An Alchemy called Amtee.
She now hobbles. My mother in law, Manjiri Date. The aching joints and kyphotic spine have diminished her speed and agility. Her eyes still testimony to the disharmony between her chronological age and her enthusiasm. She nonetheles still rules the roost, her frail demeanour notwithstanding. Always in charge of the situation, and still retaining the razor sharp mental faculties. An innately restless soul, her frail exterior still packs a punch when it comes to house keeping or attending to guests.
She was never the types to deck up or drape herself in any extravagant attire. She would wear a crisp, pastel, cotton saree, a small beacon of vermilion, and just a hint of talcum powder. Groomed in an era, where beauty or life at large swayed in simplicity, never subservient to any ostentatious cosmetic enhancement. Her kitchen would always be spotless clean, everything in its place and a place for everything.
They both lived a very simple, frugal, uncomplicated life untouched by lust for luxuries of creature comfort. Her routine was keeping herself busy with mundane domestic chores. Her major preoccupation other than animatedly participating in the Television serials, was worrying. This activity never really required a legitimate cause. It could even be the running nose of the domestic help's 2 year old toddler, or then the fast approaching unit test of her grandson. Worrying was her second nature, an indulgence that she just couldn't abstain from. She had taken 'worrying' to entirely another level, raised it to almost an art form. The other activity that she really excelled was cooking. She was a highly accomplished cook, blessed with that special touch. A sublime touch that transformed culinary skills to an unfathomable alchemy. This touch was most obvious when she cooked the ubiquitous dal- called 'Amtee'in colloquial marathi.
This Amtee and rice is the staple food of most Brahmin households. Cooking this Amtee, made of lentils, is the litmus test of the culinary skills of the lady of the house. It was almost wielded as a weapon of torment by the mothers in law, to grill and test the grooming of the newly wed daughter in law.
It is a simple curry, and yet made complex by garnishing with a wide variety of home made spices, herbs, coconut shavings, and of course the trademark Ghee. The most unique feature of this Dal, is the mysterious tweak in the taste, effected at the appropriate moment rendering it utterly delectable. All families carry this unique legacy, handed over as a culinary heirloom, a trade secret that imparts a touch of divinity to this simple, mundane curry. The perfect concoction is not too spicy, has a hint of sour, a touch of tanginess, a subtle sweetness imbibed by milligrams of prefect amount of jaggery and most importantly a consistency that homogenises the lentils to a perfect viscosity. A viscosity that ensures a conjugal union with the steaming rice. The nostrils saturate with that irresistible aroma, titillate the taste buds almost wrenching and emptying the salivary glands.
The perfectly blended mouthful of Amtee-bhaat drives the taste buds to ecstasy. They first explode in delight, delirious with pleasure. Then they become meditative and enter a state of bliss,as the combined effects of the individual ingredients effect a gastronomic symphony. The ruminated remains, caressed by the papillae of the tongue finally ease down the gullet, not before leaving an after taste, that begs for the next mouthful. Indulgence at its best. The rice and dal are caressed together and harmonized gently, to ready the next missile, which detonates the oral cavity. Watching another, engaging in this self indulgence justifies the small prayer chanted just prior to a meal.
This prayer recited just before embarking on a meal refers to food as Brahma- the ultimate truth.( Anna he poorna Brahma). This truth is revealed every time I am blessed to have a meal of Amtee Bhaat cooked by this octagenraian. As I wash my hands, i mentally rephrase the cliched statement-
" The way to a man's salvation is through his taste buds.".
She now hobbles. My mother in law, Manjiri Date. The aching joints and kyphotic spine have diminished her speed and agility. Her eyes still testimony to the disharmony between her chronological age and her enthusiasm. She nonetheles still rules the roost, her frail demeanour notwithstanding. Always in charge of the situation, and still retaining the razor sharp mental faculties. An innately restless soul, her frail exterior still packs a punch when it comes to house keeping or attending to guests.
She was never the types to deck up or drape herself in any extravagant attire. She would wear a crisp, pastel, cotton saree, a small beacon of vermilion, and just a hint of talcum powder. Groomed in an era, where beauty or life at large swayed in simplicity, never subservient to any ostentatious cosmetic enhancement. Her kitchen would always be spotless clean, everything in its place and a place for everything.
They both lived a very simple, frugal, uncomplicated life untouched by lust for luxuries of creature comfort. Her routine was keeping herself busy with mundane domestic chores. Her major preoccupation other than animatedly participating in the Television serials, was worrying. This activity never really required a legitimate cause. It could even be the running nose of the domestic help's 2 year old toddler, or then the fast approaching unit test of her grandson. Worrying was her second nature, an indulgence that she just couldn't abstain from. She had taken 'worrying' to entirely another level, raised it to almost an art form. The other activity that she really excelled was cooking. She was a highly accomplished cook, blessed with that special touch. A sublime touch that transformed culinary skills to an unfathomable alchemy. This touch was most obvious when she cooked the ubiquitous dal- called 'Amtee'in colloquial marathi.
This Amtee and rice is the staple food of most Brahmin households. Cooking this Amtee, made of lentils, is the litmus test of the culinary skills of the lady of the house. It was almost wielded as a weapon of torment by the mothers in law, to grill and test the grooming of the newly wed daughter in law.
It is a simple curry, and yet made complex by garnishing with a wide variety of home made spices, herbs, coconut shavings, and of course the trademark Ghee. The most unique feature of this Dal, is the mysterious tweak in the taste, effected at the appropriate moment rendering it utterly delectable. All families carry this unique legacy, handed over as a culinary heirloom, a trade secret that imparts a touch of divinity to this simple, mundane curry. The perfect concoction is not too spicy, has a hint of sour, a touch of tanginess, a subtle sweetness imbibed by milligrams of prefect amount of jaggery and most importantly a consistency that homogenises the lentils to a perfect viscosity. A viscosity that ensures a conjugal union with the steaming rice. The nostrils saturate with that irresistible aroma, titillate the taste buds almost wrenching and emptying the salivary glands.
The perfectly blended mouthful of Amtee-bhaat drives the taste buds to ecstasy. They first explode in delight, delirious with pleasure. Then they become meditative and enter a state of bliss,as the combined effects of the individual ingredients effect a gastronomic symphony. The ruminated remains, caressed by the papillae of the tongue finally ease down the gullet, not before leaving an after taste, that begs for the next mouthful. Indulgence at its best. The rice and dal are caressed together and harmonized gently, to ready the next missile, which detonates the oral cavity. Watching another, engaging in this self indulgence justifies the small prayer chanted just prior to a meal.
This prayer recited just before embarking on a meal refers to food as Brahma- the ultimate truth.( Anna he poorna Brahma). This truth is revealed every time I am blessed to have a meal of Amtee Bhaat cooked by this octagenraian. As I wash my hands, i mentally rephrase the cliched statement-
" The way to a man's salvation is through his taste buds.".
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