Yesterday was just one of those days where I was endlessly hungry. I personally would like to blame the weather (my favourite victim for anything that goes wrong in my life. It's almost always the weather's fault). I returned home almost starving.
Me: "Mama, what's for dinner??"
Mama: "Chicken"
Ma: "Yum!"
Mama: "Roasted chicken"
Me: "Great!"
Mama: "With vegetables..." - and she continued to describe her masterpiece of the evening, making me hungrier.
The timer goes off, the plates come out, and the beautiful roasted chicken with vegetables swimming in some yummy sauce is placed in the middle of the table, next to the mashed potatoes (what? You thought we'd have JUST chicken with veggies for dinner? Ppphhttt. Please. That's a disgrace to our people!). Dinner was served. I grabbed my fork, greedily digged in and gobbled a large portion of my meal (very un-lady like, I know; but hey, I was at home - and who is ever lady like at home?!). The food was delicious, until something started to happen. Something that was not so - delicious. I couldn't figure out what it was right away, so I had a few more chews. I then realized what was happening. My taste buds were dying!! Why? Because the chicken was so spicy! And I don't mean spicy as in it has some flavor in it, or spicy as in it tingles your taste buds. NO! Its spicy as in your tongue dies, comes back to life and then dies again! Spicy as in your tummy starts making noises similar to a volcano erupting. THAT SPICY!
Me: "Ma...its...spicy"
Mama: "Spicy?"
Me: (I nod my head)
Mama: "Really?"
Me: (I nod my head with my eyes wide open to signify it is VERY spicy)
Mama: "Must be the new chilli powder"
Ma: "Huh?"
Mama: "Kashmiri"
Me: "Kashmiri chilli powder?"
Mama: "New kashmiri chilli powder. Eat it with the mashed potatoes"
Me: "But that has pepper too. It's all...just...hot"
My mom and I continue to discuss the kashmiri chilli powder, its obvious spiciness, evolution of the otherwise bland mashed potatoes and how the price of vegetables are increasing in the country (don't ask me how we got there). I consoled myself as I blamed the kashmiri chilli powder for finding its way into our house, until the chilli powder started to show different shades of red in my mother.
Mama: "You don't cook"
Me: "Huh?" (wondering why we are discussing this now, but knowing where it will end)
Mama: "Why don't you cook?"
Me: "Ummm..."
Mama: "How will you get married?" (told you I knew where this would end)
Me: "If I can't cook I won't get married?"
Mama: "Maybe he likes chicken..."
Me: "What?" (Perhaps I should start a new blog titled as thoughts of a Sri Lankan Mother!)
Mama: "And how many days I am telling you to clean your cupboard? You're not listening (to me) now, ah?"
Me: "WHAT?!"
That's when it hit me. The purchasing of a new chilli powder (that is perhaps one of the most spiciest ever) must have happened rather innocently. However, using it to cook a yummy meal for a very hungry me who has an extremely sensitive tummy against spicy food (its a shame to my people. I almost had my citizenship revoked for it) was the subconscious thinking of the secret ninja inside my chubby mommy. I have been asked over and over to clean my cupboard (I am gifted at easily finding my things in a messy pile, therefore don't really take the time to organize it. This is just at home though. At work everything is in its place. Must be split personality or something) but because I have been busy doing other things (watching TV, reading the magazine I have already read - the usual important stuff) I kept putting this chore off. Highly organized chubby mommy had enough, and without knowing it she had tried to finish me off (okay, that's it. No more trying to sit through Indian tv dramas for me. Clearly it's getting into my thinking process). Luckily, I survived the (subconscious) attack.
I still love her cooking and I have learnt my lesson. My cupboard is never going to be unorganized again (for the next month or two at least)!
I love you Mama! <3
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