In a kitchen with no right answers— A layered curry made with fermentation and fruit

Home cooking is fun precisely because there is no single right answer. My husband absolutely loves curry. He says he could eat it every day. When I run out of ideas for what to make, I think, "Curry will do for today," but my husband says, "Curry would be great." In a way, that's a big help for the one doing the cooking. That said, since we're not a restaurant, I can't make the exact same taste every time. Or rather, I don't. I get bored easily, so I can't help but experiment. Sometimes I use store-bought roux, but it's almost always a blend. Cumin (whole seeds and powder), turmeric, coriander. When simmering, I always chop up one tomato and add it in. A little curry leaf and cinnamon too. I also toss in some fennel stalks, which I keep on hand in my Vietnamese kitchen. I adjust the amount of chili up or down depending on the sweetness, and for the vegetable stock I use mushroom granules. They aren't too salty, so they come in very handy.

The roux, the amount of spice, and the ingredients are different every time. This time it was a sweet commercial-grade roux, so I added a bit more chili pepper. That is our household's standard curry. Even though I call it "standard," it comes out different every time. My recent discovery was mango pits. Cheap mangoes have a lot clinging to each pit. When I simmered the fiber-covered flesh left on the pit as a substitute for chutney, it unexpectedly gave the flavor real depth. And today's rediscovery was some failed soy milk yogurt. The temperature had been too high, so it separated. It's not spoiled, but I couldn't bring myself to drink it as it was. For the time being, I shook it and put it in the fridge, and by the next morning that separated mixture had blended back together and had come close to a thick, creamy drinkable soy milk yogurt.

It's reasonably tasty even to drink on its own—but what if you tried putting it into curry? What if, at the step where you always add water, you added that "half-finished" batch instead? When I tried it, it developed a surprising richness. The lactic acid and the tomato's acidity layer together, and the soy milk's protein blends with the roux's fats. The flavor becomes even, and a depth is born. The theory comes afterward. But what happened in the kitchen was much simpler. I just didn't throw away the one that had failed. Since the sourness came forward a little, I added one tablespoon of apricot jam and let it sit for a while. The fruit's sweetness will round off the sharp edges, and the flavor should become even more mellow. A curry different from the usual taste was born. I'm looking forward to my husband's reaction tonight. Curry isn't something you make with spices alone. By layering fermentation and fruit, layers are born in the flavor. A day when you can find failure amusing is usually a good day. Relocation Life Ranking