Curri-kar sans a pinch of salt

Last evening after many a moons, I happen to be outside the once popular ‘A-Lanka’ theatre, the depilated structure was flanked on both sides with innumerable eatery stalls. Bustling with vivacity, this wayward food land  pampered the taste buds of one and sundry   with hot, spicy, cheap desi and Chinese concoctions. To my pleasant surprise the shutters of  Curri-kar kiosk were up. Man, was I glad? I was not certain, but there he was, busy churning his cauldrons and adding his magic potions. 

There were rumours afloat the potions were dark, rare and unique moreover it was a close guarded secret. The aroma was floating, raising speculations, exclamations and supposition on his culinary skills. I inched my way towards the kiosk. He looked pretty aged and haggard. He threw a glance at me, and nodded midway, which I took as an acknowledgment of my trivial existence on this earth. He was aware I was an unapologetic, pathetic cook. I intentionally ignored the silent judgement. So where have you been I queried. 

He was furiously  yet strategically whipping up something in an extremely fragile bowl. Oh, I had a brief stint out of station, you know dealing with surgical lights...he switched off the conversation as his cell phone demanded his attention. Get this straight he thundered I’ll not entertain any more fools.  I’m back and this time it’s serious business. He clamped the phone down and instead picked up a mango and examined it gravely, as if he happen to notice it for the very first time.

 It’s a Mussarat or Monserrate de Bardez, he notified generally and not me in particular. He inhaled the freshly plucked pick and meditated on it, as if his entire career was dependent on it- Jam it or pickle it? Was the million dollar question.  He was chanting to himself, Jam or pickle? I was neither interested in the jam or the pickle. I nudged him out of his trance, tell me what do you have in fish items. Oh well, the usual stuff, but I suggest and guarantee, you’ll relish this  Japanese thread fin bream, you know Amcho Goankaracho Rano, it’s perfect for your ‘Health’. Trust me, he implored. But, I for one was not certain was it a plea or a command. 

I looked at the platter, while the contents sizzled. Try this chutney he suggested it’s spicy although the coconut is bit ‘Khautela’, nonetheless you’ll enjoy the tang. You see, he confessed we have many a coconuts and bondes piled in the Move-in Godowns. Such cases are inevitable. I nodded sympathetically and needled the fish on the platter. Az Goankar he continued gravely melpak khatin,   difficult I tell you, in fact  next to impossible he emphasized, but Goankarpon is packaged here. He looked around suspiciously, a la Sherlock Holmes, content there was no plausible perils, he flourished a packet from no-where. He grinned and looked at his discovery with a mixture of pride and conceit. Here you are, he exclaimed - It’s Jai masala, the secret ingredient that made Currikars dishes world famous. Add it, and perpetually Dhaval it, you got to stir  well, he concluded and placed the steaming dish under my nose.