street, everyone is like “You know Kamala Harris is India, right?” We are so excited about that you are running for president. So, we are both Indian but we are actually both South Indian,” Kaling says as Harris interjects to say, “You look like the entire one half of my family.” Indian heritage, kind of checked.
Since some attention was paid to Harris’s Indian heritage, I feel called upon to point out that from her father’s side she is part Jamaican. Her father, Donald Harris is a respected professor of economics and is from Jamaica. In terms of nationality she is, of course, fully American like Kaling, both having been born here.
The video, with an eye firmly on its potential to go viral, does not appear to have gone viral going by the number of views as of this morning—a modest 154,140 as of writing this blog. I have no expertise to judge what such videos achieve, if anything, in terms of pushing the senator’s prospects in the primaries. It comes along with a deeply troublesome New York Times report how the Harris campaign “has unraveled’ and prospects of it ending being suggested. If that is indeed the case, I am fairly certain that partaking of a Mindy Kaling dosa is unlikely to help much.
Speaking of dosas, having lived in Bombay through the decade of the 1980, I had had the pleasure of eating some of the finest dosas anywhere. Mumbai is home to a remarkable variety of Udupi restaurants widely owned by the Shettys. Udupi restaurants famously serve some extraordinary dosas.
With my newspaper offices being in the Flora Fountain (now Hutatma Chowk—Martyrs Square) I was within walking distance of many Udupis, one being right below our office. It is possible that the true connoisseurs of dosas may scoff at me but I think in Mumbai one is really spoiled for choice. During my only visit to Bangalore and Bylakuppe via Mysore in the late 1990s I was left distinctly underwhelmed by the dosas that I was served. If that upsets you, please do not sue me. I have no money to pay you. I can offer two catheters instead.