‘Comfort in Sameness’
Response to a Prompt from Lucy Dan 蛋小姐 (she/her/她)
On some days, nothing seems to work. None of the fail-safe plans and mantras, formulas and remedies that are part of our survival kit, help. Those are the times I return to ‘sameness’: those tried and tested comforts that gently and subliminally offer safe passage into a better frame of mind. These are my ‘lenders of last resort’. Broadly categorized into three parts, they are comfort food, comfort books and movies, and comfort music. All of these are old, the same, unchanged. And because they are unchanged, on some days, my mind clings to them, like a drowning person would, to a piece of wood, a submerged tree, or a boulder, amidst swirling waters.
Some days, they are the only things that can stop my anxiety fueled descent into madness.
There are three dishes that help me. They are the same. Made in the same way. Two of them, I make. The third needs a visit to a nearby restaurant.
Food:1
The first, is an omelette, made just so.
The bread and the butter should be at room temperature. Use butter, not something that masquerades as it.
First, a short prayer. Then, finely chop and mince purple or dark-pink-skinned onions. Use the short, thin and spicy green chillies. Make sure they are dark green: even those with the faintest shade of light green, or yellow should be abandoned immediately. Cut them, with a very sharp knife, into thin rounds. When you make that first cut, the sharpness of the aroma should inform your nostrils of the pungency and the freshness. That first cut should bring out the first seed. Cut up one green chilly into tiny, narrow, happy rounds. Finely mince a small piece of ginger. Cut one fresh tomato into small pieces, and keep aside. Please remember, some things are not to be mixed, initially: they need to get to know each other at a later date.
Into a wok, slide in one tablespoon of home-made ghee. Lower the flame. Ghee is hot- tempered and flames quickly. When it melts, pour in the onions, ginger and green chillies, and a pinch of salt. Stir occasionally, just to remind them that you haven’t forgotten them. Beat up the eggs to within an inch of their lives. When the onions and ginger pieces have browned, and the green chillies look darkly at you, pour in the eggs, lower the flame, give everything a quick stir, and cover the whole thing up, so that this marital orgy remains private. After two minutes, switch off the gas, but let the cover discreetly remain. In the meantime, butter your slices of bread and keep your tomato ketchup ready if you feel inclined in that direction.
Remove the lid, quickly, without allowing even one drop of condensation to fall on the omelette. What does it smell like? Does the aroma make you feel better already? That’s good.
Take your buttered bread slices, your omelette and yourself. to whichever your favourite space is, in the house. Eat your food slowly and contemplatively. And gratefully. Try, if possible to blot out all thought and all people. If you can’t do that, switch on your favourite movie, or read your favourite book while eating. Keep your phone far, far away from you. Don’t look at it even once in the course of your meal. That one glance is the surest way to indigestion.
Food:2
Cook fine long grained rice. Drain out the starchy water with a well-fitting lid and clips to hold it in place, or use the Ikea rice cooker with its built-in clips and drain holes. Open up and raise the lid after five minutes. Does the steam rush out? Can you smell it? Does it smell like fresh-cooked rice?
Don’t wait. You don’t need to. Have your lentil curry ready according to this recipe:
Use a flat ladle to ladle the rice onto a plate. Put in a teaspoon full of home-made ghee. Watch it melt into the rice, and penetrate every space within it. Pour in a ladleful of hot, steaming lentil curry. On the side of the plate, deposit one teaspoon of your favourite mixed-vegetable, or mango, pickle. Take yourself and your plate of ambrosia to a place at home free of people and phones. Tell yourself ‘life is good’, as though you believe it. Eat.
Life is good.
Food : 3
I drop into my favourite restaurant, usually, ‘Aromas’ when not many people are present. I sit in a corner, with my back to the wall. I order their specialty, cinnamon-apple tea: and roast chicken, mashed potatoes and greens. When they bring these pieces and drops of paradise to the table, I drink, and I dig in. I take a long time over it. I am in no hurry. Whoever, or whatever is waiting, can continue waiting. I shut out thought and become one feeling organism with taste buds, eyes, nostrils, ears and fingers.
Sameness.
Bliss.
Catharsis.
©️ 2022 Suma Narayan. All Rights Reserved.
This is an answer to the prompt by Lucy Dan 蛋小姐 (she/her/她) about how sameness creates comfort:
