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Indian Cuisine
Author(s): Ramabai Espinet
Source: The Massachusetts Review, Vol. 35, No. 3/4 (Autumn, 1994), pp. 563-573
Published by: The Massachusetts Review, Inc.
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/25090562
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Ramabai Espinet
Indian Cuisine
it A nd since that night the taste of fruit cocktail
-/iLhas always
magical been to me, far-off, what
ever that means. It was
far from everything around. I still
get it sometimes. I open a cheap can of the overcooked,
overwhelming."
It had started with idle talk about giving each other Christ
mas gifts?like new lovers, I guess, between no
wavering
gifts and a bounty. One Christmas he had got no gifts.
"I can't remember why now. I was about seven and all I
remember is my mother
cooking ordinary sitting food and
down in the kitchen
and crying. Something must have
happened but I don't know what." He smiled, and I looked
into those crinkled brown eyes that must have refused pain
over and over until it had no place there any more. Some
times I thought I had never known anyone so cold. Strange
too how much I loved his coldness.
Me too, I thought tomyself, but did not say it. One Christ
mas I had got no gifts either. It was odd, my at my
being
cousins for Christmas. (Did something happen too? I don't
know.) Being there was wonderful and exciting and after
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The Massachusetts Review
sink. There was room for four toothbrushes, one for each
child. Santa Claus? My mother was offhand about it. "He
lef yuh out? He didn't come by Uncle Samuel to give yuh
no presents? Well," she chuckled dryly, "Rudolph must be
get confused with all the different directions. Anyhow you
know all about Santa Claus. Yuh eh find yuh too big for
all a dat now? Go outside and play."
Much later I found out that the other presents Santa had
brought were really cheap plastic dolls that she had sewn
clothes for, night after night, when we were asleep and he
was out. The little truck my brother got cost a dollar or
two. I was already too big for everything she could make.
And she had got nothing from Santa either. Strange, isn't
it, that what stops me from telling him about all of this
is not thefact of poverty, nor uncertainty, worry or any of
those things, but the familiar home-names of everybody?
Muddie, Da-Da, Papa, Sonia. Just calling those names
would be to expose myself completely. It stayed at fruit
cocktail privilege.
It's possible that my only real privilege was that our house
was packed with old books. And that made me a reader of
everything: Dr. Chase's Almanac, Alistair Cooke, my
mother's cookbooks, my father's pornography. The house
had a bookcase with some leather-look volumes, bound
copies of theReader's Digest condensed series, The Reader's
565
The Massachusetts Review
566
Indian Cuisine
Once Sonia was staying at our house for a while when her
parents were on long-leave in England. When we filled out
the forms at school for the Government examination the
teacher asked where our fathers worked. Uncle Samuel
worked at the Ministry of Agriculture so Sonia wrote
"labourer" on her card. My father worked at a big super
market in the downtown area of San Fernando. He was
Sometimes the flour itself was scarce. One day there wasn't
even flour. Our walked the two miles to the
grandfather
Chinese shop, took a trust of some flour and walked home
567
The Massachusetts Review
I got tired of cooking the same things over and over. And
Muddie had forgotten about a thin blue hard-covered West
Indian cookbook hidden in one of the cardboard boxes. The
first day Imade coo-coo with ochroes and cornmeal out of
the cookbook I got a terrible boof and nobody would touch
it. They said it looked stiff and slimy and that the stewed
saltfish was too oily. Late as it was, Muddie had to quickly
make up some sada roti and butter for them. It was Da
Da who saved me. His gambling job finished late that night
and he came home hungry. He ate and ate and ate. Muddie
must have been watching him suspiciously I heard because
the hiss in her voice, "Yuh know bout coo-coo? Where yuh
know bout coo-coo?" I was still doing home-work on the
practise.
After that nothing was too hard for me, after all I had
swallowed a cookbook. Paimie or blue drawers,
already
pastelles, callaloo, and shark-fin soup mixed up with dhal
and rice and fried bodi with pigtail, dumplings and stew
beef, macaroni with stewed dhal and tomato chokha.
pie
570
Indian Cuisine
appetizer
SOUP
572
Indian Cuisine
vegetables/side dishes
Seasoned Rice
Braised Cassava with Tomatoes 8cPeppers
Anansi Roast Plantain
Sauteed Debe Pumpkin
Fresh Pomme Cythere Chutney
SALAD
DESSERT
573