Dudurudh

Each time I pound the pestle, I get a whiff of the cinnamon and the clove and the mace underneath. 

Crush and grind until the 7 spices are one big garam masala. 

A garam masala.

Did you know that every garam masala has a different composition of spices?

The ancestors sigh. My ignorance is showing. 

Scoop the powder out with finger tips only.

Wash the mortar with water only.

Add the ginger, garlic and green chillis,

then take a sip of water. 

Now chadacchu chadacchu edukk. 

Untranslateable no? 

Mechanically described, it’s simply crushing everything into a paste. 

The ancestors cringe overhead. Crushing??

Chaddakkaling is grinding and crushing and juicing all at once.  It’s leaning over the countertop and forcing your body’s entire weight through your wrist into the pestle and watching closely the chilli and garlic and ginger whose each strand you now recognize, including the one resolute one that simply won’t mix, to create complex  flavor from raw freshness. 

A pearl of sweat travels down the back of my spine. Good food is hard work. 

The ancestors chuckle. 

Is this the right proportion?

Rub a small sample between the thumb and index finger and take a sniff. Feels about right? 

The ancestors confer among themselves and nod in approval. 

The onions are cooking on a medium flame. 

When do I add the chicken? And the chill ginger garlic paste? How long do I fry the onions? When do I take the rice off the heat?? 

Here, time is measured in touch, 

taste and smell. 

To cook, you must breathe. 

And when the dum breaks open,

Do it again.

To cook is to breathe is to live. 

(Add salt to taste and serve hot)