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vignettes

eryk!
 

The chef is told to use one and a half ‘pao’ meat in each kabob, and as an after-thought, to add eggs to the kabobs. This makes them ‘special’ chappal kabobs. He takes a handful of meat from a container, and holds it in the air. You wonder what he is up to, then realize he is weighing it. The process is repeated six times. In a rhythmic fashion, various herbs and spices are added to each future kabob. He places them on the frying pan, but very close to himself. The kabobs are not yet ready to be put into the dark liquid bubbling at the other end of the frying pan. You ask yourself if that is the cooking oil, afraid of the only possible answer. You wonder if you could borrow some of it from the chef if your car ran low on motor oil. You notice the kabobs have moved a few inches closer to the chef. Hmmm.

The chef takes out four eggs from somewhere under his seat. They are chicken eggs. In two swift motions that almost appear as one, he breaks the eggs. The eggshells drop their cargo, white and yellow, onto the frying pan. Immediately they begin to cook. The chef pulls out a long, metal spatula and slowly moves the still dazzlingly white eggs towards to other end of the frying pan. You watch as the eggs hesitantly move towards their dark destination, their whiteness gradually overwhelmed by the blackness of the oil. Now, they are black eggs. The chef pulls them back. They eagerly move towards him, or maybe away from the oil, which runs out of the eggs in numerous small rivulets, exposing their real color. You are not prepared for the chef’s next move. He squeezes the rest of the oil out of the eggs with his hands, literally and figuratively, leaving them almost as white as when they came out of the shell. He distributes the eggs to each kabob evenly, and prepares for the last step. Using the spatula, he moves the kabobs, in sets of three, to the other end of the pan. The kabobs have accepted their fate, and slide effortlessly into the dark embrace of the hot liquid. You lose interest, along with the chef, since the kabobs are almost done. You look the brave man who ordered the kabobs in the eye, wish him all the best, and point out to him the plumber shop on the other side of the road.