History & Herons

South Indian Meals

The vegetables were neatly sliced & diced, the tomatoes were pureed, the tamarind was soaked, the rice was boiling merrily, the rasam was simmering gently at first and then with a ferocity matching the chillies in them. A South Indian meal was in progress. We do not set much store by one-pot meals in South Indian cuisine, and consequently all the burners were on. 

Efficiency. A production. An orchestra. 

I was listening to an audible book on The History of the United States  that was making me gasp in places, as I cooked.

After one particularly intense chapter ended, I stopped the podcast. In the ensuing silence an image arose in my mind.

Unbidden, unhurried, and unsullied. 

The gray heron

It was from my morning walk. Before the frenzied cooking spree to get food on the table. 

The gray heron. 

I have seen many gray herons. The common refrain in the household is that I have more photographs of the herons and egrets than I do of the children. This one, though, was the very first time I saw a heron go in for the kill at close quarters. 

The heron was less than 5 feet away. Standing still immersed in knee deep waters. Stark against the morning light. It was still cold – January colds of California – and then, slowly it waded into the waters a little more. Stealth. Strategy. And then, in one swift motion, it plunged its impressive beak into the water, and caught a shimmering fish in its beak. 

A second later, the fish was eaten, and it went back to standing in the waters. 

Whoa!

I couldn’t help contrasting the efficiency and speed of the heron’s meal against the one I was preparing. Dozens of spices, different boiling points, cutting angles for the vegetables, the right consistency, the right temperature, the right time, the right ingredients. 

In fairness, the heron was also probably listening to its version of American History from the walkers nearby, as it contemplated and went after its meal. All those opinions and snippets on Noble Peace Prizes, Venezuela and Greenland. But there, the comparison ended. 

Now, I cannot compare the taste – was the fish as tasty to the heron as the meal I had made was to our palates? I honestly cannot say. But the heron seemed content enough. When later, the family gathered around for lunch, they seemed content enough too. Wasn’t that the point?