The joy of saeme with the string..

The woman asked if I wanted saeme. I caught a whiff of the fragrance.. remembering when we had a saeme vine and how the sweet smell used to linger after picking and 'stringing'.

There is some ritual about 'stringing' the side of the saeme, and this adds to the time. I can't remember cooking this on my own. My head a lil fuzzy from feeling that I have not done anything new and radical in a long time.

So I thought, what the hell.. let me break with culture, tradition and so on.. do something radical.. and cook the saeme 'just suh' without stripping the fine vein from the sides of each saeme.

Coconut milk is needed. There is a ritual of grating coconut, leaving a bit back to eat with sugar and getting the milk from the rest.

The saeme smells nice in the pan. I go easy on the masala, not sure of how things will work out. Aloo in the mix because I forgot to buy the eddo.

It cooks, I am nervous, the saeme will get too soft. But it doesn't.

It is nice and crunchy but it wanted some more masala.. but that is arite.. I feel joy and a sense of accomplishment.