(Kamal is my friend Cherryl's chef in Delhi, India. He had cooked and packed his most fabulous stuffed "karelas" (bitter melons; I LOVE bitter melon!!! - yumm!) for me to bring to NYC in January. There were 5 of them which I have consumed over the past 4 months, the last one this past weekend.)
The last of Kamal's karelas was consumed this past weekend.
The moment was poignant and passionate.
As I pulled it out of the freezer, I stared at its frozen form.
It sat there in the container, hard and lifeless, trapping the pungent aroma it was soon to release.
I held its hardened, gnarled, crusty, expectant 6.5 inches in my hand, gingerly.
The warmth of my hand moistened its frozen skin.
A wave of anticipation swept my senses and a sigh escaped my quivering lips.
My (gastric) juices gushed.
It was gastronomical lust. My mouth watered.
My eyes sparkled through the haze of desire.
The heart ached at the thought of the inevitable last kiss.
I consigned it to the microwave.
Within seconds it was alive and breathing again.
The thin string that bound it, strained as its body swelled.
It was hot. Oil oozed from the corners.
There was that intoxicating aroma.
I took it in my hands and slowly placed it in my mouth.
Melting on my tongue as the teeth sank in.
The palate caved as it swirled in a pool of raging saliva.
And then,.....it disappeared down the esophagus.
It was over.
It was gone.
Will we ever meet again?
The heartache lingers.....
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