Coconut Milk

Curries can be really trying to make. Some people get them right immediately, but I spent years avoiding the attempt at making them because they never tasted exactly how I wanted them to. 

If you don't get them right, the flavours in a curry can be jarring. Sometimes nothing cuts the spiciness properly and you can't taste any of the flavours. Whether its Indian, Thai, or Malay, I could never get it right. Everything was mixed together but it didn't work together. 

That was until coconut milk. 

Coconut milk is the secret ingredient to a curry. Yes, yoghurt or cream is an option but there's something about the softness and sweetness of coconut that cushions everything. It's difficult to identify in a dish - especially one with loads of other ingredients. it does the vitally important job of launching all the other flavours without being overly conspicuous. It provides a lightness that takes the pressure off the situation as a whole. It's like a neutraliser in a dish and I can't stress its importance. 

She was coconut milk. 

In any situation she provided this softness and this sweetness that made everything seem a lot easier to handle. Without being too loud or extravagant, she would cut tension and lower pressure. She made things easy and everyone around her was affected by her kindness. They were the other ingredients, and with her around, they complimented each other and worked well together and things seemed little less overwhelming. 

She was like coconut milk in my own mind. I have thoughts and feelings and ambitions and non-ambitions that clash together like the world's most disgusting curry. They fester if go undelt with and everything intensifies. I am broken and overwhelmed and my head needs coconut milk. My family needs coconut milk. My whole world needs coconut milk.