On Feeling *Extra* Brown This Afternoon

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After finally deciphering and then completing the most challenging assignment I’ve had yet, I grabbed my badge and headed out. I wanted to take a little walk…I deserved to…I was done two hours before I expected to be and I felt a tiny sense of “Victory is mine!” because of it. Since I had skipped lunch, now was the perfect time to get some fresh air (and look for turning leaves). Once outside, I realized that today was the the day for our weekly Farmer’s Market. This made me mindful of how there were a finite number of Thursdays left before the weather would end the charming gathering of, oh, all of a dozen artisans and farmers, and that made me determined to appreciate everything even more. Excessive positivity (and the relief which blissfully arrives after meeting a deadline) inspired my lame ankle to try for whatever spring in my step I could muster. This was going to be nice.he gets my love jones for the cookie.jpg

I wasn’t looking for groceries, I was in search of a treat. I immediately recognized one when I saw a baker and his assistant arranging a decadent array of breads, scones, brownies, muffins and best of all…cookies. If I could list “home-made cookies” under my interests, I would. “C is for cookie, that’s good enough for me”, indeed. I spotted apple cinnamon, oatmeal raisin…then a few dozen peanut butter appeared…and then something which I couldn’t visually place, it was darker than the PB and didn’t have nuts dotting its smooth surface like so many allergy-inducing polka dots. Chocolate chip, my favorite hadn’t been unloaded yet. I smiled at the three women who were crowding the stand, impatient for the official start of the market. Oh yes, I’m not joking– you cannot sell anything until it is exactly 3pm and a bell has been rung. It’s a fair and thus lovely thing, apparently.

While the three, a duo and a single milled between me and those delectable baked petit morts, I observed the women as they observed the baker. Two were old enough to be my grandmother, and one of them had beautiful skin, bright reddish-orange lipstick and very pretty hair. She was so arresting, I couldn’t even look at the other two. I was fascinated, thinking silly AnnaThoughts like “I wonder what moisturizer she uses” and “I bet she wears lots of hats”. I was so transfixed, I almost missed what was occurring directly in front of us. Almost. Thanks to being perpetually high-strung, even things in my peripheral vision cause me to swivel and investigate, so that’s what commenced my micro-Monk-like-adventure: the gesture I saw, which I wish I hadn’t, while I was looking elsewhere.I spied, with my round Southie eyes, the baker’s assistant, dropping one and then another cookie on the ground. He lunged for both, but alas, alack, they were goners. Leaning over, he picked them up with his latex-gloved hands and then walked a few steps back to the van which he had been unloading. After hesitating, he put the two dirty cookies somewhere we couldn’t see and came back out. I resisted the urge to mutter, “I hope those didn’t go right back in the case” mostly because I was too appalled by what the assistant did next—he walked right back to the racks near us and picked up the most beautiful, luscious chocolate chip cookies I’ve ever desired. He started arranging them in the last, forlorn, empty basket. I was astounded.

No one else seemed to mind.

Let me see if I underwear this—this man, who was wearing gloves, apparently for sanitary reasons, dropped food, picked it up and then, without changing gloves, grabbed several “fresh” and so “clean” cookies like it was no big thang?

This would be an opportune time to point out that this farmer’s market occurs on 8th street NW, in Penn Quarter. That’s right, it’s a city street. Just a scant hour before, cars had been rushing over this very spot, dripping oil while perhaps crushing the dead bird I saw a few feet away. This wasn’t indoors. This. was. a. filthy (albeit pretty!) street.

I started to feel a bit anxious. I turned to the woman on my right and asked, sotto voce, “Did he just pick up stuff from the ground and then NOT change his gloves before touching the rest of the cookies?” She looked a bit stunned, then shook it off. “You’re right. That is exactly what he did.” And with a grimace, she turned and walked away, towards the mellow mushroom farmer.

The majority of chocolate chips were still safe. I was trying to stay positive—maybe he was rushed, absent-minded, unintentionally icky…it would occur to him…now…or…erm…now? How about now? Oh, for the love of sugar, please change your nasty #?@%!%& gloves! He walked away and I thought, “Yes! See what happens when you hope for the best?”

The duo who remained between me and the stall started speaking.

“What did I tell you?”

“No, you were so right, these are gorgeous…I can’t wait ‘til 3!”

“I’m not sure what to choose!”

“What about you, dear?”

That last question was meant for me. Now both were looking my way, expectantly. It was kind of them to include me in their conversation. I love how people in cities just do that, they just insert themselves in to your life and then a few seconds later, float out, so naturally. I also love how contrary to popular belief, New Yorkers are NOT MEAN, nooo, people in DC are way ruder, in my experience. But that’s neither here nor fair.

“Well…I know this might sound obnoxious, but…I don’t know if I can buy something after seeing him pick up cookies off the street and then NOT change his gloves.”

“Oh, I hadn’t even thought of that! My dear, you are very observant.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to seem…I don’t know…unreasonable?”

“Not at ALL. You raise a very valid concern. That’s unsanitary handling of food.”

And with that, they both turned back to the baker.

The cookies were glistening in the late afternoon sunlight. How much butter did those babies get battered with? Oh, why, WHY does this guy have to be so naree*? My cookie-lust got the better of me, empowering me to be bold. I’m a consumer! They want me to buy things, so they would want me to be satisfied, right? That’s the whole point of supporting indie everything, you get such kind, personal service, that you feel extra good when you walk out with your purchase. As long as I’m polite, a question is perfectly acceptable. If that’s all it takes to get a glove change…and thus a clean cookie…

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Yes?” He was ready for my question. He had the slightest accent and he looked and sounded a bit like the “pool boy” in Legally Blonde. You know, the one who was all…”Don’t you go tapping your last season Prada shoes at me missy” or similar. No? Didn’t watch it? Fine, let’s move on.

“Did two cookies drop on the ground?”

“Yes, but I threw them away. There’s trash in the truck.” He looked at me like, “come on, you should know better…of course I threw them out!”

“Oh, but…didn’t you…pick them up while wearing…those gloves?” I gestured towards his hands, each of which were holding 4-5 now-tainted cookies.

The smile immediately disappeared from his face. In fact, he was scowling. The epiphany had smacked him, all oops upside his head, like.

“Look, I touch the cookies, not the road!”

I nodded. “Thank you so much.”

I don’t know how he had magically avoided asphalt and thus preserved the integrity of his food-handling equipment, but I felt that it was appropriate to leave, since a line was forming for all the baked goodness.

Glum, I wandered past organic cheese samples, dried apple rings and a mini-orchid shop, over to the woman who always brings such gorgeous flowers to market. I had a question for her, about a certain…green, plant-y thing which I didn’t know the official name for. Since they were in the last few bouquets I had been given, everyone expected me to know what they were called. I’m asking for it; they are eye-catching. On Fridays, when I take the vase home (they last for over a week!) on the metro and while walking, I constantly hear “What ARE those?”

I was about to pose my question, since she had finished with an actual customer, when the two cookie ladies “cut in line”.

“Do you have dahlias?”, one asked.

The other older woman, the one who hadn’t spoken to me was eyeing me as she slowly, sensuously bit in to a chocolate chip circle of bliss. I know, she wasn’t doing it just to make me feel bad, but that was obviously the end effect.

This was really starting to bug me. I started wishing I was more “chill” about such things, her cookie looked THAT fantastic. I’m famous for washing my hands before I touch food, after I touch my laptop, upon re-entering the house, after I take off my shoes in the hallway…any time that they might be dirty. I have no more control over such rituals than I do over my obsession for 120 Minutes-era music. No cookie for me.

Here, have some context, it’s free today: I don’t think this is anything but familial myth-making, but allegedly, my first word was “chee-dirty!”. Does that count as a word? Whatevs, I grew up with typical, anal-retentive, paranoid brown parents. Which is not to say that I think Desis are somehow cleaner than everyone else, rather that they are more consumed with the concept than some.

After college, my two prospective Asian roommates (Chinese and half-Japanese, respectively) became probable and not possible roomies when I kicked off my shoes without being told, before touring the white carpeted apartment (what genius installs white rugs in a college apartment complex? Something about the G-line makes people wacky, I tell you.) Apparently, every other interested party had just stumbled on in; half had observed all the shoes by the door and asked about it…only to then strut right past, shoes still on.

See? And some of you think we have practically nothing in common with “real” Asians. 😉

[Aside: as if that last sentence wasn’t incendiary enough, I’ve got more flame bait for ya. I recall a very controversial early-early-morning breakfast, i.e. in the wee hours, after a night of partying, which was heated because the question stupidly being considered by several people in various stages of intoxication was, “Were South Indians cleaner than North Indians?”. We were all referencing our parents in our arguments for and against, as if we were still infants who hadn’t realized that we weren’t physically attached to them. Later, a Guju gf confided to me that she felt she had more in common with Southies, and not just because a Tamil family friend had taught her Mother how to make fantastic sambar…”No, it’s the cleanliness thing. I feel like with North Indians, the shoe thing is optional. My house? Not optional. Yours too, right??” Right. “But…aren’t you technically North Indian??”, I asked. She arched her back, squared her shoulders and sniffed at me. “I most certainly am not. I am Gujarati.”]

Back to the story within a story. So, after hearing about my possible first word(s), you won’t be surprised to hear about the time when I was five and my sister, in her stroller, had dropped her bottle on the sidewalk, in San Francisco. “Chee!” my mother hissed, grabbing it and swinging it above my baby sister’s dimpled, grasping hands. We were near the park, so it wasn’t so odd that we almost immediately encountered another stroller. That baby’s pacifier fell out, and bounced on the ground, twice. That mother stopped, shrugged, picked it up, wiped it on the back of her pants and popped it right back in her baby’s waiting mouth. I still remember the disgusted look on my mom’s face. “Why are Americans so dirty?” she muttered in Malayalam.

“Aren’t we Americans?”

“Where is your brain and smart mouth when Americans ask you that? You just stare at them, like you are a dumb. Of course we are. But we are clean ones.”

Beyond the fact that “Americans” seemed to be code for white people, I was perplexed by this new designation of “clean” vs. “dirty” Americans.

When I was growing up, there was no five-second rule; if it dropped, it got tossed, and yes, a “Chee! Dirty!” was usually uttered by someone in the vicinity, to commemorate the fallen.

Twenty-seven years after a scolding on a San Francisco sidewalk, my phone rang, on a street 3,000 miles from fog, hills and proper sourdough bread. I answered. It was my best friend.

“You have good timing!”

“Not really. You’re just uber-predictable. I knew you’d be free for a bit.”

“Hey…can I ask you if I overreacted to something?”

“hold on…let me clear my throat…I’ve got Dionne Warwick on the brain…”

I told her everything (obviously with less punctuation or consideration for detail) and by the time I got to the part where the assistant had returned from tossing the dirty cookies, only to pick up the innocent choc-

“GASP! NO!! That is NASTY. And on a freaking city street! Eww, eww, eww, eww, ewww.”

“Oh…wow. Thanks. I thought that maybe I was the weird one, since the other people weren’t bothered, but you caught it before I could even-”

“NO! Who does that? I mean, it’s one thing when you’re in a restaurant, I’ll grant you that you have no knowledge of what’s going on in the kitchen, etcetera…but to see it first-hand…I wouldn’t have been able to eat it, either. You’re not veird.”

I sighed with relief as I contemplated the odd mish-mash of feelings within. There are moments when I just feel more desi than I usually do, or when I’m reminded that I was raised differently. I’m not talking about being othered by others, I mean little eurekas of my own, about something just like this. Often, when I question myself about a reaction to something, the answer will float to my surface like one of Razib’s old comedic comments…

…Brown.”

“Gawd, why do you tell me this stuff? It’s like the time that guy at Au Bon Pain dropped all those bagels on the ground, made eye contact with you and STILL put them out to be sold. I couldn’t eat bagels for like, a year. Who are these narees?”

“I think they’re a tiny, indie…not exactly a storefront-in-dc type of establishment.”

“Good.”

“Yes. Your Marvelous Market addiction can continue, in peace.”

“Isn’t it amazing?”, she asked.

“What?”

“The ridiculously different standards we have about cleanliness, compared to others.”

Ah, there. I was not alone. Perhaps we never are, despite how we feel.

“Amazing and inconvenient”, I said. “My attempt at cookie-ing uncovered an…inconvenient truth.”

“That your parents raised you right?”

“Yeeeeah, let’s go with that one.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Naree…is such a brilliant Malayalam word. It encompasses so much in its two potent syllables; it’s the epitome of “Chee! Dirty!”-osity. It’s one of the examples I think of when our seemingly-stodgy-about-certain-things Amitabh rails about the loss of languages and how that’s a tragedy. He is right to rail, because it is tragic, because words are magical, potent, precious. There are some things I just can’t say precisely, in English, and I’m not even THAT fluent in Malayalam; there are words (beyond kundi, silly) which are perfect for what I am thinking, even if they are in the “wrong” language, and those are the only words which my mind can or will summon, in that moment.

As for what “naree” means…well, I was never one of those who liked having a glossary in the back of a mehndi book; I visibly grimace when I see such things, unless it’s ironic, in which case the most annoying song ever gets stuck in my head.

I always thought that if you were a skilled enough writer, a strange word could be understood via context. I am no “skilled” anything, but this is one of the guidelines I attempt to consider when I am writing, “does this sentence and this sentence reveal what ‘kundi’ means, to a non-Mal speaker, in this paragraph?”

131 thoughts on “On Feeling *Extra* Brown This Afternoon”

  1. it’s weird…i used to be uber spotless when i had 4 other roomies. now that i’m living solo, i’ve loosened up a ton. i’m not a slob, but i don’t dust as often as i should, junk mail gets scattered, and my mirrors aren’t windexed but once a month!

    That’s funny; my experience is exactly the opposite 🙂 When I had roomies my room was SPOTLESS but the common spaces less so. Not because I didn’t think it was disgusting, but because it is overwhelming to have to clean up after 6 people.

    I don’t know if cleanliness is a particularly “desi” thing. Even within my own family, there are folks who, in my opinion, have appallingly low standards of cleanliness and others who have OCD-like obsessions with it. I also don’t think it’s a north vs. south issue, either. I think it varies by family/person, and that we assume that because everyone in our social circle does it, everyone who is not in our social circle does not. I do remember being surprised, though, when I first started visiting people who didn’t take off their shoes going into their homes, let their animals run amok outside and inside the house, etc.

    Almost (or perhaps equally) gross as dropping stuff on the street is the appallingly low number of people who wash their hands after using the restroom. I’m one of those people who always has a crazy paper-towel based routine for opening up the restroom door for exactly that reason.

  2. As far as house cleanliness, I have seen no trend whatsoever that Indian homes are cleaner than White Homes. The only difference being that Indians tend to remove their footwear a lot more often. IN fact, the curry smell in some Indian homes makes me want to wash my clothes after some visits. I remember avoiding wearing my better coats before I used to visit some family friends house for dinners.

    I am a sloppy guy. I am clean with food(no food on the floor). But I am very messy with paper. My white roommates were always less messier than I was(well, with one exception, one was a total slob with food).

  3. I have been to Indian controlled Dunkin Donuts (isnt that a lil redundant. OK, hush, PC police). And I think Anna might reconsider feeling “extra brown” when she observes the way some of these employees handle the donuts. That chocolate chip cookie will look a whole lot more appetizing after she witnesses the lack of meticulous use of gloves or someone sneezing near the donuts. Once again, major generalization here. Actually employees sneezing but not taking enough care to sneeze in another direction and then not taking the care to wash their hands after that is a pet peeve of mine regardless of who runs the establishment.

  4. PS @ #47 said:

    When many people are talking about cleanliness in Indian homes, I would think they are just referring to their average middle-class household, which probably most SM-ers come from – anyone who lives in dire poverty, whether its the US, India, or wherever will have a different perspective on cleanliness.

    Are you saying that poor people are dirty or middle-class people are wasteful?

    gen_xer made a great point in #31. Personally, I’m more disgustified by those nasty latex gloves than bare hands. Latex gloves conjure images of hospitals and proctologists in my mind, images which evoke disease, not sterility…and even the word “sterile” does not carry a purely positive connotation in my twisted mind. I think the only place I wouldn’t put my mouth is on some money–now that’s some nasty shiznit!

  5. The Indian obsession with washing and taking off shoes has less to do with hygiene (as a way to counter disease) than it has to do with Brahminical notions of cleanliness (as a way to counter impurity). It sound very much the same way in your case. A much better analogy than the one you made between taking off shoes and throwing away food is the one between taking off shoes and not sharing food (ecchal in Kannada.

    Ummm I am going to have to go ahead and disagree with you there Peter.

    Keeping impurity out is a way of controlling disease. Granted, it is not the best way to do it, but it is a start. Now you have to remember that back in the day, there were no disinfectants. I will give you an example. People use cow dung to clean the floors after you have eaten on it. Besides the fact that it is used to keep the floor intact (think mud floors), it is also a disinfectant

    We can keep going round and round, there is always a germ killing / avoiding factor, given the limited scientific knowledge they had back in the day. Sharing food, same thing. You do not want another persons saliva in your food.

    Food, quite simply, is not wasted until it is clearly and completely compromised.

    I partly agree with this statement. I was always taught that food is god and you just do not waste it. Then again, no one cleaned mold out of the Jam, we made sure that we avoided the mold to begin with.

    And latex gloves are in. The last time I went to a wedding (in India), the people serving food were dressed, hair covered, wearing gloves.

    anyone who lives in dire poverty, whether its the US, India, or wherever will have a different perspective on cleanliness.

    Personally, I have to agree with PS, because the quote sums up my thoughts.

  6. IMO it’s all overrated..once in a while it is good to eat dirty food (unintentionally and intentionally) and get sick and then get better..keeps your immune system healthy. This story reveals perfect example of typical ABD syndrome.

  7. I am not a stickler for gloves either unless the handler has less than good hands. Cut the nails, trim the hangnails, wash it often and I wont freak if he or she handles the food. I actually prefer those little waxy sheets they use to handle the donuts and cookies to use of gloves.

  8. This story reveals perfect example of typical ABD syndrome.

    Watch it, please.

    Even if you weren’t ignoring the fact that plenty of ABDs are disagreeing with her, your statement was uncalled for.

  9. I think it’s all relative. (White) Americans probably think that brown folks who eat with their hands are dirty, that brown men who grow an extra long pinky fingernail are strange, that going around barefoot in a non-carpeted house is dirty, that bathing in a room that gets flooded every time a bucket and pail are emptied is unsanitary, that combing Vatika oil into your tresses is dirty, etc.

    We’re all clean and all dirty in different ways. Anna – I can 100% relate to my initial judgements being SO DESI when I observe people around me…

  11. brown men who grow an extra long pinky fingernail are strange

    is there a religious/cultural/functional reason for that? it’s somewhat unusual.

  12. that brown men who grow an extra long pinky fingernail are strange

    curious about this one too!

    that going around barefoot in a non-carpeted house is dirty

    I have adopted this tradition,thank you! It keeps the house cleaner and it helps me to think of my home as a sacred space.

  13. I am a DBD and both my parents are very concerned about cleanliness. Although they don’t have enough time to keep everything clean (both are working). When I was little, just to keep me and my sister occupied, they would scatter a bunch of peanuts on the floor and I would pick and eat each one of them. The floor was clean enough for that. And for putting salt when we ate lunch/dinner. Anyway, what surprises me is how dirty I am when I stay away from them in a hostel. There is some sort of transformation that occurs and I never end up keeping the hostel room clean. This is not to say that it stinks, just a lot of dust on the PC and any other infrequently used items.

    A N N A: I am glad you at least have inherited the cleanliness from your parents. I wish I had.

    P.S.: Is SM Intern a blogger or just the poojari?

  14. I am a DBD and a veggie at that. Once in US, I made myself get used to the idea that the veggie-non veggie kitchens are not separate as in some of the restaurants back home. But it still freaks me out when I see my subway sandwich being made by the same gloved hands that made a chicken/beef sandwich a second ago. Is it considered rude to ask them to change their gloves?

  15. Is it considered rude to ask them to change their gloves?

    I Would say no. the customer is always right. you are paying them money. you deserve good service. money is hard to earn. why give it away for bad service?

  16. Interesting point about Asians being natural roomies. I roomed with an Indonesian Chinese girl, two Koreans and a (token) white girl. I miss those days because I had to have it pointed out to me how ‘multicultural’ our apartment was; hadn’t even thought about it.

  17. Dirty secrets on sex and hygiene

    So women were induced by these ads to think that when they went out to enjoy sex with whomever they wanted to … they had to be absolutely odour-free and they would enjoy it so much more if they didn’t ever have to worry that they smelled like a woman.

  18. Kind things first: towannagetsapankha, thank you, that was a very sweet comment. 🙂

    ::

    Camille:

    Almost (or perhaps equally) gross as dropping stuff on the street is the appallingly low number of people who wash their hands after using the restroom. I’m one of those people who always has a crazy paper-towel based routine for opening up the restroom door for exactly that reason.

    It’s not crazy, I do it, too, right after I use my elbow for the paper towel dispenser. And I’m more bothered by lack-of-post-poo-handwashing than dropping stuff on the street, easily.

    Pravin:

    And I think Anna might reconsider feeling “extra brown” when she observes the way some of these employees handle the donuts. That chocolate chip cookie will look a whole lot more appetizing after she witnesses the lack of meticulous use of gloves or someone sneezing near the donuts.

    I guess I should be thankful that (AFAIK) we don’t have Dunkin’ in DC. 🙂

    I don’t have a finite amount of disgust. I’m also horrified when people sneeze near food, it’s why I try and avoid salad bars and the like. And before someone else brings it up, I would NEVER cut someone desi slack for improper food handling. It’s like that ancient (’92) Cross Colors slogan…”Naree see no color”.

    Nizam:

    Quite apart from the obvious fact that most Indians couldn’t afford a treat like a street-stained chocolate chip cookie if they wanted to, the culture of preserving food has a far stronger sway here than the culture of hygiene, if you can call it that. Trashing cookies that fell on the ground would be disgraceful, as it still seems to me; in most parts of India – and what else is India? – it would be a fantasy of waste and indulgence.

    Just to clarify, I was not writing about Indians in India or “who can afford what”, so please don’t manipulate my “musings” to make it seem like I’m a privileged, trifling, first world-twat– now I might be exactly that, but it sure as hell ain’t because of this.

    Proper food handling is a right, not a privilege. There are LAWS about this, I don’t pull this stuff out of my ass. I don’t claim to speak for people in India. I was born and raised here. The last time I went to India, it was 1989. I write from the perspective of a second-generation (South) Asian American…which is what the majority of bloggers, readers and lurkers here are. Trolls, I don’t know about, so, like life in India, I won’t speak to that. 😉

    Actually, Anna, I find your sentiment pretty bizarre. I understand that America’s disinfectant culture is striking deep roots – obviously – but to me, even the contention that the first two cookies needed to be thrown away is wasteful. Car tyres are hardly the nastiest infection-vectors you can imagine.

    I find your handle-switching bizarre, so we’re even!

    This wasn’t about whether the cookies should be tossed; this was about touching the filthy street with food-handling gloves, which may or may not have been latex and THEN cross contaminating other food by touching it with the same gloves. That’s stupid, reckless, lazy and disgusting. Look, the whole reason I went at the start of the Market was because after the first 15 minutes of open-air vending, flies are on everything and I won’t eat those cookies, either.

    You’ll find homemakers selectively cleaning moulds out of jars of jam so that what remains can be eaten. I daresay that is going to make Anna go “eww, eww, eww, ewww!” but its a habit that is informed, not necessarily by the personal experience of deprivation, but by the apprehension of its existence. Food, quite simply, is not wasted until it is clearly and completely compromised.

    If one is truly concerned about deprivation, if one is aware of its existence, one would not allow food to mold in the first place. If we value food, we’d store AND handle it properly. We don’t allow it to be compromised.

    And finally Nizam, for the record, it was my friend who went “eww, eww, eww”. 🙂

    Tara Bohra:

    I can’t believe somebody would expend close to 3000 words on a thunderous build-up to something so trivial. I think the next time you go out shopping, you oughta get yourself some REAL problems so you have some perspective on what’s worth writing a jeremiad about.

    And I can’t believe you felt the need to possibly switch handles to say that. 🙂

    I do have real problems, but that doesn’t mean I will or have to blog about them. Your prescription for perspective is insensitive and unnecessary. 🙁

    koppakabana:

    that brown men who grow an extra long pinky fingernail are strange

    I would think it’s strange, too. 🙂 I’ve never encountered this. That’s the best part of threads like this– I learn about other parts of India, stuff I haven’t been exposed to. Anyone know about the long pinky nail thing? I’m curious.

  19. But it still freaks me out when I see my subway sandwich being made by the same gloved hands that made a chicken/beef sandwich a second ago. Is it considered rude to ask them to change their gloves?

    I do not see why it is rude. You are allowed to customize your order, with no meat and that goes for the gloves too.

    The places I go to regularly, they know it’s coming. I do not have to ask anymore, the guy goes, “I did not touch meat” or changes his gloves as soon as he sees me. It’s kinda funny.

  20. Camille: Almost (or perhaps equally) gross as dropping stuff on the street is the appallingly low number of people who wash their hands after using the restroom. I’m one of those people who always has a crazy paper-towel based routine for opening up the restroom door for exactly that reason.
    It’s not crazy, I do it, too, right after I use my elbow for the paper towel dispenser. And I’m more bothered by lack-of-post-poo-handwashing than dropping stuff on the street, easily.

    heh heh. That reminds me of when I used to karate kick the flush bar of those urinals instead of using my hands to flush. Thank god for automatic flushers. Also notice how guys will progressively stand further behind a urinal as the day goes by to avoid stepping in someone else’s pee.

    And regarding the link in Khoofia’s comment(#67), it is funny when some of the older DBDs will go “chee chee” when they see a lot of tongue kissing on tv. I am also odorphobic when doing you know what with you know who.

  22. But it still freaks me out when I see my subway sandwich being made by the same gloved hands that made a chicken/beef sandwich a second ago.

    Oy, all this sandwich talk is making me hungry. I hope it’s stopped raining. Suddenly, I have an inkling of what happens to all of you when I put up dosa pr0n, and you live in a city which doesn’t have a Southie restaurant. 🙂

  23. dosa pr0n

    this phrase reminds me of the movie ‘idiocracy’ when “frito” is watching the “m@strubation network”, and the show hes watching is “feet and food”.

  24. when i was a kid most of the DBD parents used to spend A LOT of time talking about how “americans” are “filthy”…never knew what to make of it. didnt think of it for years, till now.

  25. Anyone know about the long pinky nail thing? I’m curious.

    And they are uncleaned + colored. And once I actually saw that, I stopped buying from that vendor, which previously used to be my favorite for this.

  26. I have mixed feelings about sanitation, hygiene and general cleanliness. I generally trust people who are in the food business, as opposed to the retail business. Hence, I wouldnt blink twice if the baker picked up a couple of loafs and placed it on the counter for me – but would not be comfortable if the cashier did the same. Also brings back memories of a time I worked in a kitchen. I sliced my hand open and remember someone recommending I put on a glove before getting back in the line. I put it on of course – but couldnt help thinking about it. You see, we were serving beef or pork in various shades of pink – surely human blood would be more salubrious than a cow or pig who’s been eating feces or bugs and generally lounging around shit and shaking with vermin. And seriously, has anyone been on a fishing boat and seen the kidn of crap that gets pulled in.

  27. when i was a kid most of the DBD parents used to spend A LOT of time talking about how “americans” are “filthy”…never knew what to make of it. didnt think of it for years, till now.

    I wrote an essay about how my desi-born family finds it disgusting that Americans eat breakfast before they brush their teeth in the morning.

    “Chee chee chee chee, they swallow all those germs that have been festering in their mouths all night!”

  28. Anna’s take on Desi’s being uber-clean was news to me.

    I don’t know if it’s because I’m in public health, but I have very little fear of germs because (1) I know the importance of being exposed to them, (2) Seriously, there’s more germs on your keyboard (no matter how hard you clean) than on a toilet seat.

  29. (1) I know the importance of being exposed to them,(2) Seriously, there’s more germs on your keyboard (no matter how hard you clean) than on a toilet seat.

    But I clean my keyboard daily with a Clorox wipe. 🙁

    As for your first point, I guess your second means I’ll be okay. 😉

  30. Interesting discussion. I’ve found great variation among desi folks (both ABD and DBD) when it comes to cleanliness. Although, I have to say that the hyperclean regardless of where they are from are sometimes difficult to handle …I had some acquaintances over for dinner and consider myself to be a fairly clean person – this woman started freaking out over little things and has taught her small baby to wince and be ultra sensitive about cleanliness – which was annoying for me as a host – I think it interferes with social interaction where others are put on the defensive because some folks have very high expectations of cleanliness. Other than that – its each to their own.

    Also, related — don’t know if any of you have been following the rather dramatic news stories about killer staph infections in this country – the reports all came out this week about how Staph infections now kill more people more AIDS per year here in the US. The interesting thing in all these articles was that all the doctors and public health folks were really against anti-bacterials and ultra-sanitizing – the argument of course is that when you use anti-bacterial soaps too often you kill the good bacteria along with the bad and that only makes bacteria more vicious and resistant – and also makes our immune systems weaker because we are not letting the body battle it out….of course, most of us knew that but its good to remind ourselves that a little mess is a good thing people! Of course, speaking from personal experience (a sample of one, mind you) – I do find that my immune system is a lot less robust now than say 15 years ago when I lived in India……After seeing all that discussion about not sanitizing too much – I heaved a huge sigh of relief that I dont need to obsess — its so easy to get anal about this.

    Also, Anna – I have mallu family via marriage (I am not mallu – but am a southie) – have to say most mallus I’ve met are huge neat/clean freaks….which in general I am OK with as long as I am not forced to do what I dont want to do… again each to their own as long as they are not making others miserable.

  31. Anna said:

    But I clean my keyboard daily with a Clorox wipe. 🙁 As for your first point, I guess your second means I’ll be okay. 😉

    Seriously? Daily? Wow. In that case I think you’ve effectively brought #1 back in concern.

    But really, the whole super germ thing is more scary than coming into contact with every day ones.

  32. Also, Anna – I have mallu family via marriage (I am not mallu – but am a southie) – have to say most mallus I’ve met are huge neat/clean freaks….

    Whew! I was starting to wonder if it was merely my, Maitri’s, Karthik’s and Puli’s families which were the odd ones out. 🙂 Hmm, maybe this desire for order IS a Southie disorder. 😉

    which in general I am OK with as long as I am not forced to do what I dont want to do… again each to their own as long as they are not making others miserable.

    Well, that’s what I try to live by, too. I hope I don’t give any impression otherwise. I was not forced to buy the cookie and I didn’t. I didn’t counsel others against buying, in fact, I wrote that I was a bit envious of the woman who wasn’t bothered by the cross-contamination, because those cookies are wonderful. Be that as it may, the taboo is too powerful for me to overcome.

    These are all highly personal issues, and I want to thank you mutineers for keeping it respectful, especially since for some of us, this is just a typical, meandering thread where we discuss what we have the choice to do…whereas for others, the compulsive desire to be clean isn’t an optional decision. I’m just putting that out there, for the sake of a friendly reminder (after I received a friendly reminder from one of you).

  33. In my family, they frown on tasting food you are cooking unless you use a separate spoon, especially the stews or soups.

  34. Seriously? Daily? Wow. In that case I think you’ve effectively brought #1 back in concern.

    Obviously, I will defer to you, because you are in public health and I am not, but this is the way I view the situation: I am going to be exposed to germs no matter what, despite cleaning my keyboard, my cellphone (weekly) and using my paper towel to open the bathroom door (thank you, cleaning staff, for wisely leaving the trash can right by it!). I accept this and I’m aware of this. But even though I’m going to be exposed to germs anyway, does that mean I should let other things which are within my control be dirty/throw my hands in the air, wave them all around like I just don’t care and embrace defeat? 🙂

    There is more at play, here; to me, the emotional relief I get from washing my hands before I touch food, even while eating out, is worth whatever risk you say I am taking by being persnickety. I won’t enjoy my food if I haven’t washed my hands. I’ll be grossed out and uncomfortable…so sometimes (a lot of times, maybe, b/c people don’t want to admit that this is a part of the reasoning behind cleanliness) this is more about mental health than physical, if that makes sense.

    Also, I do read and pay attention to the news. 😉 Well, and I obey my mother. Once she explained the danger of O.D.ing on the anti-bac everything, I started making sure that I was buying hand soap which wasn’t, etc. I’m starting to think that (with the whole staph infection thing, which is truly scary) others are viewing people like me the way I view people who eat chicken which has been pumped full of antibiotics. I blame them, you blame me, ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

  35. In my family, they frown on tasting food you are cooking unless you use a separate spoon, especially the stews or soups.

    Same. My mom always poured rasam/sambar et al in the palm of her cupped hand, then sipped it.

  36. Same. My mom always poured rasam/sambar et al in the palm of her cupped hand, then sipped it.

    Though unless you cool it first by blowing into it and letting it wait a while in the ladle – I imagine it can be very – scaldingly – hot, especially rasam! Not that I’ve ever made rasam (made sambar just once in my life – so far) 🙂

  37. She flips chapathi with no spatula, too. Her hands are ridiculous when it comes to handling hot food. 🙂

  38. overall, i think an indian household tends to be swept/mopped more frequently, while many american households have a layer of cat/dog hair on their couches (all of my friends have cats!). but, i do see more indian men picking their noses in public…and i have my doubts on the number of people who soap after wiping themselves with their hands. Hep A and E scare me!

    Yes, in India the floors are marble or concrete or tile and part of the “daily routine” is to sweep and mop in the morning. Also, more Indians than Americans have hired help which is a great load of one’s back when keeping a house clean. Carpets which are used much more in America hold allergens like pet hair in them and it is very dirty, in my opinion.

    The people in India who can afford to buy a regular supply of soap are the ones who are soaping up after wiping themselves.

    The Indian obsession with washing and taking off shoes has less to do with hygiene (as a way to counter disease) than it has to do with Brahminical notions of cleanliness (as a way to counter impurity). It sound very much the same way in your case. A much better analogy than the one you made between taking off shoes and throwing away food is the one between taking off shoes and not sharing food (ecchal in Kannada.

    In one sense this is true. Religion is tied to daily domestic life, “daily routines”, in India way more than it is tied to daily life here in USA. Whatever one’s religion, there is a worship center where high standards of cleanliness are kept. As most Indians tend to bring their religion home and have routines centered around it, whether it is morning and evening puja in the shrine room just off the kitchen or daily recitation of Koran or Bible, the same standards followed in the formal public place of worship are followed in the home as well, albeit more relaxed.

    If one is Hindu the kitchen becomes an extended shrine and high levels of cleanliness are kept there; separate plates for offering to the deity on the alter and separate plates for humans to eat off of. No licking out of the blender or cooking bowls either. Several brahmin communities still do not allow non family members into their kitchen, guests are kept in living room.

    Overall there is much more “structure” to domestic life in India than I find here in USA. This can be a great help to people like myself who tend to get lazy without a full schedule of routines.

  39. Carpets which are used much more in America hold allergens like pet hair in them and it is very dirty, in my opinion.

    I was just wondering about this. While I don’t have pets, I do have allergies, so I’m thinking of getting rid of the carpet in my apt (which has wood floors anyway), after being advised to consider it by my doc.

  40. was just wondering about this. While I don’t have pets, I do have allergies, so I’m thinking of getting rid of the carpet in my apt (which has wood floors anyway), after being advised to consider it by my doc.

    works for me. I switched from carpet to timber and allergies have dropped. Although this will result in more cleaning not less 🙂

  41. I wrote an essay about how my desi-born family finds it disgusting that Americans eat breakfast before they brush their teeth in the morning.

    Hmmm – many desis have their morning tea / coffee before brushing. So the same situation. I cant – I have to brush before even sipping water.

  42. I rinse and will brush very lightly before breakfast(when I do happen to eat it). But I save a thorough brushing for after the first meal of the day. I believe nightime brushing is the more important than brushing early in the morning.

  43. some ayurvedic experts in india say that drinking first water in the morning without brushing teeth is healthy, any arguments on that?

  44. My mum hates carpets as she imagines it to be a sink to anything and everything. spill (which become toxic spills with time), pet hair, dirt whatever. The biggest reason is she can’t control and judge how clean it is. A concrete floor in India can be mopped until one can see one’s face in it but not so with the carpet. If ever she would agree to a carpet, it would be something that is removeable and easily washable.

  45. I’m malayalee and I definitely would not fall under the category of a neat freak….I’m a big proponent of the 5 second rule. Having said that, I would say that most of my friends are the way that Anna has described herself. I wonder if it has something to do with a lot of malayalee moms in the US being nurses or doctors? My mom in neither so maybe that’s why I’m not? Just a thought.

  46. one more thing… I’m not trying to say I’m filthy or anything…just that I’m probably not as concious about germs –I probably would have still eaten the cookies even knowing that they had been touched by the gloves.

  47. some ayurvedic experts in india say that drinking first water in the morning without brushing teeth is healthy, >>any arguments on that

    I’ve started doing this as well on my dad’s insistence. I don’t think it has anything to do with not brushing the teeth, but what they recommend is to drink water as soon as you wake up.

  48. I’m a big proponent of the 5 second rule.

    I am too, as long as it’s my apt, where I mop regularly and vacuum daily 😉 I think we need to differentiate…there’s a big difference between food falling on 8th street NW and Amardeep’s baby eating the cracker he dropped on the (home) floor. Not the same, IMO.

    Having said that, I would say that most of my friends are the way that Anna has described herself. I wonder if it has something to do with a lot of malayalee moms in the US being nurses or doctors? My mom in neither so maybe that’s why I’m not? Just a thought.

    I think that’s possibly part of it…though my Mother often sounds like Shalu, too, with the common-sense cautions against being “dangerously” clean. She, like old-skool Depeche Mode, gets the balance right. I’d love to hear what other people who grew up with health professionals have to add about Sandhya’s theory. 🙂

  49. Sandhya @95: Germs almost immediately attach to the food when it drops to the floor. So, even a 1 second rule is useless. The only exception to this rule is when you attach a buttered bread to the back of a cat so that the buttered side faces up. Then you can be sure that the food will not touch the floor.

    More info on buttered cat paradox: wiki

  50. My mother is an RN with OCD. Having worked the night shift for most of her life, she now stays up into the small hours scrubbing the grout between the kitchen tiles with a toothbrush. Another favorite pastime of hers is to move left-overs into progressively smaller containers. She is constantly doing this stuff, but she is a Punjaban, not Malayalee. I think she might also be a tweeker.