COUNTRY COUNTINGS

COUNTRY COUNTINGS

The Sky has been overcast for days now. Torrential South West Rains though late have gained momentum showering bounties across. The Onset of rains in Palakkad had changed the weather across Coimbatore too. Though rains are in a spitting range or to the maximum of drizzle it is continuous with intermittent pouring. The cool breeze has already brought out sweaters and monkey caps for most of the coimbatorean’s.

Sunday Morning is the only day I get up early earnestly looking forward to cook for my two girls – one being my wife and they too reciprocate the same feeling. The source of a fresh farm country chicken with farm grown lean mutton enticed me to pre-order the same for Sunday Brunch. The sight of a country chicken cut to curry sizes with its skin, broached in turmeric water is good enough energy to get me going. The routine country preparatory masalas and the earthen pot were beaming in glory to merge themselves with the hero to create a culinary treat for our family. This time the accompaniment was the humble mutton liver which needs no introduction in our family as to how it would be treated. It is the same way as my grandmother, my aunts and my dad would have hosted them and I try to menially follow them.

As the Kerala Matta Rice bloomed in the shiny, glossy signaling that it would be ready in some time, a whiff of air whisked past my nose from the earthen pot. The fragrance of country chicken curry took me back to the time when in my conscience memory I accompanied a country chicken from its home to my taste buds. Muthashan (My Grandfather) said “Nyan illya” (meaning I won’t join) he said to my father which is quite natural for the character he enshrined. The sight of killing a being was not something my father or grandfather would watch as they fall under Dev Ganas and people like me are Asura Ganas. Sasi Elecha one of my Dad’s brothers was working with the Tamil Nadu Police and entrusted with the task of cleaning after the booty was laid to rest by Eithashan (if my memory is correct). A fire was lit on the sideyards of the house which had some Tapioca, Tubers, yams few eucalyptus trees, a big tamarind tree and banana trees growing around. Grandfather grew just about anything in the 72 cents of land my grandmother owned. His earnings were only from what he sowed including his children. My father was instructing Sasi elecha to take care that all the feathers including the tiny ones are burnt so that the cleaning process is complete. I stood there watching the fowl being burnt in the firewood. The sweet fragrance of smoked chicken ensemble with turmeric and salt entangled with the smell of eucalyptus and sweet smells of tubers around. That fragrance is etched in memory and has no match for the numerous grills, barbeques had in various eateries which I could manage till date.

As this was getting done, the king found its way to the kitchen and the fragrance of roasted coriander seeds with red chillis breezed through the small wooden bracket windows of the kitchen and door leading to the dining hall. Kaiser our German shepherd licked his lips and sounded relaxed with the soothing fragrances. So was my mind. I watched my aunt Jaya pachi grinding the masalas to fine paste and then mixing those with the washed fowl. A generous spread of curry leaves, small chunks of ginger and whole garlic cloves added spine to the body texture.

As I ran towards the outer verandah where Muthashan (My Grandfather) sat in his leaning cloth chair I heard a familiar voice. My Ammuma (my Grandmother) who sat in the bench next to the door was doing routine gossips with an old great grandmother Choranamma our good old neighbor. The smile in her face and her fragile framework with the cloth and the stick in her hand reminded me of many demonic characters I had read in fables but she was a treasure full of fables, wisdom and stories which can interest any 6 year old boy.

My hunger pangs had been intensified by the thought of the menu declared during the morning breakfast and the fragrances did no good in testing my patience. My brother was getting fed the baby food at 12 and I could not hold my smile. Well it was not for the satisfaction that my brother is getting his food but the thought that immediately after he fills his tummy I would be definitely served and poor chap he cannot taste it. This wicked thought though juvenile in nature had emanated from a hungry meat lover.

As we sat on that day in the verandah to have food in a round circle, I saw all the plates being served. I waited with baited breath to be served. The piping hot rice let its steam on my face. Once I took the first morsel of the curry with the matta rice a sense of taste buds had begun their journey with me which has stayed with me till date. The roasted coconut, red chillis and corianders and ground pepper made its way not to my intestines but were seeped in annals of my mind and blood. The tender juicy chicken with the spicy curry makes one huffing for breath and sipping water after few morsels for it leaves a peppery, succulent taste such that your throat longs for more. The stomach may be full but mind will never and you long for more. My Grandfather (Muthashan) who sat in front of me had a smile on his face as I moved my eyes from my plate to the outer world for a moment from the time food was served.

The Mango flowers had made way for fruits and the seeds lay in abundance on the grounds half eaten by squirrels and birds in tandem. The rains were just started signaling the end of our vacation but it was a beginning. A beginning for the bounties I carried from the country. How common it was for my family back then to live on bounties from nature. The country chicken curry, the country counting’s with the family were etched in memory. Just then my daughter said to me “Papa, superb. Spicy but I want more “. What more could you get a reciprocation when your mind meets your deed. As they say “Not everyone likes all the flavors, but each flavor is someone’s favorite”. This time it’s the family favorite….The country Chicken curry.