“I order lots of veggies,” Meena argued. “In the stir-fry form.”
Sabina gave a small smile. “Did you grow up eating like this?”
Meena adjusted a setting on her lens. “No. My mom cooked, but she wasn’t a gourmet. She liked the convenience of cans and boxes that only required heat and water. I didn’t really learn about spices and seasonings until college.”
“That’s a shame,” Sabina said. “You don’t make the full use of all of your taste buds if your only seasoning is salt.”
“My palate opened up when I started traveling. The first time I had Indian food was when I went to London to visit Zoe after college. Chicken tikka masala.”
“That’s British food, not Indian,” Sabina exclaimed.
“It was delicious either way,” Meena said. “I didn’t know what I was eating, couldn’t identify the spices, but I couldn’t stop. It was so good. I had the same thing every day for three days.”
“Today you’re about to have authentic Indian food, not co-opted or fused with other cultures. This is farmers’ food from where we come from. Simple, hearty.”
“Why are you drying the tapioca?”
“They come dry, then need to be soaked for a few hours. Once rinsed you spread them out on a towel to get rid of the excess moisture. If you cook them wet, they’ll turn into mush.”
“Can I try one?”
“It won’t taste like anything,” Sabina said. “You can help with the peanuts. I roasted them. You need to remove the skin. Take a handful, rub them between your palms, then pick the ones with no skin and put them in this bowl.”
Meena put the camera down and washed her hands before doing as instructed. It was a tedious job, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Sabina had intentionally left it for her.
“Sam and you, is there something going on?”
Meena concentrated on her task. “We’re friends.”
“You want to learn how to make his favorite dish,” Sabina said. “That’s very friendly.”
“We’ve gone out a few times.” More than that. In the last two weeks, she and Sam had had dinners in or out a few times a week that ended in sleepovers.
“Are you dating or are you boyfriend-girlfriend? I need you to be specific.”
Meena glanced at Sabina. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want to give Tanvi fifty dollars,” Sabina clarified. “If you’re only dating, that doesn’t count.”
“You bet on us?”
“Don’t be offended,” Sabina said. “We bet on everything.”
“Like what?”
“How long you would stay the first time. I made two hundred dollars because I bet you’d leave before Christmas. Then Uma wagered you’d be back for New Year’s Eve, so I made another hundred dollars. I also lost a hundred because I didn’t think Sam was going to keep Wally. And don’t give me that look. We bet on our things too, like Uma’s professor ratings.”
Meena let the betting slide, not surprised that they found entertainment everywhere.
“Anyway, we were talking about your upbringing, not about our gambling habit. What were some of your traditions?”
“My dad didn’t like ham,” Meena said. “For Easter my mom would make Reuben sandwiches. At Christmas we always had a real tree, even though the needles would get everywhere. We didn’t do anything like you all do here. Our celebrations were simple.”
“Have you spent any time in Ireland? I remember you saying your last name comes from Gaelic.”