I know the exact moment the insouciance turned to cold fear. It was in the "Pork for Non Muslims" section of the supermarket when one of my keepers* said with great enthusiasm: "Why only half a kilo, let's get more." I see. So expectations are rather high then. We were buying ingredients for pandhi curry or Coorg pork. To be made by me at my own insistence.
It's not even that it's a laborious thing to make; most important of all is the fact that devotees of it do not handle disappointment well. Sure I've made it before, but that was for me and more for amusement than sustenance. Cooking for others is a nightmare. My brother and sister-in-law will testify to this with a certain arid lasagne as Exhibit A. (I doubt it was biodegradable so it's probably still there, lurking dangerously in a dark corner, biding its time). The brother probably also has stories from much further back.
In anticipatory panic this afternoon, I actually picked up the phone to call the cook in California whose recipe (and therefore, responsibility) it is, to demand the exact percentage of colour in "really black". I didn't make the call because I was in the middle of roasting the spices and didn't want to miss the good bit where it went from really black to too black. Also, it would have been five in the morning there.
But as with all elaborate cooking, the process relaxes you and you start to enjoy yourself. I strongly believe it comes from the same root as the satisfaction you got from stirring the squelchy stuff on the edge of a puddle with a stick.
Three and a half hours later, I have such an excellent pandhi curry that I wouldn't believe I made it if I hadn't witnessed it with my own piggy eyes. And cooking with a maid to clean up after you and a grocer who delivers to your doorstep is a thing of beauty and a joy forever.
*Another post, another time.
6 comments:
It's probably a good thing you didn't call as I would have said: "It needs to be as black as a mood without a cling to person to."
Or something almost as completely not unhelpful... not. And not just because it was 5am...
Er... not because I'm mean or anything, but because it must be felt... grasshopper that sort of thing.
All in a days work huh?
cooking will be your job when you come home, everything needed will be delivered at your kitchen door, maid and man servant provided ! achan
As her keeper, I have to show my gratitude to the Pork.... of-course at this moment i thank the pig who lay down its life for the pleasure of my tongue, but above all The pork had wonderfully spicy flavors.. in fact so spicy that i spent most of the next day in solitary confident in various locations trying to get the pork out of my system.
But here is a testimony of a well fed keeper the pork was excellent...when are you cooking again.....
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