Enduring Errors

The idea today is to expound on tangential thinking. By which I mean, those times that ideas or dialogue take on a mind of their own and wander hither and yon – sometimes getting lost in wildernesses of wild conjecture; but sometimes circling back and drawing in a wider context.

Moments ago I was snug as a bug under warm covers traversing meandering non-terrestrial trails. (I like to arise before the roosters sound off, although I do occasionally linger until the sparrow cacophony erupts.)

Oooops. I almost forgot my intended focal point. Perhaps, noting it would be prudent.

Masaman Curry – a dish Westerners could consider a “stew”.

Along the way, before I arose, there was pondering about the perpetuation of some enduring errors that have become endearing. Of course, anything has to endure to be endearing – it seems to carry a span of time within it, doesn’t it? The first example that floated up was – “ … the four corners of the earth.”, which segued to watching the sunrise or in this case – waiting for the sun to rise, since it was barely 4am.

Through all that, it dawned on me that, possibly, tangents or diversions or even distractions from a specific topic could be conversational. Conversations evolve, don’t they? Seems like they do or did; it has been such a long time since I had one.

Those thoughts prompted a brief review of an extended involvement, way back when, with a particularly supportive fellowship. Said fellowship promotes heartfelt and gut wrenching sharing; but, not so much, two way conversing. (In the meetings – chatting before and after abounds.) Anyway, there lie the roots of my story telling. Maybe not the roots; more like healthy strong branches over arching as an umbrella braced against inclement weather. Well, after telling one’s story several thousand times within that narrow perimeter of an affliction’s frame with the ever festering neurosis eschewing redundancy …. hey, what do you think? Some tangential verbosity, and dare I say colorful vectors, stretched the envelope. Eclectic stews were brewed and served up with a mish mash of metaphors. The mural was frequently painted afresh with alternate hues and tones.

One of the more taciturn and succinct members once told me that there are two paths to choose from; two channels of pursuit; two roads to trudge. He said there is only one decision needed: “Which way will be the theme for your travels? A person can be part of the solution or part of the problem.” He went on to explain, “Both are very large avenues with plenty of room to move around on, zigzag along or perilously flip flop between; albeit one provides more protection from the ‘elements’.” (Which implies: earth, fire, water, air. Another enduring error.)

AND I keep typing – Eros. What’s up with that?

I love that question; although, my father harped on his belief that it is not possible to love an inanimate object.

Here’s a riff.

“What’s up?” Or “Waaaaahhhhzzzzzzzzzzzzup?

Up is an antiquated concept of a mind still trapped by linear thinking!

Even the Lion King’s “Circle of Life” lacks the complete array of dimensions pervasive in the physical world and we, the people, are not just physical beings. Some say we are Beings having a physical experience, but that’s another subject for another day.

We, “the people”, is a thread I want to weave in here. Remember – masaman curry stew.

Shortly after New Years Eve, Ponra and I were invited, along with our neighbors Bah-oh and Dto, to have dinner with Bame and his wife, On. Bame is from the country called India by English speaking folk. He speaks a version of English, himself. He has been in Thailand fourteen years and also seems to speak Thai very well, but I really can’t tell. So, realizing that I was going to introduce Bame, as an Indian, I drifted off on reflections of the enduring error from the era of Christopher Columbus.

I have long lacked comfort with casually responding to, “What’s up?” At the expense of exposing my arrogance to the light of day, the sun does not “rise” or “set”; and when Ole’ Chris waded ashore, he was not in Asia. Yeh! Sure! The people who, at that time, lived on (eventually to be) the North American Continent (and only now having that label for a messily 500 years.) did most likely walk over from Asia. Maybe some came by boat. I don’t know!

I once went to a big speaker marathon rally in Miami. A quasi famous guy was framing his relationship to discrimination; specifically racism. He asked the crowd, “Can you name an American war hero of Asian decent?”

Can you? Huh? Can you?

The answer hit me in the manner of an epiphany – a profound revelation with enduring impact.

So, anyway … we got invited to dinner and even though this Indian guy knows English, we didn’t talk. It’s weird sitting at parties, hearing conversations and not understanding any of the chatter. Almost none of it. At one point I heard my wife say, “masaman.”

Rlahk masaman mahk mahk Wahn jai Khoon rloo con-gruah masaman mai, I blurted. Yahk kin masaman. I love masaman, Sweetheart!! You know cook? Want eat!

I got really excited. I thought we were going to have masaman that evening. We didn’t. We had a traditional party meal, which starts as a huge pile of raw food. In the center of the seating area (Usually not a table.) there is a broiler grill that has a simmering pot or moat for broth. Normally, they have charcoal fires. (See previous post.) This one was electric. It …… never mind. The point is that I learned that Ponra knows the word masaman. I soon learned she had never prepared the dish. A dish, by the way, that I used as a yard stick to measure the quality of any American Thai restaurant’s culinary expertise. Well, I compared everyone’s version to the one from a little place on Sample Road in Coral Springs, Florida. Theirs was by and far the best I ever had, until last night.

I mentioned Ponra never made it before.

She called her sister in Bangkok and checked with another sister in Chiang Mai. Whatever they said, she assimilated effectively. She made one mistake. It was not enduring. I found it endearing. She forgot to purchase, and add, potato Farang (The other F word just went off in my head because I put an E at the end of potatoe – thanks Dan Quayle.)

What’s a “Potato Farang”? Idaho … Rusik, Aroostook, Maine … non-Asian, Western, as in steak and potatoes. (Huh! The E fits there.)

[Double huh! I once had a friend named Injin Joe when I lived in Maine. He was from, well kicked out of, the Micmac tribe up in Aroostook County. There’s some story tellin’ from those days ….. He taught me how to make “Squaw Bread” – I wonder what it is called now-a-days. He, also, cooked the best porcupine stew I ever ate.]

I was happy she forgot the extra starch. I have settled into rice quite nicely. Actually, we had a big pile of rice still in the steamer. Normally, I would eat a small mound of it with my morning eggs and garlic, but that day a neighbor had whipped up a glass noodle version of Pad Thai, which was more like Cow Paht with noodles, but it was really good; and I’m not a fan of eating multiple starches in one meal.

I suppose it is the potatoes that lend masaman to be considered as a stew. It has a rather thick curry based brown sauce. Curry, as you may or may not know, is a general term for a blend of spices; generally leaning towards the spicy end of the Scoville Scale – spicy hot. I recently learned that the Scoville Scale uses some relationship between the hotness of a spice and sugar. Something like how much sugar it takes to mellow out the heat. Masaman has a lot of onions, which are sweet, and, I was surprised to find out, it has tamarind pulp. That’s a form of candy that grows on trees around here. There are also peanuts in the mix. I love peanuts!

I, also, found out that the dish is traditionally considered to be from the Northwest region of Thailand – the Chiang Mai area. It is usually prepared with chicken drum sticks. That’s how Ponra presented it, although when all the chicken was gone I used the sauce on the next morning’s rice and she added pork for everyone else.

I don’t think anyone in this village prepares small portioned recipes. There is a constant open house pot luck traveling picnic theme to meal times here.

Everyone loved the masaman!!

It will visit again soon!

I did a little research … well, I knew the answer, I just wanted to find a picture or two.

That American war hero of Asian decent was called Goyaałé, often rendered as Goyathlay or Goyahkla in English. He is most well known by a name given him in war by his enemies – Geronimo.