My mother has an ode to cabbage and tomato bredie in her fingers, and she has the Milk Tart Express in her head, but her heart truly sings when she's preparing her famous chicken curry for us.
The roti she makes to go with the curry is also nothing like the cardboard-paste stuff you buy in the shops. It's soft and layered, it rises and puffs, and it demands to be eaten sooner rather than later.
We have a backyard vegetable garden. My mom's growing jalapeños now, opposite the celery. On my brother's side of the garden, you'll
