Why Maggis goodness has lasted us for decades I realised recently that there is a simple way of telling apart pre-liberalisation and post-liberalisation kids. See someone struggling with packaging? Unable to open chips packets? Befuddled by sugar sachets? Pre-lib. Post-lib kids tear and cut and squint at nutrition-value charts with effortless ease. But we pre-lib kids remember the time before,when plastic and food never mixed,when there were but a few packaged brands on the grocery shelves. Amul. Rasna. Rooh Afza. Glucon-D. And,of course,Maggi. Unlike some of those others,Maggi survived liberalisation,thanks to its cultural embeddedness. As Xerox could have told you,you know a brand dominates when it becomes synonymous with what it sells. (Some wag called it brand genericide. Google it.) So,as comfort food you may eat Top Ramen,or Wai Wai,or Cup oNoodles. But youre always thinking of it as Maggi. Nestle,which owns the Maggi brand,has cannily embraced the cultural significance of their brand,rather than fighting it. Nothing brings emotions to a boil in under two minutes better than a great,montage-based ad for one of Indias beloved,ubiquitous brands. Hamara Bajaj pioneered this brilliantly. But the Me and Meri Maggi spot that aired a few years back works pretty well,too: Maggi being made,quick and dirty,at a roadside chai stall; for jawans in a tent pitched somewhere rocky and high-altitude; being cooled in an iron kettle thats been plunged into a fast-flowing stream; being served by a hassled boy to a bored-looking date,on an ineptly-decorated tray with roses; tossed into a sandwich in a crowded dorm room; sold to bus commuters in a rainstorm; still in the packet,filling a suitcase,confusing customs officials at a foreign airport. Each of these resonates in a particular kind of way. Perhaps you have,as I have,stood by a little chai ki dukaan in the midnight hours before some deadline,notes rolled up in one hand and a cheap cigarette clutched in the other,while admiringly watching the deftness with which the little guy over the gas ring is blending ande ki bhujia and noodles to make that brilliant invention,Egg Maggi? If not,then you will no doubt have,as I have,stared at a saucepan of water on an ancient hot plate in a chilly dorm room,willing the water to boil while you clutch your half-open packet in one frozen arm,ready to throw it in at precisely the correct moment,reminding yourself under your breath that timing is everything when it comes to great cooking? Or perhaps you have gone to the local Indian store in your North American neighbourhood,ducked past the garish salwar-kameezes and the racks with old VHS videos,and landed with a relieved sigh in front of the shelves packed,floor-to-ceiling,with the familiar yellow packet that says to you as clearly as the clatter of dishes in a familiar kitchen: Dinner From Home. Not bad,especially for a brand founded by and named for a nineteenth-century Swiss miller. While its true that Maggi first opened up to us the possibility of food being packaged and convenient,that wouldnt explain the place it holds in our hearts. No,its inescapable desi-ness comes from the little packet of flavouring,what the marketing guys wanted us to call a TasteMaker,and which we were perfectly capable of eating straight,turning into a soup,or as extra masala for other dishes. For other cultures,other tastes: in Indonesia they like the bone soup TasteMaker (sup tulang),and in South Africa,the barbecue Boer sausage (Boerewors). But its what you do with the noodles,the flavour packet,and the boiling water that counts. Make it with vegetables for your kids,and you can convince yourself youre being a good parent. You can make pakoras of it,or upma. You can eat it with salsa,with a bit of salad dressing,with leftover keema,with chopped up tomatoes and a dash of Tabasco it soaks up pretty much everything well. You can have it drier,strained and steaming. Or you can have it soupy and wet. One well-known trick,of course,is to boil the water twice. Cook the noodles once. Then toss away that water its waxy and will congeal anyway. Put the almost-cooked noodles into another pot of boiling water,turn the heat down,and only then add the masala. You get the soupiness without the waxiness. That is,in the end,the one problem with Maggi that Ive never been able to get beyond,and it,naturally,has personal history behind it,as everyone does with Maggi. I once,in middle school,won a quiz which Nestle had sponsored. The prize was a hamper of Maggi-branded stuff and what I seem to recall felt like a years supply of noodles. I didnt object to the hot and sweet tomato chilli sauce who would,its different but the memory of hours-old Maggi in my school tiffin box is an excellent cure for any tendency towards a romantic craving for the dashed thing. The congealed,cloying mass that instant noodles are capable of becoming is truly dreadful to behold,and worse to eat. Dont just cook it in two minutes eat it in two as well.
