Coconut milk in my veins

No matter how Indian my speech patterns become, how much Himesh is on my phone and how many bahenchods pepper my vocabulary, I will still see, feel and hear through a Sri Lankan body. At this moment, my Sri Lankan body misses Coconut Milk (CM).

CM is used in almost every dish in Sri Lanka. It forms the liquid base to everything and happily absorbs tonnes of spices to produce a flavourful gravy with an almost chewy texture. It also gives spicy food a sweet kick that is bliss to a Lankan and bilge inducing to any other Sub-conti. Here my cooking knowledge ends and my yearning begins. There is no CM based curry or food in Singapore. Nothing good atleast. The locals use CM in laksa (noodles drowning in curry amongst jagged rocks of meat and vegetables) and in malay cuisine (most notably in nasi lemak, rice boiled in coocnut milk with a hunk of meat and an egg). The problem is that I despise noodles in any form and malay cooks are so lazy that they do not fry the egg that comes with nasi lemak. I will not pay near Rs. 200 for rice accompanied by a single piece of meat. All my Tamil ancestors will simultaneously turn into landmines under the soil of Jaffna and Batticaloa.

The white people in my audience will ask me to try Indian food then. Indian food, though with many subtle and overt charms, does not satisfy one's craving for CM food. The Indian food in Singapore comes from basically two regions North and South India. You get tandooried North Indian food or rice-and-dahl South Indian staples. Yes, its very tasty. North Indian food sends you to heaven and South Indian food could be the world's tastiest health food. But there's no CM anyway, and the albatross-rare CM curry you come across will be bland and mild. This all adds to pretty considerable culinary frustration. In my desperation, I asked my mother to send me her famous prawn curry, made (ofcourse) in rich CM curry. The thing spoilt during the night flight. After spending over half an hour wondering how much spoilt prawn could kill you, I tipped the contents into the waste paper basket. The last CM-curry-slathered prawn held on for a short second before meeting its doom. My stomach shook like a widow in mourning.

Why do I like CM so much you wonder (thank you for making it this far). Well, only CM food fills my belly to satisfaction. The gravy itself is a meal. After a lunch of rice, CM chicken curry, vegetables and pappadam ("papad" be damned) followed by a dessert of ice cream and curd, you are full to the brim. You are ready to pass out for your evening nap, serenaded to sleep by the "tak-a-ta-tak" of your ceiling fan.

Damn it, come to think of it, I miss ceiling fans too.