Grandma's vegetarian curry

In my grandmother's kitchen, filled with the pungent smell of smoke, perhaps the lingering taste of her vegetarian curry is my favorite dish.

Vegetarian curry dish. Photo: Archival material.

My grandmother was a lifelong vegetarian, so vegetarian dishes were always present in our family's meals in the past. On rainy, gloomy days, she would often treat me to a fragrant, rich, and creamy vegetarian curry. Her curry always contained familiar root vegetables like taro, carrots, and sweet potatoes. And of course, straw mushrooms were indispensable, their sweet flavor adding a delicate touch to the curry.

At first glance, everyone thinks that cooking vegetarian dishes is simple, not as elaborate or meticulous as cooking meat dishes. But in reality, I saw my grandmother busily preparing the ingredients and soaking the plump white beans and a handful of kidney beans from the night before.

My grandmother cooked using a sawdust stove. She carried the stove to a pile of sawdust in a dry place, placed an empty bottle in the center, and tightly packed sawdust around it to fill the entire surface. Then, she slowly removed the bottle and lit the stove. When the fire was glowing red and heat filled the space around the stove, she began frying each type of root vegetable, pre-cut into square pieces and seasoned with curry powder, in a pan of oil. Once all sides were golden brown, she transferred them to a bowl.

Grandma sautéed some shallots, added a few crushed lemongrass stalks for extra aroma, then added all the fried vegetables to the pot, seasoned with a little curry powder and some spices according to her usual recipe. The fragrant aroma of sautéed shallots, lemongrass, and curry powder wafted up, mingling with the smoky scent, lingering in the air. Grandma poured in just enough water to cover the ingredients and cooked until boiling, then removed the firewood to let the heat subside. She added coconut milk, mushrooms, fried tofu, and pre-boiled white beans and kidney beans, and continued cooking for a few more minutes. The ingredients began to blend together, submerged in a rich, creamy, and fragrant mixture.

The bowl of curry was served, and Grandma sprinkled some pepper, chopped scallions, and a few sprigs of cilantro on top. From Grandma's vegetarian curry, a delicate, pure aroma lingered in the air.

In my eyes, any vegetarian dish prepared by my grandmother became a "delicacy." It was harmonious and flavorful, bringing me peace and joy with every bite. Back then, I didn't understand any of the philosophical concepts taught in Buddhism, but I heard my grandmother say that eating vegetarian food was a way to calm one's mind amidst the hustle and bustle of life, a way to practice finding inner peace in the countless turbulent moments that surround one's soul.

My grandmother is old now, no longer strong enough to meticulously prepare and care for the dishes as she once did. The old kitchen and the sawdust stove are gone too. Everything remains frozen in memories that I cherish as I grew up. There, I find the dishes brimming with my grandmother's sweet and loving care. There's the rich, comforting, and refreshing vegetarian curry that she painstakingly seasoned and prepared. There, I also find the lessons that gently guided me through life's uncertainties, leading me to peace.

Source: https://baodanang.vn/ca-ri-chay-cua-noi-3332129.html