Turmeric Latte and Other Culinary Cons

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Turmeric Latte and Other Culinary Cons

Illustration: Juergen Dsouza

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hen I was 13 and my father went out of town on work, I was sent to stay with my cousin M. Now M had been drinking haldi doodh every day since she was six because she was a really really skinny kid, whose parents were worried about her skinniness and decided doodh with haldi would solve this problem. (It didn’t.) When I went to stay over at her place, I was immediately put on the haldi-doodh ritual too. I’ll drink plain milk, I begged my aunt, disgusted by the grossness of turmeric milk, but she would have none of it. I then took to sneakily pouring it down the sink.

Last year, M, who is no longer a really really skinny kid, sent me a picture from Los Angeles. It was a glass of yellow milk in a fancy white cup. She was with an American acquaintance, who had ordered a turmeric latte. “Have you had it,” the girl had asked M. “It’s like a cup of sunshine!”

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