The sun was still asleep, the fisherman were not. And neither were the true and blue seafood fiends and restauranters who would buy bushels of fresh food and seafood fresh off the boat. The air was palpable with energy, the floors wet, the space awash with the light emnating from dirty flourescent bulbs and the noise so loud with the voices of bargaining people, you could hardy think.
It hardly matters that this memory is from one day three decades ago; it might as well have been yesterday.
My mother's shrimp kababs are from that time. We were at those docks that morning for the freshest shrimp for her kababs.
Like so many wonderful dishes from the world over, these lovely kababs that is a finest example of my Mum's cooking, is a handful of the freshest ingredients coming together to create tiny morsels bursting with freshness and flavor.
My mother used to grind the ingredients on her heavy granite sil-batta; Sil referring to flat stone and Batta referring to a cylindrical grinding stone.
Now, thanks modern technology I fix these 7000 miles away in a food processor. The results are just as good.
These however are made by my Mum in her own kitchen with her wonderful vintage, dented and aged brass kadhais (pots). And just like her pots, her recipe is ageless.