Pestle and Mortar

Thursday evening already and I seem to have spent more time behind the wheel than in front of the stove. Together with all the medical trips, dental trips and premature departures, I could be forgiven for a little paranoia; for wondering if there is a conspiracy to keep me out the kitchen, or why Tan Hiriko needs inoculations, or Ajahn Abhinando his teeth looking at. “Is it my vege-stew?” “Is it my bread?” When our friend Maureen arrived with her mortar board I couldn’t help conclude she was dropping a hint to that effect. What ever next? Caretaker Richard bringing his power tools to the meal? Sometimes, it’s difficult to get things just right; either the bread’s half baked or its ‘crusty’ enough to challenge vows of harmlessness and I’m left thinking I should stick with the driving.

Though perhaps I do myself a disservice… Maureen’s-mortar-board was, after all, of the academic variety. It was fitting therefore, that a day or two later we were visited by a group of young religious-studies students from York, who cooked and offered the meal. Well… there was nothing half-baked about their home-bake. Their questions afterwards were pretty good too.

That was on the Tuesday. The next day saw a Sri-Lankan/Thai co-operation in the kitchen. Sompong and Hall, two of our Wednesday-regulars, brought their grandson Liam with them – an inquisitive and likeable young lad who took great delight in the mains water failure prior to washing up. “You didn’t. Did you?” he exclaimed as I told him I’d informed Northumbrian Water we had “a young boy here, desperate to get stuck into a pile of dishes, and where is our water?” I really ought to be more careful with my precepts (as well as those Ikea drinks glasses).

…Mortar, mortar-boards, pestle and mortars. I could continue the theme with talk of Samanera Nanamoli’s power-porridge, but no one would believe me after last Sunday’s Dhamma talk: Everyone thought the Ajahn was suggesting the reality is preferable to the concept, but maybe he was just pointing out the difference. You’ll have to come and see for yourself won’t you?

If you do, perhaps you could keep in mind our need of the following:

• Soya milk
• Long life milk
• Tomatoes
• Brown rice
• Tahini

And the fact that we have plenty of salt, instant coffee, white rice, towels, soap and toothbrushes.

Rumour has it that the stores-master would also find the following useful:

• Stamps (any value)
• Fire wood
• Teak oil
• Danish oil
• Microporous sticking plaster
• Old newspaper (for fires)

Transferred

With two mornings of dry weather it’s been more like ‘view from the kitchen roof’, as my skill scrubbing carrots was transferred to the plastic corrugations above the back path. I teetered on egg shells and slimy planks trying to avoid an appointment with the stone flags beneath and asked myself if it was worth the bother; they leak like the new sieve from Mame and need replacing like the old one, which couldn’t distinguish water from rice. The newly-returned Ajahn Sawaeng nearly got a soaking from on-high, but otherwise no one seemed to mind my absence from the kitchen, which is not surprising with our Italian friends around. Yesterday, for instance, was the birthday of our good friend Cesare; a kind and refined Milano gentleman with a surprising distaste for coffee, and English grammar acquired from Jane Austen and the Bloomsbury group. He invited various friends to join us (all past visitors of the informally emergent ‘Ratanagiri-Milan branch’, for whom Northumberland is more accessible than Rome) and gave his culinary flair – as well as theirs – a long leash. Happy birthday Cesare.

For the rest, our needs remain the same as the blog in the beginning – though did I mention egg shells??? Then we must be using them all up. They rarely languish in the cupboard for long and are almost always welcome. Along with the occasional bottle of fresh milk. Till next Friday…

In the Beginning

Welcome to our new blog from the kitchen of Harnham Buddhist Monastery, otherwise know as Aruna Ratanagiri. It was the abbot, Ajahn Munindo’s idea. And when it was first mentioned it set me thinking, remembering something I’d read in a novel of Peter Hoeg’s. He reckoned no matter how grand the house or how attractive the other rooms, people always gravitated to the kitchen; the hub; the place where people live out their lives in the domestic situation. I thought about this in the context of the monastery. And actually, it more or less holds true here at Harnham. Yes, yes, I know that the senior monks diligently stay away; and the Dhamma Hall is the heart of the community, but the truth is - no kitchen, no food, no monastery. Ask Maslow.

Or come and see for yourself. See where people brew tea before puja; meet for chores; greet each other; gather for breakfast; discuss the day’s work; meet in the evening; first go when they arrive at the monastery; share, work and talk when preparing food. It’s the kitchen. The place where the formal midday meal is usually offered – a link where the monastic and lay communities meet in a very human way.

Which is what this blog is about. Generating a link. It’s not an official monastery press release. It’s the blog from me, Jim, the kitchen manager. An interesting word I think, blog. Like a blend of “blag” and “plod” that might well describe the credentials of its author. Not necessarily representative, therefore, of the community’s or the abbot’s views. Just "A view from". Those of you who’ve been here will know that the actual view from our kitchen is obscure and unspectacular. That it looks through two sets of windows - which are not cleaned as regularly as they could be - past neglected shrubs and clumps of sycamore trees. You look out whilst chopping parsnips, to see the fine morning weather beyond. Dear reader, please take that as the metaphor, whilst I try my best to approximate to a true rendering of kitchen events and needs. Hopefully I'll have more luck than I do approximating to recipes.

Talking of which, a few words if I may on ingredients. Sometimes I'm asked “what kind of food do you eat or cook at the monastery?” Which is a difficult question to answer, given the variety of cooks and cultural influences. But if I had to give our ‘style’ some sort of a label I'd say it was “fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants-east-west-fusion” (still talking about the kitchen, you understand?) That means we are sincerely grateful for whatever's offered, and work with it. Nevertheless, it's helpful, given the extent of people's generosity combined with our limited storage space, to be able to identify what we really need and what we have in excess. So, if you consult this blog, you can rest assured your offerings will be quickly in the pan and avoid a neglected, languishing life in the cupboard before they're used.

Quickly-in-the-pan just now, would be:

· Semi-skimmed long-life milk

· Soya milk (preferably GM-free)

· Tahini

· Coconut milk

· Tomatoes/tinned tomatoes

Neglected-and-languishing just now, would be:

· Salt

· Instant coffee

· Black tea

· Biscuits

I have heard from the monastery’s Stores Master that the following would be helpful:

· Stamps (any value)

· Ecover Multi Surface Cleaner

· Fire Wood

· Teak Oil (from builders merchant)

For those of you who might enjoy sharing the view from our kitchen, it is my aim to update this every Friday.