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Fuel for the Soul
With one step into the kitchen, the mood around me escapes into a world of its own. The still, serene atmosphere of the hallway is transformed into the vibrant, bustling life of the kitchen. Crackles and sizzles jump out as spewing oil sparks heat into the atmosphere. The knives' quick blades pierce through vegetables leaving strips of bright red tomatoes and slim pieces of crisp, green capsicum. The room stands, taken by the chatters of maids and chefs. The clash of metal spoons against large steel pots, stirs the curries and its various spices. Outside, rain hammers hard against the windows, leaving behind a thick blanket of gray clouds.
The refrigerator door is pulled, releasing a hint of coldness, quickly captured by the steam from boiling curries and frying vegetables. The stove, with flames steaming up the sides of large pots and holding flat pans, lies still on the countertop. In a back corner of the black marble counter's surface, the rice sleeps in a covered metal pot. The tense faces of chefs and maids' hurried hands reflect hard work and concentration. By my side, the oven is started, its dials' turned to cook the food inside. Polished wooden drawers are opened, and the neatly aligned silverware is removed, followed by a rolling and a soft bump as the drawer is closed. Cabinets are opened, while maids take out the remaining silverware, and shut again. Vegetables jump around within the pan, while curries calmly dance around the metal spoon. Throughout the kitchen, some people are standing, while some sit on the hard, cold floor. The ongoing action and movement all around me continues through a relaxed routine.
As I inhale, the curries' aromas hover about my nose. A tinge of freshly cut vegetables teases a dance around my nose as well. The scent of a slight moisture rushes into my body. My breath is captured into the wonderful smells of various ingredients. Biting into freshly cut vegetables, the juice and flavor fill my mouth. A sip of curry carries the heat, rushing passed my throat and leaving behind only a sharp sting of spice and heat. My teeth separate the soft bunches of rice stuck together, and its steam creates heat in my mouth. All these foods are followed by a unique taste. A cold mango flavor, like a dessert, seals the rest of the meal.
With just one step back, this world of perceptions is turned back to the still, serene atmosphere of the hallway. Silence and stillness suddenly takes over. The sun outside glimmers and the rays reach beyond the seas as I sit down, and finish the elaborate dish filled with spice and flavor.
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Favorite Quote:
"Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead." -Benjamin Franklin
Keep writing and keep up the good work! Two thumbs, eight fingers, and ten toes up! =)