A Vermicelli Potage!

The only home I had ever known, simple and yet very distinct in depicting Southern Indian Culture, was my grandma’s place.

Coming under the sway of its influence, I respectfully imbibed the ethos of Indian food and culture.

My grandma’s kitchen was an institution in itself. It was an entity in terms of its physicality of presence. More than that —it was the feel of it’s feels which exuded the essence of it’s existence in reflecting the realism : “Good food for Good thought 💭.” And, it’s the same philosophy that graces through my meal preparations, hitherto influencing me— most best. By that I mean, in its every sense, my ancestral home h’d made its way into my psyche, deeply embedding elemental manifestations of Indian traditions. All along and with renewed effects, those childhood experiences have shaped the manner,methodology and mixology of food preps in my current chamber of cooking, as well.

Furthermore, uncompromisingly, at least as much as I could see, every morning my grandma’s backyard would turn into a bustling scene of activity, centered around good many culinary and religious chores.

On one side of the sprawling lawns there was a thatched roof constructed to house cows 🐮 ( referred to as “Gau-Mata”) and beyond that, there were chambers exclusively turned into ceremonial structures. Several of the family’s festive feats were performed there.

Also herein, there were precise markings of the ☀️ sun’s location with the floodlit rays showing up thro’ the roof to brighten up the unceasing din of the Sanctum Santorum. Somewhere, deep down the recesses of the miniature street one could hear the temple bells 🔔 ringing at early awakenings.

In ways, the entire site offered a sacred space and a place of worship.

Also, on major festivals, priests would congregate around a stone structure called “Homum, “located adjacent to the holy Basil plant (Tulasi,) in the courtyard.

Adjacent to the courtyard were those horizontal timber structures offering a framing to the upright rows of pillars that stretched across the verandah. In that way, one end of the longhouse was used for worshiping and cooking , the middle and upper quarters for resting and lounging, and near the front entrance visitors greeted and seated in the veranda.

I still remember, the way our entire family of young and old would gather around food, using the long side alleyways to be led into the courtyard. Perhaps equally amazing were the coconut trees, creepers and scented herbs like curry leaves, henna plants and jasmine shrubs. In parallel, the other side of the alley, further along the stretch, there was a “well” built as a source of replenish-able water supply.

In ways, this is how, early on, my grandma’s place became a source of inspiration ,and I associated godliness in it’s simplicity. Over years, the building and the wood molds were left to weather. Our families had migrated to the city for better prospects. There was nobody there to look after the building. Everything dilapidated due to the seasonal changes. Slowly, new buyers encroached and that precious little ancestral property got sold out. The new owner completely renovated it with modern fixtures and amenities , resulting in a more durable building, but symbolically it held no significance to me. My grandma’s place was fashioning a new imagery in it’s entirety.

Honestly, up until then, those mud brick walls and stone archways with their pillar supports leading each step in procession to reach the main sanctuary was nothing short of a spiritual retreat for me. Laid out in a simple path of minimalistic living yet profound enough to stir the soul and probably such an ambiance was enough to replace the word “boredom ,” with exuberance embodied in it’s core. Thus everything cooked in such an ambiance was more of an operative incarnation of bliss.Accordingly then, with the several subliminal outpourings,wholesomely nourished, by a simple vermicelli pottage was like feasting on an ambrosia from the otherworldly supernal folds. Cooked over slow fire 🔥 in an earthenware, staged over the hearthstone and built to perfection, my grandma’s porridge along with it’s aromatic flavors thereto the whole milk , raisins, cardamoms, ghee and jaggery ; all added up to that heavenly taste, or as I had seen and seemed to have believed —I was bettered off of it, by it, for the enriching effects of it .

Admittedly, such an upbringing made me perceive food as some “ cosmic moral code” and I learnt to enshrine it as divinity.

At this point, do not, my reader fear, worry nor flee if you aren’t able to relate to the rhetorics of these verses. Seemingly the recipe in this post might be pointing to the otherworldly haven of hope and health. Yes, to that —I am a great eater of belief :)

So, to begin with, here’s a Sanskrit verse that will serve to count blessings on purpose, beforehand—if you WILL !

दीपो भक्षयते ध्वान्तं कज्जलं च प्रसूयते |

यदन्नं भक्षयेन्नित्यं जायते तादृशी प्रजा ||

dIpo bhakShayate dhvAntam kajjalam cha prasUyate |

yadannam bhakShayennityam jAyate tAdRishI prajA ||

Lamp eats darkness and produces [black] soot!

What food (quality) [one] eats daily, so will [one] produce.

Vermicelli primarily known to be a staple food, best consumed at any auspicious celebration, provides a deep satiation, if ever, one chooses to follow along the path of simple bare necessities.

The following is a vermicelli pudding that is welcoming enough to both —an old friend or a visiting dignitary, especially when they are both set out for soul stirring recleave. Promise, it’s a world worth descending. Surely, this will not satisfy the unruly rouge!

Moreover, supplicating this food with a prayer invocation would add to the effect for sure. So please freely indulge ! Be my guest !

A Vermicelli Potage

( Indian name : PAYASAM )

Ingredients

Vermicelli 100 grams( 1/2 cup)

Whole Milk 4 and a 1/2 cups

Jaggery 1 cup

Cashew nuts 2 tsps

Raisins 1 tsp

Cardamoms 4 pods - powdered

Ghee /Clarified Butter 3-4 tsps

Method of Preparation:

Roast the vermicelli in ghee until it turns light brown. Boil the whole milk until it turns to a thick creamy consistency, and then add vermicelli to it. Keep stirring the porridge until the vermicelli gets transparent. Add powdered cardamom to the porridge while stirring it. Pour the jaggery powder into it and allow it to simmer for another 3- 5 minutes

Tip: Add additional condensed milk to adjust the consistency

There are various ways of experiencing Indian culture. One sure way is to dig into the culinary roots and savor those traditional recipes. In many Indian homes and temples, food is offered to the various deities as “Naivaidyam,” during prayers. This is accompanied by the chanting of verses called Mantraa’s…

Here’s a food mantra recited as an invocation before eating food .

ब्रह्मार्पणं ब्रह्म हविर्ब्रह्माग्नौ ब्रह्मणा हुतम् |
ब्रह्मैव तेन गन्तव्यं ब्रह्मकर्मसमाधिना || 24||

Brahmārpañam Brahma Havir BrahmāgnauBrahmañāhutaṃ,

Brahmaiva Tena Gantavyam BrahmakarmāSamādhinah.

AhamVaishvānaroBhutvā PrāñināmḌehamāshritaha,

PrāñāpānaSamāyuktah PachāmyannamChaturvidham

BG 4.24: Chapter 4, Verse 24 – Bhagavad Gita, The Song of God ...

That, then was the recipe for everlasting joy but, pursuers discretion is advised as results may vary as per the course it takes inwards.

If it illumines the face then readily embrace it please! Else assume that it’s a warning to arm yourself and restrain from indulging in it. Chances are that this food could turn into the most dangerous concoction in terms of the choice effects it c’d have on varying body compositions.

Lastly , to say the least , this recipe was not intended to cast any spells.

Bye bye then and I shall sign off this entry with a short muse from my poetry journal !

BREAD AND BUTTER.....

CHURNED

As speeches spoken

Where sun has awoken

Earmarked to be—a feast in fest!

Often laden; mildly latent,

Bestially to fit in an idle banquet

For the ingredients are woven,

As charms put in an oven,

As a byplay —maybe— for the newly bread

Ethereally unearthly, supernally sprightly,

Yet shining thro' senses to share it's spread

Whenever, wherever, unconsciously woven,

Bidden in raptures of domestic zest

In miracles ungotten, as a treat so begotten

Calling to be taken as some synodic test

For as has been said : it has been there,

In decadence ,and as in delectables, to serve sweetly it’s every guest

And so eschewed as to the visible as fully shared

In all that's mixed and brought up to bear

And Just as one of the mankind's happinesses—simply spreading and brightly clear

For also to bring home that -herbage to deck;

Along with it's wholesome nature to be layered

And in it’s greatest form of greeting grits - graciously served to be righteously there

Thusly, a providence of roti-bread with butter, bonhomously made , for many a years

O! for me to mention, what's butter when it's not churned, into pure " ghee," - so crystal clear!

Of that feisty faire

Festooning in it's own culinary cares;

For it’s truly meningeal, and cogently congenial,

Conquering it's own begotten dares-

and for me, as it is and as 'twere-

so righteously declared

It’s this ancestral cooking birthing itself,

As prayers answered somehow, somewhere!

© February 17th, 2022 & Madhu Goteti