COOKING | FOOD
Moringa-Flower Curry
A Spring Recipe
It was late spring, almost summer, and the drumstick tree in the courtyard was flowering. If you are sensitive to smells and fragrances, aromas, and scents, their subtle but inescapable aroma would drive you little nuts. A little high.
I generally don’t need much to get me high. Life does that.
We had all gathered together, in my brother-in-law’s ancestral house, in Chennai, to participate in the nuptials of his niece. We were from different parts of the country and the world, and we had a lot of catching up to do. I also remember that I would break off my conversation from time to time, and sniff the air, with, probably, an unnatural gleam in my eye. I don’t think that was very reassuring to people, some of whom I was meeting for the very first time. It did not help that I am moon mad, and it was a full moon night. I could see her from the open window.
The moon was riding high in the sky, I remember, lambent and lustrous. It was a late spring night, but the trees that wreathed the house in a curtain of green protected it from excess heat and humidity.
“I love drumstick flowers,” I announced: and the words fell into the sort of silence that occasionally falls among very talkative groups of people. “Alright,” said the beautiful professional dancer, one of my brother-in-law’s cousins, seated among us, “let’s go get some.” Willingly, all the able-bodied men and women sallied out. Some, to watch, some, to work, and some to blow a cloud.
My brother-in-law’s mother got us a large white sheet, which we spread just beneath the tree. Amidst gales of laughter and sudden outbursts of giggles, some of us began to shake the tree, to get the flowers down.
Others got the long stick, with a blade at the end, with which we pluck mangoes, and began to delicately cut the stalks so that the flowers would fall into the sheet. In no time, the sheet was full of the flowers, pea-like, white, and dainty.
We sat down on the grass, separated the stalks from the flowers, got rid of the tiny ants clambering over them, and at the end, we got two or three handfuls of the flowers. We gathered them up and took them into the kitchen. They were then washed thoroughly, but gently. Like most things in nature, they don’t submit to ill-treatment.
In a wide-bottomed vessel, we put in a large scooped ladleful of freshly grated coconut, two pods of crushed garlic, a pinch of powdered cumin seeds, a handful of crushed baby shallots, and two stalks of curry leaves just plucked from the garden.
To that, we added half a teaspoon of salt and four tablespoons of coconut oil. Gently and reverently, we pour in the washed flowers, mix them with our fingers, not with spoons or ladles. Gently, gently, gently. We keep it aside for half an hour, to let the flavors, blend and bleed into each other.
In a wok, we pour in a teaspoonful of coconut oil. Sputter some mustard seeds, when it warms up. Lower the flame, pour in the mixture we’ve made. Cover. Cook. Keep our noses handy. Since there is no water in the mixture except that which bled out, it burns quickly. Don’t stir too many times.
In about 15 minutes, this bit of ambrosia, rich in vitamins A, B, and C, calcium, potassium, iron, and amino acids is ready to be consumed.
Facts: Every part of the drumstick tree, or the Moringa Oleifera, including its roots can be consumed. It is also called the horseradish tree because its roots taste like horseradish. The tree is known for its healing and medicinal properties, too.
©️ 2021 Suma Narayan. All Rights Reserved.
Shoutout to pocket dessert for this beautiful tapestry of images, with unexpected, razor sharp vignettes, poignant and gutting flashbacks and calm placid lakes beneath which lurk shadowy monsters:
