OUR VERY OWN MASTERCHEF - PARVATHY AMMA!

 

                                                                               Our beautiful Parvathy Amma

When I was around six months old, a miracle took place at home. A young lady walked into my parents' Army home and knocked at the door. When my mother opened it, the lady smiled toothily and said,

“Do you need a cook?”

My mother’s first reaction was a sigh of relief as she ushered Parvathy Amma in. Stuck with a six-month old baby, Mom, who had always been a whirlwind rushing around with a million things to do, had been feeling the dire need to hand the said baby to someone and just put her feet up.

That is how Parvathy Amma came into our lives. She was a diligent worker, a home manager and above all, a MasterChef in those days when the programme was not even a twinkle in someone’s eye. She had magic in her fingers and over the years, she not only honed her culinary skills, but also perfected the art of knowing exactly what everyone in the house enjoyed. By then, my two sisters had also come along and since our maternal grandparents also lived with us, there were diverse tastebuds that needed to be pleased.

Come morning, Parvathy Amma would be up along with the rooster, and after a shower, she would throw herself wholeheartedly into the preparations of breakfast. This list went this way – idlis for my grandparents, with chutney and dosa podi ( the powder that is mixed with oil), crispy, almost transparent dosas for my mother, porridge and eggs for my father. We girls had our own whims and every day would see three kinds of egg preparations on the dining table – sunny side up, or down, scrambled eggs with cheese or a savoury omelette – all of which would be whipped up in a jiffy. Of course, her coffee was to die for and there were days when I would have around six cups of coffee, the last one late at night when I was burning the midnight oil.

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Lunch and dinner would progress in the same manner. We would have guests dropping in at all hours and not one of them was allowed to leave without eating. Now when I think back, I find myself amazed at how effortlessly Parvathy Amma created a table filled with dishes, each more delicious than the other. Her sambar had people licking their fingers, her chicken curry and stew were eagerly sought and her pulaos and snacks were out of this world. Since Dad was in the Army, we would get posted out every two to three years, and when we met old friends, apart from the rest of the conversation, there would always be a query from them.

“How is our dear Parvathy Amma? We can never forget her delicious food!”

Decades went by, and when she started slowing down, we had a girl come in to be her helper. Yet, Parvathy Amma was extremely possessive about her kitchen. She refused to relegate her duties to anyone else. In fact, as we were growing up, she never allowed us to brush up our culinary talents, and hence, when I got married, I could not even boil an egg. It was only after assiduously burning much food and maltreating my poor better half’s stomach that I finally got the hang of cooking palatable food. Of course, my sisters barged into her kitchen before they tied the knot, unwilling to subject their spouses to the same torture.

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It was after our daughter was born that Parvathy Amma retired from cooking. However, she would sit on a chair and bombard the girl in the kitchen with instructions, step by step, handing over her precious recipes to her, as a result of which we continued to have delicious food.

The day came when she was bed-ridden and we would all go and sit by her, offering her delicious mango slices and anything she asked for.  We even got her a small television so that she could watch her favourite serials. When she was ready to go, we all sat by her and prayed till her last breath left her. That was truly the end of an era. We had been lucky to have Parvathy Amma in our lives and the tales of her culinary skills and her immense loyalty to our family still live on.

 

                                                                   Freepik

Written as as part of #BlogchatterFoodFest