Curry-ous? -- A cooking story

When I was little, one of the biggest highlights of having mom at home (when she was not working at the hospital) was curry-rice day. My family treated it like a national holiday. True, we did not hoist up a flag or raise a red lantern in its honor but it was a rarity to have mom donning on the apron to prepare treats for us. Unlike the Indian or Thai curry, the Korean/Japanese variety vary in taste, consistency and color. But perhaps the most important difference is the kind of "kick" you receive to your palate--you feel it on the top of your tongue and the roof of your mouth. (Others have a kick to the back of your throat or on the way down as the curry passes through the throat). Who would've thought "spicy" could be so multi-dimensional?

When mom made curry, our vegetable foes became our friends. My sisters and I would spend countless hours venting our frustration or misplaced anger to the likes of potatoes, carrots, and celery through the peeling and dicing of our veggie friends. When done, mom would douse them with pools of oil and spices before sizzling their drunken bodies into the frying pan. Man, did they scream with a sizzle!

With their protest abated, mom would add cubes of beef tenderloin or chicken into the busy pan where she would flip, toss, and deftly manage, eventually uniting the cultures of greens and browns. As these allies find companionship in their newfound state, mom would carefully transfer them from their previous home into a new, iron-pot housing. Next, she would quell their thirst from their hot journey by pouring some cool, refreshing water into the pot until they start to float. Using a ladle-wand, mom would stir and stir until it came to a soup-like boil. The smell was intoxicating! As the boiling continues, mom would open a packet of curry that looks somewhat like a bar of huge Hershey's chocolate bar and slowly let it melt into the iron-housing. Except for some occasional stirring, the pot remains closed for an hour. We would wait impatiently as the aroma fills the room.

Finally, mom would open the menacing lid, revealing the most tender of curries. She generously pours its contents into each steaming bowls of rice. It is one of the happiest days of my life...

Please share some of your curry rice stories. I do recommend the "Curry House" in Little Tokyo for those of you who have not tried Korean/Japanese curry. [Edit by="seun on Jan 8, 3:38:40 PM"][/Edit]