Lotus roots, squash flowers and lemon grass curry (no rice soup). That’s my recipe for today’s blog, but before I write about food I have to digress to an old story of a gander. Years ago when I first moved to the island I was living in Haiku town and would hitchhike on Hana Rd. to get home. One time a truck pulled up and asked where I was going and I said where but the man thought his destination would fall short by 8 miles yet if I were interested in helping him capture a wild duck at a bird sanctuary up the road then he would take me all the way. I jumped at the opportunity. Getting there immediately after passing the electric gate was a sense of magic in the forested air. We were greeted by an elder wearing a monk’s robe and belt and expressed namaste with his hands and said cordially, please follow me to the garden. It could’ve been St. Francis that stirred the park walking through the conservatory. Reaching the bluff with a view of the coast nestled, when downhill at once rising from the precipice we were surprised by a burst of aviary doves rising like peacock tails flying to the summit of the woods, and our host held up his arms to the sky and bowed. Wow! What just happened? Did I unbeknownst get a ride to “heaven”? The hitch driver only wanted his duck for forty dollars as advertised under animal adoption on the local paper instead got to see this miracle and looked dumbfounded awe. The scene was beatific or operatic in scale (a Madama Butterfly production at the Met no less)— we were mesmerized upon this lighting strike! Just around the bend is a pond and you’ll find it there, much good luck gentlemen, hearing the monk as we returned to reality. I played rugby in college I got this, (wild goose chase) boasted my companion. The rest of the “tale" was both hilarious and a success and I will leave the story to your imagination... but know I was game (that was the bargain for the ride), and I needed badly to get home safe for it was already getting dark.
To this day we remained friends. In fact, he’s been a neighbor in Wailuku running a small permaculture/biodynamic farm raising heirloom culinary plants in his backyard. And no surprise the white gander is still there (laying eggs for his omelette). I was a farm hand briefly for one summer responsible for digging and establishing the sweet potato field, and renewing the compost mound with a pitchfork. The farmer would play opera on the vinyl while we were working and he said this type of music was good for them (for the vital purity of his homegrown crops). Weekly he sets up by the coffee shop on Market St. a vegetable, herbs, fruits and cut flowers stand— all these assembled in place on a wood wagon pulled behind with a painted sign of the name of his farm by a vintage country bike. He’s cool, rugged artsy and very friendly. Today he made me a special tea bag concocting an herb here a root there a flower in a mason jar from his set up and told me was good for the brain and heart function and relaxation. He had, as well, all the ingredients for my curry — the idea was an impromptu decision seeing how lush and beautiful they were splayed with such care (the squash flowers were like autumn lilies, the lemon grass vibrant aromatic, the lotus root like an unusual gift from heaven). I promised a coworker I would one day cook her curry and bring it to the office, as we always eat lunch together. I will keep my word.
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