For some inexplicable reason it is always the case that when you’ve filled your trolley to the brim and carefully select what appears to be the fastest moving queue at the supermarket you inevitably get it wrong. Even when you move across the world the situation is no better. Somehow, despite racing up and down the row of cashiers, surveying the amount of shopping per belt and the speed with which it is being bagged, you get it wrong. You end up watching the cashier methodically retrieve every item the old couple before you have managed to heap onto the conveyor belt, study it, find the bar code, scan it, scan doesn’t work, so search again, spectacles on, tap in the number -beep! Onto the next. It’s a slow process but you have to admire her ability to remain completely unfazed by all the huffing and puffing, and there is some serious huffing and puffing going on at our end of the conveyor belt. Some minutes (which feel like hours) later it’s your turn. You start to think about dinner that night, and lunch the next day and your mouth starts watering. Then it suddenly strikes you! Despite having made various shopping lists, currently gathering dirt at the bottom of your handbag and having gone through each aisle half a dozen times you’ve somehow managed to forget salt. Off you run to find the salt aisle.
A few left turns later you reach the salt only your eye wanders off to its more interesting, sexy friend next door; Cumin. It doesn’t stop with Cumin, all her good chums are hanging around too: Ground Coriander, Mustard Seeds, Garam Masala, Turmeric… You hurriedly gather all the spices your good-little-Indian-girl arms can hold and run back to the till grabbing a small jar of salt on the way. The cashier picked up surprisingly good speed in the three minutes you’ve been gone and Hubs is lingering near the credit card machine but you shout “NO DON’T PAY!” and with that you throw down the bags of spices (and jar of salt) beaming at your spoils. Dinner just got a whole lot better.
At home you carefully unpack all the spices. Mouth watering again. Then you look a little closer at the almost forgotten jar of salt. “Funny looking salt” you think. You open the jar and pour a little out onto your hand and toss into your mouth. That is definitely not salt but it does have a familiar taste and almost immediately you go back for more when three little letters on the side of the jar catch your eye: MSG.
Hubs is going to love my cooking. It’s going to get enhanced by about five times.