When David went to war with curry...

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I've never realized how really pungent the smell of curry can be. Funny how it can be such a deliciously, earthy and satisfying smell when you are eating the dish but it isn't so pleasant when you aren't eating it.

One of the problems of making curry entirely from scratch (using actual curry leaves and mustard seeds) is that the spices release a much more powerful smell than if you were to just open up a jar of pre-made curry paste or sauce. After my last curry cooking fiasco I learned a few things. First of all, if you plan to make curries from scratch, you really shouldn't cook indoors. Second of all, if you do make the curry indoors, make sure you have proper venting for your stovetop. Third of all, if you do make it indoors but don't have proper venting, you really shouldn't make it at all if you live in a small bachelor apartment where the smell will not only permeate your kitchen but also your entire living area and your clothes.

After cooking curry on the Sunday I walked into class, oblivious that the smell of curry had permeated my clothes. Somehow the smell disappears from consciousness after you sit in the room for a few minutes. You don't realize the smell is still there...but other people who walk into the room do.

I sat beside a buddy at school that I like to call "Princess Marta". He greeted me with his usual moniker for me: "Good morning, Brigadier-General Chun-Li Vonfinkelstein the Third". The story as to why he chose that nickname for me is a seperate story.

His nose wrinkled as he cautiously sniff-tested the air as I sat down beside him for class.

"What did you have this morning?"

"Sorry dude. I made curry last night. The smell must be in all my clothes now."

"Oh."

Then midway through class he turns to me with a completely straight face and says: "You know...I'd like to have you with some coconut cream and naan bread."

Spicy. *rowr*

I couldn't help but laugh out loud at that.

When I returned home I found the smell of curry still occupied my apartment. I cleaned everything taking extra care to wipe down the entire counter and stovetop and then the floors. I opened my windows and went for a walk outside. When I returned, to my dismay, the smell of curry was still there. It was as if it was mocking me. Taunting me. It had not gone away. And it staunchly declared that it was moving in with me whether I liked it or not.

The following day I bought a Glade Plugin Scented Oil. "Rainshower Mist". I think that's the scent I bought. I plugged it in and went to school.

When I returned, I was amazed. Amazed because the curry smell was still there. Along with the Rainshower Mist. That's the problem with these damn scented oils! They don't deodorize. They only try to cover up and overpower the offensive odour with perfume. Normally that strategy works against other smells. But when the smell you're trying to cover up is such a resiliant and tough little bastard like curry, it doesn't do the trick. It's like sending in peacekeepers into the nuclear battlefield. Totally inadequate. Total slaughterfest.

Great. So now my apartment smelled like a caravan of dusty curry and spice traders had frolicked in bathwater infused with rose petals. Sure it's all very exotic sounding but let me assure you it wasn't so pleasant smelling. In fact it was worse. Because now there were two competing smells that couldn't decide what they were. Were they a sweet perfumey kind of smell? Or were they a savoury spice kind of smell? Curry Rainshower Mist. It was the most schizophrenic of smells I have ever smelled. Sorta like the smell you get when you walk into an old building and each apartment you walk by contributes its own waft of smell into the hallway--so of course when you walk into the hallway it's all combining into this nightmare smogasbord of odours. Well that's was the odour in my apartment. A buffet of curry and spring flowers.

I decided that I would have to fight fire with fire. I would have to cook something else that would be as strong as the curry. Some ingredient that had an odour that was as tough and scrawny as the curry. What did I pick to cook? Bacon. Because I can't think of anything else that has a more pungent and more genuine smell than bacon. Bacon has that rich fatty and greasy smell that screams out "eat me for breakfast". It's not a smell that's particularly dignified or shy. If the smell of bacon was personified, it would be the stereotypical fat American with sweaty palms wearing a dirty shirt with armpit sweat stains. He'd shake your hand and tell you good jokes. Likeable but definately not healthy.

I cooked up a batch of bacon in my pan. After eating my bacon egg bacon and more bacon english muffin sandwich, I walked out into the hallway to normalize my sense of smell.

I walked back into my apartment.

The curry and spice traders were still there. And apparently it was still raining rose petals. But now I could distinctly tell that my spice travellers were not Muslim or Orthodox Jews. Turns out the spice traders had just sacrificed and roasted a pig to their gods in celebration of the glorious good fortune of having rainshowers in the middle of the parched desert.

Sigh.

To make a long story shorter...it took me two entire weeks before I was finally able to evict the smell of curry from my apartment. The smell of rainshowers is still going on strong however.

On a related note, the hallway of my building still smells like curry.

Posted by Dave at March 18, 2004 02:05 AM