Tales From Thalpawila - 2

Embul Thiyal for England !

“Podi puthata yawanna embul thiyal tikak hadanna oney”

I hear my grandma talking to my uncle as he sits in his easy chair or “haansi putuwa” in the verandah one evening.

My mother had 05 brothers, who were known by different names relating to their ages , I have a “Loku mama” a “Punchi Mama’ a “Podi Mama” and a “Hinni mama” ( those of you from the south will know punchi, podi and hinni all mean small, so I basically had three small uncles!) but the one I liked best was “Hoda mama” (Hoda means good and he was the epitome of goodness).

My grandma was talking to “Hoda mama” as he used to live with my grandma in the village to look after her. “Podi mama” lived in England and he was rarely seen by us.

So whenever someone from Sri Lanka went to England it was customary to send Sri Lankan food and sweets to your loved ones through those going to that country. Looking back I am sure this must have been an extremely arduous task but those entrusted with the task I remember bore it with great patience.

“Heta mama maalu karayagen balayek aragena embul thiyal karala gannam”.

“Embul thiyal” or dry, black, fish curry is made from Tuna fish (balaya) and no one makes it quite like the people from the south of Sri Lanka. My grandma is an expert and I love to watch her making this very tasty dish.

The next day I am up earlier than usual and sitting on the steps of the verandah to await the arrival of the fish seller who brings a selection of huge tuna fish for my grandmother’s inspection. She inspects each one carefully and selects a fish that is almost as tall as me.

The fish seller cuts the fish according to my grandma’s directions, “Oka embul thiyal walata hariyanna loku keli walata kapanna.” She asks the fish seller to cut the fish into big pieces. “Hodai Iskole hamniey”, he says and proceeds to do as instructed.

Huge clay pots are brought out from the kitchen and the pieces are put into them as they are cut. The fish head is cut and put into a separate pot and I know that this will be turned into a delicious curry for lunch. (If you have not eaten the Matara fish head curry you are missing something.)

After the fish is thoroughly washed and cleaned the ritual of preparing the fish starts.

I watch as my grandma takes big balls of spices she has prepared beforehand and mixes them into the pots. There are black balls of “Goraka” , gleaming red balls of fresh ground chillies, small yellow balls of turmeric and numerous others spices and condiments which are essential to give the “embul thiyal” the aroma and taste that makes it so distinctive.

The fish is coated with the different spices and condiments and then the pots are put on the hearth. In our house we have three hearths. Two made from clay and one made by keeping three large stones in a orderly manner. The fish is cooked in pots kept on the two clay hearths and the process takes quite some time as the fish has to first cook properly and then it has to simmer on the hearth under low heat, till most if not all, of the wetness evaporates and the fish curry is dry and free of moisture to enable it to be packed for its long journey to England.

My grandma sits near the hearths and keeps an eye on the cooking to make sure it is perfect.

I sit on a small chair and watch as she adjusts the flames in the hearth by either putting in or pulling out bits of firewood or coconut husk.

The smell of the embul thiyal as it cooks makes me feel very hungry. I long to open the lid of the pot and look inside but my grandma would not be very pleased with me if I did that, so I quickly decide against doing that.

After what seems an age, “aa, dan hari”, she says and it is finally time to take the pots off the hearth. Once they are off the fire they are left to cool before being packed into tins to be sent to “Podi mama”, all the way in England.

At the same time the fish head curry has been cooking on the stone hearth and it too is ready. My grandma serves red rice, fish head curry and pol sambol on to my plate for my lunch and hands it to me lovingly with a pat on my head.

As I sit down to eat the delicious food I wish “Podi mama” could taste the fish head curry too !