Monsoon Season

It rains every day now. Such weather invites introspection, even though I still choose to brave the elements when it is inconvenient; something about going out to "forage" in the real world feels much more rewarding than falling back on delivery service. My sopping shoes bear the brunt of the consequences.

Pettah in the rain.

I no longer eat my Lanka oats every day. They still taste great every once in a while, but I have opened myself up to a world of soya, yam and even jackfruit seed porridges. I am amazed by all that I can accomplish with the single pot that serves as my pressure cooker, and the challenge to maintain a zero waste kitchen has made for some particularly creative discoveries. I will admit that a chance purchase of a used food processor from a flea market stall has enhanced my capabilities as well – being able to make smoothies out of the exemplary fruit that passes through my kitchen is a luxury I did not expect to come my way so soon.

I did not intend for this platform to become a food blog, but given the amount of time I spend cooking, I suppose it is an inevitability. I go out to curry shops to try various vegetables in their final form, and then I go home and attempt my own spin. I've noticed that a lot of Sri Lankan curries are actually pretty mild; it is the addition of seeni sambol or lunumiris that add the spicy dimension I so crave in every bite. Recently, I was treated to some homemade moju, which is typically made of eggplant (aka brinjal), crushed dates, dried red pepper and tamarind. The version I was given has carrots and whole shallots. I now add this salty delight to every lunch plate. I think I'm a decent cook, but if you are lucky enough to taste the masterpieces born from Sri Lankan aunties, you would also find yourself doubting your skills.

My recent discoveries include the custard-like eggfruit (locally, "lavulu"), unripe jackfruit (delicious while ripe also, but which functions as a meat substitute when harvested a little early), and my new favorite ingredient: the illusive purple yam. Any time I mention cooking with this ingredient, people tell me it's "so healthy”. Personally, I think I'm partial to it because it's purple. I like a colorful plate.

Purple yam porridge with jackfruit on top.

It was previously an afterthought, but I now always make sure to have a fresh, green mallum (Sri Lankan salad) to top my hot curries with. I go to the vegetable market and smell the leafy offerings until a scent catches my fancy; thus far, I've made mallums out of gotu kola, asamadogam and beet root. Based on my earlier explanation, would it shock you that beets are also one of my favorite ingredients?

Unfortunately, I am not a rice expert. I do not claim to have a magic touch to its texture, and there are lots of varieties here that require different cooking approaches. I made a nice pudding out of some leftover red rice, but I imagine it is the coconut milk and the syrup that enhanced this breakfast treat, not my mastery of batapolal. It is quite interesting to live in a place where people make assumptions about you based on your chosen rice variety; I presume each family is raised with its favorites. I am not from a rice home, and therefore I think the staple grain remains my biggest weakness. As a replacement, I make my own pol roti or rice-flour dosa (the latter of which, I regret, never comes out quite right), and recently I've embraced the kurakkan (finger millet) grain for bread and noodles. One of my oatmeal replacements that I am particularly proud of is the PBB&J.

*Note: peanut butter is expensive here – however, now that I've learned to boil peanuts and possess a food processor, the near future when my peanut powder runs out does not feel so scary.

Sri Lankan PBB&J

Ingredients:

• Toast (fried on stovetop with coconut oil)

• 2 sweet bananas, sliced and lightly fried

• Peanut butter

• Shredded coconut (mixed with the peanut butter)

• Cinnamon

• Siracha

• Ambarella chutney

I hope this recipe is self explanatory, but basically, make yourself a spicy breakfast sandwich with your desired ratios. The siracha with the peanut butter effectively turns it into a satay-style peanut sauce, and the chutney adds the perfect balance of sweetness to make a mouth-watering "peanut butter and jelly."

A little too refined for PB&J? My other seasonal version of this breakfast sandwich uses a blend of pumpkin and beet curries. Pumpkin is actually one of the most affordable ingredients you can use here, so despite the lack of available nutmeg, it's not too hard to channel "pumpkin spice" just in time for October. I'll link others' pumpkin and beet curry recipes.

It's funny – avocados are widely available, and back home, avocado toast used to be a staple meal. However, I am really bad at timing their ripeness due to the different strain of the crop here, so pumpkin paste has become a nice, sweet alternative. I am fascinated by these regional differentials and am legitimately considering a pivot to food sciences.

Now that we've covered food, I will do some quick emotional service for my relatives: I am still doing well. I've studied a lot of languages in my life, and despite now being able to read Sinhala script, there is a folksiness to the practical version I desire to employ which slows my pace of acquisition, not to mention the prevalance of "Singlish" nullifying some of my efforts (putting it another way, Sinhala has many English loan words, identified as loan words by the placement of "e-kah" after the noun, e.g. "car e-kah"). Still, I give it my best shot.

I tried Kandyan dance, which left me sore for a week. I visited a wetland, where I was able to photograph some indigenous birds. I made a trip south to Mirissa, and properly dove in the Indian ocean. I visited some Buddhist institutions as well as some Hindu temples on Diwali. I frequent contemporary art galleries, and try pastries at various cake shops. I try to give myself a few cultural goals every week so that I can avoid sinking into the monotony of the rains.

October is usually a low point – it's a long month and the weather is changing, although not by my typical red-orange arboral signals back in the US. I do spend a lot of evenings lighting my incense, drinking my tea and staring out the window, pondering the humidity I not only tolerate but single-handedly generate. Still, each day is a new opportunity, and I make sure to rework my mindset if I ever get lonely. I do this mainly by asking myself, "But how cool is it to be here?"

-Lydia