She occasionally obliged me, and taught me the wonders of whipping up a white sauce, adding her glorious yellow powder, and combining it with the leftovers from a meal that would have been too bland for me to eat. Voila! A cook was born.
By 13, I surpassed her: putting out tiny bowls of peanuts, coconut, chopped apples, sliced banannas, raisins-- all sorts of jewels. By 19 I found out that tinned curry powder was an abomination, and I was to report to the nearest specialty store, which happened to be in Flushing, Queens, buy my spices individually, and grind them to make my own masalas. That came in especially handy when I lived in the deep snow shown in my photos tab. That was in Hall Siding, near Nelson, BC.
I'm back in Calgary now, and I'd better rush downstairs to my coconut chicken, which must be stirred.
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