Dash of nostalgia, burst of colour

Illustrations of the recipes of baati hue mirch. Pics courtesy/The Artist

There's a reason why a piping hot bowl of home-made chicken soup is an instant pick-me-up when you're under the weather - a feat store-bought versions can seldom accomplish. Or why five-rupee, rastewala kala khatta golas are no match for fancy gelato cups on sweltering summer afternoons. It's because the knowledge of being cared for is synonymous with sipping on a comforting broth dished out just for you. And because, the nostalgia of a sneaky, forbidden gola with friends after school, is a slurpy toast to the good ol' days. It is this intrinsic connection between what's on our plate and what's in our heart that Barcelona-based artist Sophia Katharina is attempting to capture with The Food And Love Project.

As part of it, the 25-year-old documents crowd-sourced stories of food and love, along with the recipes. She then illustrates the recipes, and sends the participants their personal art prints. With over 30 such stories in her kitty, the illustrator has sketched out a gallery of recipes from across the globe, from India to Switzerland. Katharina, who was born in Zurich but raised in Spain, shares that the project is a result of the constant need for reinvention that the pandemic prompted.

Illustrations of the recipes of seitan

"I've always admired the creativity that comes with cooking. I already had vague ideas of combining food and art. Then, in January 2021, the spark of inspiration that brought it all together came from a conversation I had with a friend about the beauty of cooking and the meaning of food," she recalls, in an email interaction. The friend had said, "Cooking for someone is a way of saying I love you," she says, reminding us how, in our desi lives, it's the equivalent of, "Did you eat?"
His statement led her to investigate the emotional connection we create through food. "It fascinates me how smell and taste are present in our memories. I wanted to ask everybody about their experience," she elaborates, adding that she first posted a call for stories in February.

Browsing through the project is like setting off on a delicious voyage. Each recipe, accompanied by minimalistic, thoughtful illustrations, opens a window to delicate experiences. There's the braided butterzopf, which brings to life the story of a baker's kindness to a boy during a famine in Switzerland. The recipe of seitan, which lists love and patience as ingredients, is one of friendship, while scenes from a Hawaiian escape come alive in the story of banana bread.

Sophia Katharina

"I've got recipes from all kinds of people - devoted vegans, meat lovers, grandmothers, grandchildren, chefs, etc - from different cultures. There's so much beauty in the way a person writes down their memories; it's unique to their personality," she notes. So, on her part, it's important to reward their trust with an artwork that turns their words into images. "When you put all the stories together, you see how different we are as individuals, and also how much we have in common. This is why interaction is so inspiring," she signs off. We agree.

Log on to @soephely on Instagram or soephely.com/foodandloveproject

Butterzopf

Ingredients
. 1 kg flour
. 25 g salt
. 150 g butter
. 42 g yeast
. 5.5 dl lukewarm milk
. 1 tsp honey
. 1 egg, whisked

Method
Mix the flour and salt; form a small crater. Place the butter pieces on the higher sides. Dissolve the yeast in milk; add honey, and pour it into the crater. Mix a little with the flour; the butter and yeast shouldn't mix yet. Let it sit for a few minutes until bubbles form. Mix everything together to form a dough. Cover with a damp cloth and let it double in size at room temperature. Form two strands of equal length. Cross them to make a braid.

Place on a buttered tray sprinkled with flour, and let it rise for 15 minutes. Preheat the oven to 200°C top/bottom heat. Brush the braid with whisked egg. Bake in the lower half for 50 to 60 minutes. Check if the bread is fully baked by tapping on it from below; if baked, it makes a hollow sound. Let it cool. Traditionally, it's not cut into slices, but broken apart by hand at the cross.