THROUGH MY EYES
BRIYANI OR BIRYANI? TOMAYTO, TOMAHTO, PAHTAYTO, POTAHTO...
At my uncle and aunt’s wedding, the first one I ever went to, they served huge pots of briyani. I was five at the time and to this day it is one of the best weddings I’ve ever attended. Children were running around. Everyone was relaxed and having fun. We ate from paper plates with our hands. My uncle and aunt are still together and very happy.
The lesson I learned, albeit with hindsight, is that simplicity is best. Hire a hall and don’t spend a fortune, nothing fancy, lots of food (briyani, preferably), good vibes and love are what you need to start a life together.
In South Africa, briyani is enjoyed by people of all races. Every year, without fail, my dad’s South African Taiwanese wife serves briyani at Chinese New Year. Purely based on that, I would like to suggest that we rename South Africa’s Heritage Day and call it Briyani Day instead of Boerewors Day aka Braai Day.
This is a love language.
Some people communicate with elaborate words and say they love you, out gestures communicate more powerfully who you are and how you feel.
Food is such a simple gesture. One of the best gifts. Poetry. I appreciate the time and effort and energy that go into preparing a meal. That someone puts into making something with you in mind. They shop, chop, prepare before and clean up and wash up after. And when you thank them, they say it was nothing.
This patha was fried by my aunt one morning when I visited for
