Oh how I miss thee...
the hurried kiss goodbye while one rushes to work early or the other;
'delivering' your coffee or lunch forgotten at home;
hanging out in the kitchen to catch up on the day;
All that seems in the distant past.
But now there's more to miss you in the here and now-
Where is the ginger that I need to slice and add to the cumin, now going from golden to black-ish in the pan. In its stead I find half a onion. It won't be a night of potato-jhol (tomato n potato soup with ginger, cumin and whole red chilli-peppers) - a cold nights' favorite.
Instead, it'll have to be a curry. Gotta think fast - cumins sizzle as does my heart for you :)
Now where would YOU put that knife - definitely not where it had lain before. Or the cutting board? It too felt lost in a corner.
Onions douse some of the ardor in the pan, saving the cumins, and thinking ahead like you would, I frantically look for tomatoes. Next to those I find the, hitherto elusive, ginger root - with some chagrin. If only I'd thought like you a tad earlier. Did I mention I miss you?
Onions and cumin won't hold out for long. Life in there needs some color to contrast with the monotone of reality. In goes turmeric and sizzles a bit, followed by chilli-powder, coriander and salt. And now some ginger and garlic with a dash of water. It's all rather tempestuous and colorful and the mind wanders back to similar times :)
Salt? where is the salt - ah! its status has been raised one level to hobnob with the coffee and sugar.
On the other hand, newly added dainty spoons make short work of guess-work in the spice rack.
Oh! the mood in the pan is darkening again and it needs zest and a more sanguine outlook. In go the tomato paste from a half used can sitting forlorn in the fridge - missing you I suppose.
Peas are predictably in the freezer - cold and unemotional on their own. Potatoes by contrast are seething in the microwave. In go the peas to chill things a bit followed closely by cut up microwaved potatoes. It all needed some water to help mix things along and the lid to help simmer for a bit.
As I frantically hunt for the plate to dole out some of the concoction for tasting, I feel once again hapless and helpless, kinda like I always feel when head-over-heels in your love. They're discovered in a shelf which is a third cousin, twice removed of their original abode. But now the concoction lacks something ... what would that be - yes Garam Masala!! That hasn't wandered away.
Of course, what I miss most is how thoroughly you've made in forget the way to the kitchen....
