writing for self-discovery

Yes, I am fixated on food lately. Understandably so. It’s the first time I’ve had a kitchen in Bali. And just setting the record straight from the get-go, I’m NOT complaining about that! Being served every meal is the stuff of dreams. But even better than that, is a man cooking for me IN MY KITCHEN! That, my friends, is the ultimate.

The other day I had a dirth of bananas on hand. Ketut stopped in to ask if I wanted him to cook. Mind you, he is no longer my personal attendant. Ibu came with my new house and she’s a delight. But she leaves by 10 or 11 in the morning and after that I fend for myself. That is until Ketut pops his head in and checks up on me.

Back to the bananas. I love pisang goreng (banana fritters Bali style) but didn’t know how to make them. I barely had the words, pisang goreng, out of my mouth and Ketut set to work.

He found the rice flour, unopened. What do I know about rice flour?

He dumped some flour into this small dish, added a little water, then cracked an egg on top.

Sprinkling about a teaspoon of sugar over all, he explained that it didn’t need much. “Banana already sweet,” he said.

Then he stirred until it became a smooth, thick, golden batter.

He peeled and cut the bananas lengthwise, approximately in thirds.

And spooned the batter over them until they were well coated.

By now the wok was sizzling with hot oil. Ever so gently, he settled each batter-coated banana slice into the pan.

When they were a delicate gold tinged with brown on one side, he flipped them.

Then he slid them up the edge of the wok and onto the plate. The man has smooth moves.  There wasn’t a grease spatter anywhere!

Where was my camera for the finale?! We each had two of these marvelous creations, bathed in coconut cream with shaved palm sugar on top. Groan.  

While we were eating on the platform overlooking the banana palms in my jungle garden, he told me about the banana tree. It only bears once, then dies. But by the time it has completed its life cycle, there are many new trees already coming up from its roots. In Bali, Ketut tells me, it is symbolic of a man’s great love for one woman. Where a man in the West might say, “You’re my one and only,” in Bali he would say, “My love for you is like a banana tree!”

A word of advice: men, don’t try this phrase at home. It may not translate well. Just whip up a batch of pisang goreng…don’t forget the coconut cream and palm sugar. That, I guarantee, she will understand!