Cooking up a new career

Most people I know take up their alternative career route as a hobby. There are photography, dancing, and even Toastmaster classes.

I used to joke that if journalism didn't work out as a career, I would take up cooking.

As a kid struggling to take in physics and mathematics, I remember joking with my friends that if education didn't work out, I'd shine shoes. (As a side note, I dearly hope my mother is not reading this). I had barely made it out of high school and was already thinking of alternative careers that were surely more enjoyable than trying to figure out the rate of velocity or the mass of materials. Sitting in our dorm rooms, preparing for another rigorous day, it was obvious that while some of us were better at ironing our clothes, others at hair and light make-up, there were those, like me, who could make a cadet proud with some spit and cloth. Except for one of us, who opened a beauty salon with her mother, none of our "alternate" careers actually materialised.

Most people I know take up this alternative route as a hobby. There are photography, dancing, and even Toastmaster classes. Although shining shoes and ironing clothes probably don't make many lists.

Recently, with the demise of the demand for polished shoes, I have taken to dreaming of that parallel universe where I spend my time in a kitchen (not necessarily at home) creating variations of dishes that I have come to understand so well. I've spent what feels like a lifetime struggling with bad food and in pursuit of the better. The more I travel, the greater the understanding that all cuisines simply boil, fry and stew in a variety of combinations (with the North Americans having a particular affinity for baking).

There is a striking similarity between a number of world cuisines, including Mexican and Indian, a combination not linked by migration, tourism or colonisation. So what if I could stuff chicken vindaloo into a taco? Or season fries with chaat masala?

Unfortunately, a lot of it has already been done. The last time I was in New Delhi, at a haute cuisine restaurant called Indian Accent, the chef was already stuffing his shammi kebabs with foie gras and serving up bite-sized portions of quesadillas stuffed with stir-fried veggies cooked in Indian spices.

Fusion cuisine is not new. And it can be disastrously bad. To prove it, randomly watch any episode of amateur cooks on the BBC's MasterChef trying to blend say, Thai and British home cooking. But there are those who have stuck to it and persevered.

The past few weeks in the United States also brought home the point that the longer I think about it, the greater the chances that someone else is already busy acting on it. After all, you'd think Kimchi fries was a crazy idea. But wait till you try them.