What makes a Bengali, Bengali? The answer always seems to lie in fish. As a typical Bengali who spent his whole life trying to avoid fish, I always felt I was just not Bengali enough because I didn't salivate at the prospect of koi-maach. Moving to America, I thought I had escaped the accusing stare of the beady-eyed rui. And then I find myself in an Asian fish market in San Francisco staring nostalgically at piles of silvery fish. We grew up in communities of taste, says Prof. Krishnendu Ray. It is subconsciously embedded. In the act of migration, that community of taste is suddenly lost.

Prof. Ray should know. After coming to the US to study political economy of development and underdevelopment, he was, as he puts it, waylaid by that disreputable phenomenon? nostalgia or the idealizing of home-cooked food? What started as his personal journey to deal with the loss of shukto and ilish on a monsoon afternoon, has now become the first actual study of meals and memories in Bengali-American households? The Migrant's Table?.

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