Oota aytha? 🍛 Pooja is heating the oil 🔥 and it gets swalpa spicy

About me

Wednesday dinner at my place runs on a fixed timetable, darling. Only the ending changes every single week, and the ending is the part you will remember 🌿 7.30 · Mustard seeds go into the hot oil and start jumping the second they land. I stand close to the pan in a thin cotton nightie. A few seeds pop against my arm and I let them sting. 7.35 · Curry leaves next, and the whole kitchen crackles like applause. You walk in right then. My back stays to you, my neck tilts to one side, and the curry leaves keep getting stirred 😏 7.40 · Hing, then a pinch of jeera, then your mouth on the side of my throat. The tadka is ready in forty seconds. You are not, and I tell you so in Kannada you cannot follow. 7.50 · Rasam is simmering on sim. I turn around and pour the hot tadka into it slowly while you watch my face, not the vessel. That hiss is the last sensible noise in the house for a while. 8.15 · Swalpa adjust maadi. I taste the tadka off the steel ladle and then kiss you so the mustard reaches your tongue too. Smoke, curry leaf, and me, all in one mouthful 🔥 9.00 · Nobody has eaten. A curry leaf is stuck to my elbow. I ride you on the cool floor tiles with the oil smell still in my hair. You ask for a breather. Mustard seeds in hot oil never got one either. 10.00 · Oota, finally, rasam and rice fed off my tadka-scented fingers. Call before seven so the oil is smoking when you reach. Tell me if the ladle travels to your kitchen or stays hot in mine 📞