And so it is once again the season of oil-oozing sweetness, the season of alluring cooking smells that fattens you just by inhaling the fumes, super oily skin(due to the excess of oil consumption) and the smells of cinnamon, cardamom and coconut oil wafting from the kitchen areas. It's the season for all sorts of cuts and burns, hand burns, finger burns, leg burns, even butt burns(try bending over near an oven door which had just delivered a steaming cake, wearing a teeny tiny short yourself) It's the season when Mother Dearest fusses about near the stoves steaming this, frying that and Father Dearest ditches his customary sarong and gets in to his sexy work shorts (his words, not mine) and bustles about the place mending this, fixing that, making frequent trips to the stores to get vanilla, butter, this and that (Mother Dearest's orders of course) sawing timber(what the hell for????) and occasionally poking his head around the kitchen department in hope of that occasional offer of little morsels of food tasting (he's sort of our own personal guinea pig. And he loves being that!) Over all, it's just the season of mellow oil and sweet-fullness that shall leave you hating sweets for months afterwards!
Well,Avrudu is everywhere. Dropped in at the super market to get some this and that's (since Mother dearest swore not to set foot outside the house until after the whole new year ordeal was over) and was surprised to see the length of the liquor queue at the store(which surpassed all the counter queues put together in the whole super market). Well it seems like we Sri Lankans have turned ourselves in to a jolly nation since of late. We drink on New year, we drink on Christmas, we drink on birthdays, we drink after exams, we drink on our weddings, we drink on other people's weddings, we drink because we found a job, we drink because we lost the job, we drink because someone died, we drink because someone was born, we drink because we won the match, we drink because we lost the match and then we get together our friends and we drink just because. What's the difference? We Lankans are just on the lookout to "put a party" and "put" a drink. Well, good for us I'd say. I guess livers and brain cells shall have to be imported from China before long at the rate that we are going.
And then this group of elderly ladies arrived in chintz cloths and colorful blouses, armed with a large drum ready for some Avrudu drum beating inside the super market. They were all wearing matching plastic bangles, bead necklaces and flowers in their hair, true colorful Lankan style. Pretty. That got me smiling and made me forget about the complications of importing human organs in to the country in order to save the nation :)
Although the excessive food season is a little too much for the digestive system to tolerate, the making of all that abundance has always been fun. I like the making of kokis, that crunchy, oily not-so-sweet, flour based, deep-fried delicacy which I actually don't mind eating much. I like dipping my favorite butterfly mold in the batter and lowering it in to the hot oil and listening to the hissing of the oil and watching the batter covered mold disappear amidst millions of golden oil bubbles. I love slipping off the battered butterfly slowly and carefully off the mold and on to the oil, letting it float away carefree and bubbly, turning a beautiful golden color. The butterfly for me is a symbol of hope. And new year always brings hope. However, it does become a tad bit disturbing when it comes to the part where you eat the butterfly, wings and all later on. So we shall not think about it now.
The kokis and the milk toffees done, only the cake and the pudding shall be my responsibilities tomorrow. Rest shall be Mother Dearest's responsibilities. She managed to get her finger cut from a condensed milk tin today by the way, whereas I managed to escape without any injuries (except for a slightly burnt finger tip acquired by trying to dip a finger in to a boiling pot of milk toffee mixture,[greed, tsk tsk!] Ouch!) which is surprising because I'm the accident prone one who is always in a hurry and barging in to things, toppling over stuff and emerging out of the kitchens with bandaged hands and usually howling.
Our domestic aid has gone home for Avrudu. Even if she was here all these would be done with our own hands. It's almost like a yearly ritual when all the sweet meats are prepared, houses cleaned, sheets and blinds changed. Without that an year would not be complete. I love the ambiance, all the activity, the hustle and bustle, the sweat, the heat of the season trickling down our backs as we grind and fry and sprinkle. We smile. It is such a joy.
Since the whole cleaning fiasco has been taken care of earlier on, theres not much left to be done. I take absolutely no part in these cleaning expeditions(unless I develop a sudden desire for sneezing myself off to my death bed) due to my fatal allergy to house dust. The dust-busting duo(namely the servant and the Mother Dearest accompanied by brooms, brushes and our trusty, awfully noisy vacuum cleaner) explored corners in the house that they have never seen before and many spiders lost their much cherished homes because of this cleaning frenzy. Poor creatures. They shall be homeless this Avrudu season.
I shall hit the bed now since tomorrow I got to whip up a miracle cake like no other that has ever hit the tables of our house before. Therefore, I need to preserve my energy to cut, grind, mix, chop and bake tomorrow. Nightey night everyone! Hope you're having as much fun as I am! :)
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