Mother's Day Menu & Poetry

Mother's Day. Ha! Every day is 'mother's day', every day is father's day, every day is child's day, every day is everyone's day! What stuff and nonsense!

But...

I'd ignore it all if I hadn't already committed to hosting a mother's day tea. Lined up in the kitchen are ingredients ready for me to transform into chickpea salad, guava fruit salad, hunter beef sandwiches, and pineapple upside down cake. The menu will further include pani-puri puffs and dehi baray. 

Late in life I've come to appreciate these commercialized excuses for for boosting consumerism as opportunities to affirm certain useful and universal values. In a world which has mostly demeaned the importance of mothering, why not stop and take a moment to celebrate motherhood? Its the ultimate arena of transformation. Constant presence, unconditional love, profound mirroring, perpetual challenge and sheer joyous slog!

My daughter gave me permission to share this poem I wrote for her. Its a cheat's way to blog. So sue me. Chickpeas call! 

Metamorphosis

A poem for Sofia on her 16^th birthday

My child, my salty lass

My soft-focus pearl

My pomegranate ruby

My oceanic emerald

Who would have imagined

this stained-glass butterfly

you are becoming

slowly unfolding from pupa-gestation

limbs and wings painstaking

in the drying and setting

delicately stretching

tentatively testing

air, fragrance, temperature

fluttering

but not yet

flying

Not true all that -

There’s a tigress in there somewhere

ready to roam the jungle sleekly

and snarl and sink jaw

and have fill of a kill

to sate the inner animal

And that’s not true either -

for there’s  a coltish foal

snorting and stamping stilettos

ready to whip-snap muscles

to sprint and stride

pass the finish line

and shine

And that’s not true either -

for what’s that I see?

Iridescent plumage betraying

the exotic centre of your avian

being  - a bird of paradise

beckoning

Every time I look upon you

I see something new

and rich

kaleidoscopic

To love you to have you to hold you

has been the dream of my mothering eye

I sit beside you in awe

and hold you in my heart

tenderly, foreverly

as I gaze upon the light and joy in your secret

and I know it is for me

to hold aloft that dream in the cave of my heart

until you see by that same light within

and reach out to it tenderly

eagerly

to claim it totally

foreverly

Who knows

how long

that might be

No matter

for I am lost

in the silken folds

of this flowing

and draping

and twisting

seeking, hoping

the duet holds its spell

while the creaturely strength of a hundred

shades of being

generates and reverberates

through every layer

terrestrial and celestial

as you are born into

a true facsimile of

You

Mama

Karachi  9^th November 2010

Glossary:

Pani puri puffs:  tiny fried rounds of flattened discs of dough that puff up into crisp spheres into which one then makes a hole on one side and fills with boiled chickpeas and a variety of watery tamarind based chutneys (sweet or chillified). Essentially a Gujurati snack, these delicate bouchees are fun to eat and moreish.

Dehi baray: fried gram flour dumplings nestled in a delicately seasoned yoghurt sauce, served with tamarind chutney, coriander chutney and optional crunchy toppings.

 

Cooking with Presence ©

The Two-fold Courtesy to Cooking

As a very young woman with a keen love of cooking and breaking bread with family and friends, a sheet of paper came into my possession on which was written something by Rumi’s cook. In it he spoke about the two-fold courtesy towards food. It struck a chord deep within me - for being an instinctive cook, it mirrored an awareness that I had unconsciously been bringing to my cooking -  and still do though now more consciously.

The first courtesy, he wrote, is the courtesy towards the food ingredients themselves, for through the process of preparing and cooking you are giving the raw materials the chance to become part of a higher order of being – to transform from the vegetable or animal to the human. And in Islamic cosmology there is no higher being created that inhabits this dimension, the world of the Seen. Notwithstanding the complaint voiced by the angels when Allah informs them that He is to create a steward on earth and they object, knowing full well the bloodshed and destruction we would wreak, the potential lies within each of us to become consciously godly, refined souls, contented and self-realized.

The second is the courtesy towards those for whom you are preparing the food, for you are helping to nourish and sustain them in this process of living life and awakening. Thus cooking can be considered a sacred act, a foundational alchemy for enabling humans to reach their full potential – after all,  'you are what you eat'. 

For years I had observed the meticulousness with which my Danish mother used to prepare our meals, organized, clean and tasty repasts of Danish, European and Iraqi dishes. I had participated in the abundant and loving chaos generated by my Arab paternal grandmother as she stuffed vegetables (Dolma) or made a delicious marga. 

After I was married I learned even more about Cooking with Presence from my mother-in-law. Khala-jan's Indian cuisine was the refined UP (Uttar Pradesh) variety, more Mughal and Persian influenced than the southern, more coco-nutty states. She would always approach her cooking in a state of wudu', incanting 'bismillahi 'r-rahmani 'r-rahim' over every  stir of the pot or addition of an ingredient, and would extract whole and powdered spices from her cupboard with the confidence and glee of a culinary sorcerer. Nothing would please her more than to have her food appreciated and lips licked with satiety, and indeed nothing still does so at the ripe old age of 83!

As an instinctive cook, I mostly allow the ingredients to 'speak' to me. They tell me what to do with them. Does anyone else converse with their food? I recall my grandmother good humouredly making kissing sounds at her pot of freshly made yoghurt, in the hopes of getting it to set well, always a gamble in cold weather. She'd then wrap it up in blankets and place it near the Aga or in a closet. The climate I live in now makes home-made yoghurt a foolproof enterprise. I don't so much rely on kiss-coaxing the lactobaccilli into a happy state of fermentation as on my housekeeper's wonderful trick of whipping in the starter with a whisk for a good few minutes before leaving it aside to set. This helps to break up the thick cream molecules of the fresh buffalo milk we get and reduces the creamy thickness of the crust, the mouthfeel of which I don't particularly like.

I love it when the experience of cooking becomes a meditative act. Surely this is how it is meant to be – not some daily drudgery. Losing yourself in the crunchy slicing of crisp Chinese Cabbage, inhaling the green scents of freshly chopped dill, coriander or mint, boiling chickpeas in anticipation of a pleasing softness suitable for hummous or chaat, working butter through flour to achieve a light pȃte sucrée as an honourable base for a  seasonal fruit tart. I love the comforting sauna humidity of a kitchen filled with the steamy exhalations of a simmering stock pot, the chocolaty aromas given off by Boston brownies when they are just done, the elevating perfumes of saffron or rosewater as they waft off rice or milk pudding. From the washing of the ingredients, to the prepping, to the actual cooking and finally the serving, it’s a delight to forget oneself in the very process. As I work with intention, ingredient and process, my self is set aside, a new mode of beingness arises that is alive, creative and fun. Sheer alchemy!

Naturally, it’s not always possible to have the luxury of conditions congenial to a nirvana ecstasy of aashpazi, but if that is how cooking is experienced on a regular basis, then one will never stray far from good results. Having cooked with presence, you can easily find your way back to that state,  like building a muscle and finding it ready to regain its tone after a little neglect. 

Now, after this purple paean to cooking, read the next blog for a simple soul-food recipe for an easy to prepare savoury snack that’s become awfully popular among my friends. You’ve been asking me for the recipe: check the next blogpost! Noosh-e Joon!

Glossary:

Dolma: vegetables like onions, bell peppers, tomatoes, onions, aubergines and young marrows excavated and stuffed with rice, herbs, meat, spices and other ingredients.

Marga: Iraqi word for stew or dish with gravy (MS Arabic: Marqah or maraq)

Wudu’: Islamic ritual ablution which consecrates one for prayer.

Bismillahi’r-rahmani’r-rahim: In the Name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful.

Hummous: ubiquitous chickpea paté, often made with the addition of tahini, sesame seed paste.

Chaat: Indo-Pak ‘salad’ of chickpeas, onions, tomatoes, coriander, green chillis and with dressing of tamarind and/or yoghurt.

Pȃte sucrée: Sweet pastry

Aashpazi: Persian for cooking.

Noosh-e Joon: Bon appétit.