Did you know the East Indian Bottle Masala includes as many as 27 spices, or that an oil-free pickle served at their weddings is actually known as Wedding Pickle?

These and many such authentic East Indian masalas and pickles are available at East Indian Cozinha (Portuguese for kitchen), a food store started by Christina Kinny at Kolovery Village in Kalina, Santacruz. "I started East Indian Cozinha with an attempt to preserve and highlight our cuisine and culture," says the 24-year old, who has studied Masters in Social Work and currently, works with an enterprise that helps tribal farmers.

What’s in store?

Going back 500 years, the East Indian cuisine enjoys influences from Portuguese, British and Maharashtrian fare. The staples include rice, coconut, tamarind, fish and meats, with spices forming an integral part of the cuisine. For instance, Prawn Atola is a dry dish comprising prawns coated only with Vindaloo Masala featuring Kashmiri chilli, cumin and turmeric. "Most people from our community were farmers and would be out on field all day. So, the masalas and lemon would help preserve their food for a longer time," reasons Kinny.

At present, the store stocks six varieties of masala in 100g bottles (R150 onwards). These include Khuddi or Bottle Masala, Chinchoni (fish) Masala, Vindaloo Masala, Roast Rub, Kujit Masala and Tem Che Rose. She also offers Wedding Pickle, an oil-free variety prepared with raw papaya, carrots and dry dates. "All the recipes have been passed on from generations and are homemade," she informs.

However, making the masalas is no cakewalk. "It takes three days to dry spices under the sun. Then, we hand pound them and pack them tightly in bottles with wider openings," says Kinny. She recalls that in her grandmother’s time, the masalas were tightly stuffed in beer bottles. The bottles were darker, and hence, helped preserve the masala for at least a year, at room temperature.

Lugra love

East Indian Cozinha also stocks traditional 10-yard saris known as lugras. These are hand embroidered by Kinny’s mother, Carol. Previously made only from cotton with authentic gold borders, now, lugras are embroidered with sequins and threads. "She has been in the garment industry for the last 30 years. She also makes traditional accessories like kapotas (earrings), karis (hair pins), anklets, etc," informs Kinny.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses

moo moo moo
a dozen milky cows squirt
it all over the fields
while the silly earthworms shake their heads

and see round the corner
comes Lulu
eating vindaloo

boo boo boo
the hot-air ghosts
float at ATMs
while the recorded message goes:
more more more
more easy cash for you

and see round the corner
comes Lulu
eating vindaloo

baa baa baa
forty sheep
each eat the fields bald;
oink oink oink
the pigs wait for it to rain

and see round the corner
comes Lulu
eating vindaloo

I built me a yellowish
statue of you
out of last nights curry
and the cheese fondue.

Your *** was madras
your **** vindaloo
and stilton is what
yer built on.

WHOOP DE FUKIN DOO !!!!!,

She drives me crazy!
That little care-free Jalfrezi.
You see where I’m going with the curry?
‘Course you don’t, you’re ******* vindaloo!
Who the **** are you?
And as for Tarka Daal and Argy Bargy?
If they ever get off the carzy we might be able to talk.
So are you ******* listening?
She drives me crazy!
Both of you are too stupidily lazy,
Nor are you like Jalfrezi.
Re-arrange; re-word the last two lines?
Yeah right, I’m Mr Lazy.

The fiery rumblings in my bloated belly
  mean I simply must blow off a smelly;
And, having just consumed a Vindaloo,
  I'm fearful of a major follow-through;
But it's one of those really lucky nights -
  I'm wearing my uncle's open-crotch tights,
Not correctly, as is my usual wont
  But, thank Christ, they're back to front.

The fiery rumblings in my bloated belly
  mean I simply must blow off a smelly;
And, having just consumed a Vindaloo,
  I'm fearful of a major follow-through;
But it's one of those really lucky nights -
  I'm wearing my uncle's open-crotch tights.

Cheque please


You are better than me,
You are quicker than me,
You are more intelligent than me,
Or is it I?  See?
I am worse than you at everything that I do.
I want a vindaloo, but it is three in the morning,
And when I should be snoring, I am wide awake.


Filling another book, look.
It’s twenty something or other;
Lost count now.  Onto another.
Give this one away, can’t be bothered to write it.
Poetry is easy.
Life is in bits.


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

it's curry night at my place
come over if you dare
of ****** maybe just in case
bring an extra pair

to start I'll serve a rogan josh
then tikka masala
you'll hear loud screams of oh gosh
then prayers to god and allah

and you'll learn about a dish
its called a vindaloo
and why first mouthful's so delish
but then it ends with loo

so tomorrow sunday morning
the church bells will be ringing
bellowing out a warning
of your impending high pitched singing

The Hoodie Crows love leftover Vindaloo
and I make it hot laced with Kashmiri Chillies
but still they come each time I lay their table
and I bide them Welcome, eat your fill for free.

The Drag-on Dragon Queen

A dragon, with drag on
Although rarely seen
Beneath its scaly skin
She was a dragon queen

She danced the dance fandango
Whilst eating vindaloo
Her firey farts, lit up the sky
And caused a hullabaloo

The dragon king, saw these shenanigans
And thought them rather daft
But despite his better judgement
He laughed, and laughed, and laughed

The dragon king, then joined his sister
Putting on a pink tutu
Quaffed some ale, and cider
And ate some vindaloo

What happened next, i cannot say
And it cannot even be guessed
But by all accounts, it didn't end well
AS dragons with drag on, will never be a-dressed

by Jemia

When i leave
My mortal coil
I would love to think
That mourners, do not toil
But instead, are awash with colour
With flowers in their hair
Created at home
Or from an art group flair
No cut flowers
If can do
Let natures beauty
Remain alive, and true
I would prefer my burial
To be green
But realise that this
Would be a costly dream
Although i have no religious views
Folk could express, their own adieus
My greatest wish
Is to leave love
For all of you
And this love
Will remain as true
And as hot
As a Vindaloo
As i drift off
Into an ethereal mist
And dance with the fairies
Drinking mead
And getting ******

by Jemia

Oh, isn't this a sorry state ?
We must no longer salivate,
For food that's deemed unfit to eat,
Like burgers, pizzas, and red meat.
Throw all your frying pans away
But don't forget your five a day
Forget about pate de fois
Just eat mange tout and petit  pois
Without it Chinese food's not great
That mono-sodium glutinate
Remember if you feel forlorn
There are those strips of tasteless quorn.
Don’t be a meat barbarian
Become a vegetarian.
From early childhood, through my teens,
I gagged on all those ghastly greens.
And when I close my eyes I see
Those parboiled spears of broccoli.
How could I possibly forget
Stuffed aubergine and baked courgette?
I am and will be evermore
An unrepentant carnivore.
Con carne with rice? now, don’t be silly
You need a plate of three bean chilli.
I must confess, it’s not long since
I ate a bowl of proper mince.
O, what is life so full of care,
When we can only stand and stare
At treacle sponge and drizzle cake
And ice cream with a chocolate flake.
Next, will the nation’s favourite dish
Of greasy chips and battered fish
With mushy peas on top be banned
In England’s green and pleasant land?
And in the village bakery
Can we still buy cream cakes for tea?

No butter on my toast or muffin?
No crackling, no more sausage stuffing?
As each day passes how I dream
Of scones with jam and clotted cream.
Should I eat fries and a Big Mac?
Will that bring on a heart attack?
Shall I really come to grief
From Yorkshire pudding and roast beef?
Is it true that I might die
From eating steak and kidney pie?
Has it really come to this?
So many things to give a miss.
It’s time for take-away again
A spicy Singapore chow mien
I'm hungry, I could eat a horse
with chips and sweet and sour sauce
So many choices drive me crazy
Now I'm thinking beef jalfrezi
With pilau rice and nan bread,too
Or, maybe a chicken vindaloo.
Then to finish with, I think,
Some ice cream and a fizzy drink.
Then maybe later, if you please,
Some biscuits with some stinky cheese.
Then, though I really I didn’t ought
I’ll wash it down with vintage port.
People like me are branded fools,
Who never did obey the rules.
Am I so foolish? Pray, do tell
I’m nearly eighty, and quite well.
Maybe I eat foods I should not
But am I bothered?,not a lot.
“Eat and enjoy” is what I say
And live to eat another day.
Today I have no time for sorrow,
True, I might not wake tomorrow.
If I do then I will treasure
All the things that give me pleasure
I never could get sentimental
For breakfast a la continental
I'll get up slowly,take my ease.
And breakfast?  Cooked, full English, please.

Copyright @ W. F. Randle May 2020

I wonder if vampires
***, or poo
With so much quaffing
Of claret, or blood
If they bite me
My blood may be
Either honey Mead
Or Vindaloo
Flavour
Which could turn them
Kind of funny
And not much to savour
Fang you very much

by Jemia

Learning to levitate
so far has not been easy
I smashed my wine glass and a plate
and it made me dizzy

I thought it had worked on my cat
when he jumped in the air
but I think it turns out that
he freaked out from my stare

Then suddenly out of the blue
you lifted off the ground
after eating my home made vindaloo
and accompanied with a sound

i told her i'm a poet
that i write from the heart
but my latest poem no way i can show it
it's title is "the ****"

i told her that my words are serious
and my poetry complicated
but they were written when i was delirious
and oh so heavily inebriated

i told her that i got a prize
when a contest my poem won
but she doesn't know or realise
of participants there was just one

i told her i'll write for her too
so i think i better hurry
soon as i stop farting from that vindaloo
and last nights spicy chicken curry