Sweet Slumber Kitchen   

“Hi! Something strange is happening in my kitchen!? 

“What is happening in your kitchen, did a pigeon lay eggs in your unused vegetable basket or is a family of rats feasting on crumbs in your kitchen cabinet?” Kinley cackles at her brother’s idiosyncrasy. Or so it seemed. 

“Yes! Three nights in a row. I wonder, could it be a gh..ghhh..ghost of a chef?” a terror-stricken Fiji responds. “So it happens that mom had restocked my refrigerator with some meat and veggies, among other things, on her last visit. This ghost person efficiently used those up, beat that.”

“What empty bottle of chardonnay are you drunk on? Another of your pranks?”

“I’d rather not indulge myself in your horrid taunts. Now, are you going to help your one and only brother or not?”

“Hold that thought! Let me sip on my spiked cherry vanilla first. That should keep me sane through this absurdity. So what’s happening with you?” Kinley requips, revelling in her own satire.

“Someone made me food while I was asleep? And delicious too, all kinds of delicious, if you know what I mean. It cannot be me as I can barely hold a spatula right, or wrong since it is only tea I can make.” Fiji goes on to narrate his predicament to his older sister, as she continues quaffing on whatever that she was claiming to drink.

3 nights ago…

Friday, 4 am, Fiji wakes up in his kitchen of a quaint 2-bedroom apartment, located in the bustling heart of Aquaa city. With his left foot ballyhooing to the faucet, his hands were soaked in what he guessed was some kind of milk residue. We think not. 

The kitchen smelled like chicken? Or not. Who’s to say. He plainly decided it was his friends who cooked a meal ensuing a drunken stupor the previous night or perhaps the neighbours who joined in later. He dismissed the whole shindig rather quickly and slipped back into a sweet siesta.

To no surprise, he found what looked like leavings of a whole spring chicken roasted to perfection in chive-infused butter, garnished with crushed garlic and rosemary, stored in a fine oblong deep plate inside the fridge. He saw what he saw and then sighed. He devoured what remained of it then and there. 

The night after was a tad dramatic,with what had been cooking! Six hours after that when he awoke and scurried to the kitchen for a quick cup of instant coffee, he couldn’t believe what he saw. The apparent ghost chef had made him a delish-looking tofu enoki casserole layered with homemade ricotta! Some blanched leafies on the side. He hadn’t a clue as to what happened. In bewilderment, he dropped a piping hot coffee on his left foot. All about the ghost in his kitchen was forgotten after that. He did relish the dish after applying some ointment to his burnt foot though. 

On the third night things just went up a notch, yet again. Something unfamiliar yet comforting was discovered at 6:00 am in the morning as he got up for some water. The lingering aroma, he couldn’t just ignore, he had to follow through for the sake of his curiosity and well, the greedy belly. He was shocked yet again at what had unravelled in his kitchen. 

A curry? 

Yes, a curry, still warm in the pot – He could tell from the steam sneaking out from under the lid of the pot that it wasn’t made too long ago. Fiji couldn’t overlook the matter or it may drive him crazy. To think there might actually be a ghost in there.  

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” Kinley exclaimed, “So what was this unfamiliar yet comforting thing you were talking about?” an absorbed Kinley asks with not a line of worry on her face.

“Aren’t you enjoying my misery!” Fiji remarks, annoyed at his sister’s amusement. 

“Whatever that’s supposed to mean!”

“I haven’t a clue as to what I should think of all that’s been happening. I cannot keep ignoring this, now can I?” Fiji continues. “What is more shocking is that I am more interested in knowing the recipe more than anything else, swear to god, it was that great.”

“Are you saying you ate that?”

“Yes, I did! I wonder why…”, “In any case, I should go see a psychiatrist first thing in the morning.”

Next morning…

Fiji woke up to a drizzly cold morning, quickly reminded of the warm enticing curry from the previous night. He had clearly forgotten about the supposed call he was to make first thing after he woke up. 

Putting aside the mystery of the past nights, he decided to try his hand at making the so-called curry, and just like that, for the very first time, Fiji grabbed a wok!

He looked up the internet for a fitting recipe and sadly couldn’t find anything remotely close. He went out to buy the ingredients purely on whim. Contrastingly, foraging vegetables and meat gave him a new outlook on life. Excitedly he hurried back home and started prepping the chicken, mushrooms and carrots (everything that he could conjure up from what he had eaten).

He tried and tried… what came to be was something… not quite edible. 

He gave up! Well, not until after he stocked up the refrigerator with the remaining produce. 

He gave up right after. That night he couldn’t get a wink of sleep. The recipe that he couldn’t devise bothered him the whole night. 

7:00 am the following morning, the alarm rang, waking up a jittery Fiji with his face dampened by his own drool and his T-shirt sleeve doused in blood. Scared, he ran to the washroom. As he was about to wash his face he saw cuts and bruises on his hands as though he had fought burglars all night. He noticed something was off. Lost in thoughts, he opened the refrigerator in order to fix himself some breakfast with the leftover ingredients from the other day, and voilà, a fresh batch of the curry he craved so much. 

To add to his amazement, somebody had actually prepared it again. It was only after an hour of being in denial that he could organise his thoughts to an extent, concluding that the ghost chef may as well have been him. 

Baffled by the latest events, he realised that he must see a psychiatrist immediately. 

He made an afternoon appointment.

The Doc that afternoon was anything but serious. However, he was a great help. Doctor Evian explained the whole situation in the most elementary manner possible. Fiji had what the doctors call a case of “sleep cooking”; albeit uncommon, it happens to a lot of people and that it was nothing that couldn’t be cured with proper medication and some rest. Easy peasy! 

“So, that’s it? It was me cooking in my sleep!?” Fiji mumbled. “But I can’t cook for dear life.”

Doctor Evian asserted, “Oh, don’t read too much into it! We’re capable of things beyond our imagination.” “Also, if you think about it, you can cook now. Isn’t that something to feel good about?”

A relieved Fiji collected his prescription on his way out and concocted a genius idea on his way back. While driving back, he gave his sister a call. Unlike what it looked like, Kinley was in fact worried about her little brother and was reassured after the latest findings. 

Fiji got off the call and realised he’d reached home. He set up a bunch of surveillance cameras in multiple spots in the kitchen area to capture different angles.  

Fixated on the curry dish unlike any he’d had before, he restocked his kitchen with the same ingredients he’d used earlier.

Elated by the thought of what he could be cooking next, Fiji decided to call it a night long before dinner time, and naturally, awoke sooner than the sun rose the next morning. He’d skipped his very first dose of medicine just for this.

It was showtime!

He gleefully opened the refrigerator, calling out the happy chance it was, he found his cherished “Chhaas Chicken”, sitting prettily on the rack waiting for him. (Yes, he conjured up the name before going to sleep, just in case!)

He wasn’t going to let a moment go to waste. He opened his laptop and got down to business. Watching what went down the previous night, he was dumbfounded by his own culinary skills. After an inundating jaw-drop moment or ten, Fiji took this opportunity to recreate his very first chef-d’oeuvre. This time around, he was going to follow his own recipe to a tee!

Here goes the tried, tasted and loved recipe:

“Chhaas Chicken” (Chicken curry prepared in buttermilk)

Fiji brought out 500 grams (1lb) of boneless chicken thighs, diced them up into bite-sized pieces and gently massaged them with half a teaspoon each of salt, ground black pepper and gochugaru (or any less hot ground pepper); left the protein to rest for 15 minutes after that.

Using a mortar and pestle, he crushed half an inch of ginger, 6 cloves of garlic and two green chilies into a coarse paste. 

In order to get the prepping done, first he thoroughly washed all the required vegetables and herbs. He then chopped up half a white onion and one-fourth a cup of leeks into julienne and a handful of spring onions (scallions) into one-inch long slices. He also diced up 200 grams of fresh crop button mushrooms and julienned a medium-sized carrot and kept them aside.

Shortly after, he turned on the hob top, placed a well-seasoned cast iron skillet on it and drizzled a teaspoon of olive oil in it. He sautéd the chicken in it for three minutes on low-medium heat and took it out the moment he saw a golden crust. 

After adding a heaping tablespoon of unsalted butter in the same skillet, he started sautéing the spring onions first, and then added the onions and leeks. Once the butter became aromatic and the herbs were soft and golden, he put in the ginger-garlic-chilli paste and mixed everything well for three minutes, not more. He maintained the heat on medium so that the aromatics didn’t burn. 

By then the raw stench from the herbs had changed into a deep, hunger-inducing fragrance. He quickly added the mushrooms and carrots and started folding everything in. He noticed the mushrooms had formed a crust. At this point, he added two tablespoons of all purpose flour and mixed the roux well for a minute on low heat. 

Now time for the star of the dish – the chicken! He added it in and folded everything again for three minutes. He sprinkled a teaspoon of chicken bouillon powder, a pinch of ground black pepper, and poured half a cup of hot water; after mixing everything, he put the lid on and let the chicken and vegetables cook for two minutes on medium heat.

He then poured in 400 ml of buttermilk and let it boil for two minutes on medium-low heat, with the lid on. He took off the lid after two minutes and tasted the stew to check for consistency and flavour. 

He added a pinch of salt to adjust the seasoning and another one-fourth cup of hot water; he put the lid back on for 10 minutes on low heat and let the stew simmer down to a silky, creamy and semi-thick consistency. 

Soon an enticing aroma filled the air; he knew right then that he’d done it! He turned off the heat but kept the lid on for another five minutes. And once the five minutes were over, he garnished the curry with chopped fresh mint and coriander leaves.

He’d even made some short-grain Japanese sticky rice to go with it. 

Fiji did it! He finally brought closure to an illness that turned out to be a blessing in disguise. He invited his friends over for lunch and couldn’t help but revel in the gushing praises that came along with them.