“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” – St. Augustine

Salivating in Sri Lanka

Making my way down the tiled stairs my clothes cling to me in sudden sweat like the heat of an inescapable wet jungle. Passing the family shrine of Buddha Shakyamuni, my nostrils fill with the familiar sweet flowery perfume of the incense and mix with the scents of the spices wafting from the kitchen below: Cinnamon, Masala, Cumin, Chilli.

I find Nandani hovering over the stove, her thick, plaited hair hangs loosely over her shoulder, an elegant rope reaching down her back. Short with a tiny frame her gleaming eyes are pools of night set above full cheeks, her smooth face yet to be touched by lines of age.

Rows of glass jars filled with spices the colour of rich dark earth line the wall to her right. I watch closely as she cops the tomato in quick fluid movements, working not from a recipe but years of practice, learning to cook from her mother, the secrets passed down by each generation.

As I slice Amu Miris, the long green chilli, I step backwards as the garlic and ginger paste hits the bottom of the worn black pan, the oil hissing and spitting, threatening to scald my fair skin. A wide grin spreads over her face, “the pan must always be very hot before you start cooking” she explains.

I ask what yellow powder is and a frown creases her brow. Hurriedly I’m dragged to the neighbour’s house where a rapid conversation in Sinhalese takes place. Standing silently I observe the delicate wood carvings atop the ornate wooden door frame and look up suddenly as ‘tumeric’ is shouted, Nandani explaining to all that her Australian baby is learning to cook.

The sizzling meat and rainbow of root vegetables bubbles, the aroma growing stronger as the flavours and spices combine. Honoured with the task of taste testing, I select a piece of chicken and carefully massage the meat with my fingers until it comes loose from the bone. The taste dissolves in my mouth and I look to see my surrogate Sri Lankan mother smiling proudly as I ask for more.