The sweetestest sweet

Avid readers of my writings, who total the grand number two including me and professional blog reader Chinirvilasa Sinnaserthambi (Chinirvilasa Sinnaserthambi in short, who is paid for his efforts by who else, me), will recollect that a few months ago, in a moment of extreme generosity following a divine meal of curd rice and chicken curry, I Madhavankutty Pillai, aka Madhavankutty Pillai, had divulged the secret of the best chicken curry in the whole world, so far held within the confines of my lonely scarred heart and which was only to be revealed when the seven fingered sailor with a rhombus of lapis lazuli in his left hand would accost me on the steps of the Seafarers Union headquarters and say, " Chai Mein Adhrak Dalo. "

Dear Chinirvilasa Sinnaserthambi, since you are my only reader (besides me, of course) you will remember that I, who was so overcome with the taste of that chicken curry (which I made and ate all by myself as my taste buds and gastric juices leapt out and started kissing me in ecstasy) threw caution to the south-west monsoon wind then and spelt out the recipe and it remains there hidden in the archives of this blog, like gold is hidden at the end of seven coloured rainbows near the magenta band if I remember correctly but it could be near the yellow too.

Why do I recollect all this? Because time has not made me any the wiser and the seven fingered sailor is going to be disappointed again because today, I Madhavankutty Pillai, aka Madhavankutty Pillai, is going to reveal another recipe. May I preface it by stating that I am a chocolate fundamentalist who believes that anything that is sweet and worth consuming is related to chocolate and that too by no further than the third degree of consanguinity. However, this Saturday my long cherished ideal and idea took a beating because I, with my own very hands, ably helped by an LG microwave oven, made the sweetestest sweet dish in the whole world and before I change my mind, let me tell you Chinirvilasa Sinnaserthambi, how it is made.

You need Nendrapazham, also called Malabar bananas, which are, you guessed right, bananas usually found off the coast of Kerala and also in shops run by Malayalees and sometimes Tamilians. It's slightly, sorry much much, longer than your normal banana and an essential ingredient if you want to make and, more importantly, eat the sweetestest sweet dish in the whole world. If you don’t get this banana, then tough luck, eat custard you bas****.

Now slice the bananas into two and then steam it, in the microwave or pressure cooker or stove or, if you like to do it the traditional way, by beating two stones together until there's a spark and etc.

Having steamed it cut it into small thick slices and then deep fry them in lots of coconut oil. Fry them enough so that there is a hint of brown. Do not overdo it and make it crisp.

Take it out, sprinkle lots of sugar and then add a little water and toss the bananas up and down, left and right till the sugar and water melt into the hot hot fried banana slices.

All this is more or less known to every good thinking and law abiding Indian and if you didn’t know it Sinnaserthambi, you dog, it is because you are neither good thinking nor law abiding.

Now for the Madhavankutty touch. Pour some honey over it. Not too much, maybe three or four tablespoon and then toss it up and down and left and right.

That's it. Eat.