Cookery Classes – Beware of Distractions

This column is of course influenced by the two cookery courses we attended in Sri Lanka, but a lot of memories came back. Attend something similar in this country and it may well be a fairly tightly run, professional affair. You may well have not only your own prep area, but even your own cooker. In the air there will be concentration and a whiff of competitiveness.

But going further afield my experience is that distractions abound. In the villa in Italy, a break was called from herb chopping or pasta making around 1030. For a well earned coffee break? No, the usual call was, wine o’clock, and the first cork of the day was popped.

In Thailand, my curry was commended, but my memory is more of the baby elephant which roamed the hotel garden, taking a frequent and concerning interest in the food on my board. I displayed similar expertise in Vietnam, my spring rolls being things of wonder. When my children are clearing the house after I go to The Great Kitchen in the Sky, they may be amazed by my certificate to prove it, assuming they can work out that Tom Jhosnon really was me. Again, I just recall the day sailing through the magical limestone pillars of Halong Bay.

But let's return to Prema's kitchen in an elegant estate just outside Kandy. We met her last week, machete in hand, guiding us through the labour intensive business of making coconut milk. What next?

Before that there was a hair raising trip round hairpin bends in a tuk tuk to Gampola market. After many years you think you know your way round, but the three foot long snake gourd was a first. Aubergines? Why does half the world refers to aubergines as egg plants? Look at the little white ones which look like they were produced by a hen and you'll understand why. Want distraction in a bad way? Look at the meat stalls and be prepared to be converted to vegetarianism.

We also marvel at Harry Potter sounding winged beans and the reddy-purple banana blossom, a definite first. The leaves are what baffle me most. Curry leaves, for example. Totally tasteless when you get them here, these get put in virtually everything, often accompanied by pandan leaves.

We’re back in the kitchen and laden with produce. We’ve been through the coconut milk trial. Surely some cooking awaits? I’ve chopped the green beans for the curry with mustard, garlic and coconut. How hard a dish can that be? Well next you have the slab and roller test to prepare the paste.

This involves a massive stone slab and a huge heavy roller. Ah, but there's the rub. You don't roll. What you do do is rock to and fro, giving the thing a quarter turn in each direction, all the while trying to stop the ingredients going down your front or on the floor. After five minutes of this my arms were aching. Prema uses it about four times a day.

There were of course other distractions. We popped out from time to time to admire Lalith's classic car collection, in various states of repair, and the huge storage containers where he keeps his home produced rice. In spite of this we did produce half a dozen curries, chicken, beetroot, pumpkin and green bean. Some stir fried baby potatoes and a salad with the winged beans. You know how stuff from your own garden tastes best? Driver Sam raved about the quality of Lalith's rice.

 But I do have to say that there were significantly more distractions at Douglas and Cindy's place. (Cindy is

a he, but I think that’s his given name, unlike Douglas.) We pull up at a house, only to be transferred to a wheezing tuk tuk. We go, via a veg stall, to a kitchen which is open to the elements. Chef has to leave after ten minutes due to a family problem. No matter, as the two boys sizzle away. As ever, I seem to be given the basic jobs. More chopping. Interestingly the very thinly sliced aubergines are fried until crispy. Then they're mixed with crunchy onions and flavoured with vinegar and sugar.

I mentioned distractions. I can say with certainty that I have never previously taken a break from cooking to admire a chameleon, largely because I'd never seen one before. Then a pause to chat to the delightful children next door and try to explain to them where Scotland is. Then someone produced a beer and Sam the driver appeared. We left the cooking to the experts, waited till lunch was ready, then scoffed some amazingly good food.

That left just one problem. It was our last day and we hadn't fulfilled our quest to buy cinnamon. No problem said Douglas, the people next door produce it. A quick visit and for three pounds we bought about a metre and a half of the stuff.

Cooking in Sri Lanka is something else, with many and delightful distractions along the way.