Tibetan Cooking: Recipes for Daily Living, Celebration, and Ceremony - Softcover

My interest in Tibetan food, and its intrinsic connection to the divine, was sparked one late summer afternoon in 1978. Venerable Lama Norlha, a deeply inspiring teacher, was visiting my humble home in the mountains. He had just arrived from India, invited by a Buddhist student and mutual friend. Before having lunch together Lama began to look around the kitchen for a cup of some kind. Without the benefit of a mutual language, we found a stemmed dessert glass. This we set on a saucer and in the glass poured some fresh black tea to overflowing. Lama then placed it on the window sill above the counter and said "Mahakala," the name of the dharma protector of our lineage.

I was deeply moved by Lama Norhla's devotion, adhering to his formal practice, although far removed from any familiar place. I was also very grateful to know that a bit of boiled water and pinch of tea was enough, an acceptable offering due to the reverent manner in which it was given. And also, to learn by following this example, that one can integrate one's practice into daily life with grace and simplicity. This offering, linking the divine and the mundane, sanctified not only that meal but also the life supporting sustenance provided by all our daily meals.

Many years later I married my husband Gala, a carpet master from Eastern Tibet. Traditionally, Tibetan men are not cooks, but during his years of surviving as a child raised in a refugee settlement in the northern wilderness area of Nepal, he had learned many skills, among them cooking. He promptly saw the advantage of teaching me all his favorite dishes and techniques. Learning was easy, because I had grown up cooking with my grandmother, and have always loved to cook.

Every Sunday after church we would come home to a house that smelled of herbs and roasted meat and potatoes. It was the day of the week that the whole family had a late lunch together and enjoyed a day of rest. It was a special time. My father was home from work and we wore our best clothes. The associations of singing, incense and flowers in church, and the comfort of my grandmother cooking, have stayed with me as a grounded path and another link between the sacred and ordinary.

When preparing food for large numbers of people, a group effort is required. Tibetan families are generally large; therefore learning to prepare food together is part of the natural flow of life. It becomes fun. The process of preparing a meal becomes more social and also gets done faster. Most traditional foods are not instant or easy, being made for "scratch" as we say. However, the more you do it, the easier it becomes, like anything else. Generally speaking, Tibetans know how to get the job done. An entire day can be congenially spent cooking and eating, mixed with laughter and song.

When I think of Tibetan food, I am reminded of the many stories Gala has told me over the years, of the times when food was not readily available. His mother traded her jewelery and traditional hair ornaments for food. The story of his family’s three year journey on foot, running for their lives from the Communist Chinese Army, is a poignant one. During his family's transition from impoverished, complex circumstances in exile to the relative security of the modern world, food has been central to survival both physically and esoterically. One of his statements says it all: "People practice dharma when they have food enough."

For generations tribal peoples have lived in the Eastern part of the Tibetan plateau. They were rich in animals, managing herds of goats, sheep, yaks and horses. Everything that was needed -- food, clothing and shelter -- was derived from the animals. Families moved alongside their animals to different grazing areas on a cyclical basis. During yak caravans stretching over several months, the staples not grown in the region were obtained through bartering. Wool and butter were traded for barley, salt and tea.

In eastern Tibet, the diet consisted of dairy products: milk, butter, various forms of dried cheese, yoghurt, dried meat and tsampa (roasted barley flour). Every moment was spent in some aspect of survival and maintaining the food supply, beginning each day with milking the animals.

Everything essential to the life of these nomads came from the land that supported the grazing herds. Butter was stored inside a leather bag, sewn from the skin of the goat. This could hold about one hundred pounds and would serve as a sustaining gift to a local monastery. The people of the earth provided all the food for the Lamas and monks, who were then free to read the texts and continue the practice of the Buddha Dharma, the treasure of Tibetan culture. In turn, the spiritual life of the nomads was nourished by the spiritual practice of the Lamas and monks. The people relied on the Lamas in all the important and critical times of life, including sickness, birth, death and at the time of life changing decisions.

This past spring a powerful transition occurred in our home and Tibetan food was central to the process of healing. Gala suddenly became ill and his life was threatened. Remarkably, the ancient ways of healing with herbal medicine, food and prayer gave him back his life. Initially we found a Tibetan doctor who was also a Lama. Fortunately he ws able to come to our home immediately. He performed the diagnosis and had many medicinal herbs with him in a huge bag. The prescription was made, and the appropriate puja conducted. This process took all day. The Lama then prescribed a course of treatment to follow.

We had many visitors coming to our home to wish Gala well, all appearing with bags of food: fresh vegetables hard to find in our area and abundant staples and beverages to serve other visitors. Many foods were offered through multiple pujas: whole grains, butter, honey, meat, sugar and spirits. The abundance of good intentions represented in the offering of food was used to remove obstacles and clear the way for recovery. Ironically, while all this food was coming into our home, my husband had to be fasting on a very simple diet of thin rice soup and taking herbal medicine around the clock. At times the absence of food is what creates the balance. Meanwhile, family and friends gathered to feast and cook, providing inspiration to live and recover.

This situation exemplified the integrated relationship between sustenance and survival. While it is no mystery that people have to eat to live, it has always impressed me that water, food and fasting are prominent in many Tibetan Buddhist ritual ceremonies. At times those present eat the consecrated food and at other times the consecrated food is burnt and offered. Realizing that food is not a metaphor for spiritual nourishment but is itself spiritual, we can prepare and eat food with the appropriate intention and in so doing, the body, speech and mind are nourished.