Recipe? What recipe?

March 2017Cups, teaspoons and tablespoons are the bane of my life.   Who needs measurements anyway? As I try to write down exact measurements and directions for my recipes, I find I don’t like it one bit. For this I blame my mother.  Every little cook learns by observing. It seemed to me that my mother would throw random spices in random amounts into a pot to create a tasty dish. Her recipes for family favorites were safely tucked away in her head. Nothing was ever recorded or written down.  Cooking was an art form for my mother but that doesn’t help me now as I try to re-create childhood favorites. I have to rely on my memory and my palate.So what would have happened if I had insisted that my mother share a recipe? I imagined her poetic and cryptic answer to my question.What Recipe?Where is the recipe, I ask my motherWhat recipe, she replies?Just take a small onionA pinch of hingA hint of turmericA splash of golden gheeSome diced onion and mustard seedsA few okraA couple of tomatoesA handful of shredded coconutJust a little coriander powderA bit of cooked lentilsTwo fiery peppersSalt, pepper and tamarindMix, cook, and serveThe tangy smoky sauce perfect with steaming riceHow did she do it?Give me a recipe, I plead.What recipe, she asks?Just add a handful…You get the idea.THE END