Christmas and New Year offer gastronomic delights to tantalise the fussiest taste buds. An array of the fudgiest brownies and moist fillings in brandy-soaked plum cakes, blueberry tarts and pies juxtaposed between mince buns, bagels and warm croissants usher in 2015 with pealing church bells and merriment. Coastal Kerala is steadily shedding its image of sedate charm for the Malayali is quite game now for the bright lights, pubs and shaking a leg at parties spilling into the wee hours.
Celebrations that can be called pan-Indian warm our hearths. Jesus of Nazareth has enveloped all of us into his fold perhaps because now we see all religions join in the gaiety and spread goodwill. Perhaps, it’s the mistletoe and the holly that did the magic but there is definitely a change—houses of Hindus and Muslims too are spring cleaned, a bright star hung on the rooftop, a gaily decorated Christmas tree placed in living rooms and gifts exchanged with loved ones. If only goodwill and peace could cleanse our hearts and permeate through this troubled world!
Watching with wonder the changes each year brings, I was reminded of a different Christmas Eve when rambling along the national highway in Thrissur where I worked as principal, Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan school in Poochatty, I was invited to a feast. The long line of trucks with interstate consignments of two-, three- and four-wheelers bearing marble, granite, textiles, onions, sugar and foodgrains for markets in Kerala and Dakshin Karnataka invariably take this route. The drivers take a breather beneath swaying palms and cook their favourite menus.
The most appetising aromas wafted in the air. Seeing my bemused look, one of them invited, “Behenji, hamara khana khaoge?” Needing no second invitation, I accepted the proffered plate—white clay with a dark blue rim—and watched in astonishment as the men huddled around this open kitchen, ladled greens and chicken with hot rotis. The first tentative morsel and I realised these simple rustic folk had magic in their fingers. I told them so and they grinned sheepishly. I had to ask them, “Kisne sikhaya aapko?” (Who taught you to cook?) “Kisine nahin, bas ma, dadi ko banate dekha gaon mein” (Nobody. We just learnt by watching our ma and grandma cook) was the matter-of-fact reply.
The readily shared recipe goes: Heat two packets of Amul butter, add small onions quartered, a few beans, whole small carrots and potatoes, two tomatoes, two young chickens, a handful of mint and coriander leaves, salt, turmeric, slit chillies, chilli powder and garam masala powder. Cover and cook till done and serve with love.
Francis, the trucker from Nagaland, passed around the cake he’d bought in a bakery in Allepey. A perfect Christmassy dinner shared by so many—rich with adventure, goodwill and love that transcended boundaries.
I bid my roadside friends farewell with a promise to meet again someday.
This Christmas Eve, strangely, my dinner tasted insipid and ordinary. Or was it the memory of a meal under a starry night in the open?