Innerdialects

Blogmate Mou asks my recipe of the season:

We’ve just got back from totally southern appam/coconut milk, chutneys with steaming idlis, prawn stirred rice, mint soup, pickled baby mangoes and stew.

Mou asked for one recipe- I have too many stoves in my head, too many Flavors and spices. Will need to sort out head before we step into new things. At home my kitchen is a place filled with notes on frig, doors, windows. Words, Scripture, One liner prayers, these are my recipes.

Like a scruffy bouquet, every dish I fix is an all by itself, non repeatable…

MOU! Maybe my fish curry. Its the closest thing I have with my granma, Tara. Its what I share with my Ma too. You’d scent a whole coast of coconut. And chilli shred. Coriander, Jeera, fine roasted, mixed in with onion, methi seed, tamarind pulp, tomato coarse ground pulp.All of that seasoned with curry leaf in coconut oil, before / or after you toss slices in and cook gentle. Coconut milk added as you simmer that pot down. Am told its best to cook this in a mud pot but haven’t done that; should do soon though. Before you close that lid, toss in two or three sliced green chilli, and shredded coriander leaf.

Mou, I am not the best cook, but I believe the best food is served when garnished with love and a prayer for everyone’s wellbeing.

Does all this tally with my Title and Pic? Dunno. Its a chilly day, we’ve not unwound from our trip. It feels good and strong, in the heart where seasons turn turn turn; where colors begin and words can be bold or quiet: where prayers pray at altars wide as an earth tripping over and over on human folly or joy.

I choose Joy. Mixed with gingery awe. New year beginnings, old year endings, December decor, memos, errands, wishes, lists, shops to shop at, people, some with nothing, some with broken eyes, and my own spirit rising falling rising like the sun & rain, …like prayers I pray in the last week of another run: I pray peace with God. In the end, it is the one flavor that outruns all.