Friday Fodder – Rumour

Coriander. Cardamom. Turmeric. Saffron. Most of the spices and herbs were clearly labelled. They had little handwritten notes tied around the necks of their glass shakers. Yet, one bottle sat apart from the others. It was a tiny, crystalline thing that held some sort brown or yellow substance that Dan couldn’t place. He watched Salina use the unlabelled bottle multiple times as she prepared the meal. He meticulously counted when and where she sprinkled that container, particularly wary of its contents. Dan feared she might poison him.

Salina swayed and hummed in front of the stove, narrating her recipe as she went. She spoke over her shoulder about onion and cumin and tomato and the like. The clanging of spoons and cast-iron pans drowned out her voice, but it all went over Dan’s head anyway. He was never much of a cook.

He sat at Salina’s kitchen table watching steam plume over her head. She was making Masoor Dal because she found out it was Dan’s favourite since his adventures throughout India and the Orient. How she figured that out, he would never know – but she was right.

She opened all the windows, yet her little cottage remained awash with all the spicy aromas. The dried chilies simmered; Dan tasted them in the air and his mouth began to water. Salina was the perfect complement to her little broiling kitchen. Swaying her hips in a tattered apron, isolated amongst the trees with her cast iron artillery. She grew her own peppers out the front and a row of pumpkins trailed down the side of the house. Their aromas mingled with the other ingredients in the pot and danced about the kitchen, teasing all of Dan’s senses. He straightened his shirt, hoping he wasn’t too overdressed for the occasion.

“Just a minute more,” she sang out, stirring the pot. “I meant to have it ready when you arrived.”

“Well, I was early.”

“That you were.” She laughed.

She must have thought Dan was particularly eager to see her, and really he was. He desperately wanted to arrive in time to watch her cook. It wasn’t often that Salina invited people all the way out here. They had been neighbours for a long while, so long as an eight-kilometre distance was still considered neighbourly. Dan had an apartment in the village, while Salina lived up in the mountains. They met every so often in town. Everyone knew of Miss Salina who enjoyed alpine living. But no one really knew her.

The kids in town called her a witch because she always wore a long, burgundy cloak and had a crooked nose. According to Salina, she’d earned the crooked nose from an enthusiastic high school hockey game. The cloak, she admitted to wearing simply to aggravate the rumours of her deals with the devil. She found her reputation for dark magic rather amusing.

Wouldn’t that be the perfect acquittal? Hiding it in plain sight?

In any case, Dan felt a little silly for indulging such antiquated beliefs. He mentioned to a friend that he was off to Salina’s for dinner and she threw a fit, convinced Dan would be lured to the woods and spoon-fed some kind of love potion. He laughed at the notion and told the florist about the accusation when he picked up the flowers, and he said he agreed! He looked Dan square in the face and told him Salina was planning to steal his heart. Dan couldn’t quite tell if he was joking, but the baker told Dan the same thing when he went out the day before. They all said Miss Salina would cook his favourite meal, then slip in a potion and steal his heart.

Dan decided it was ludicrous to believe in witches, and he arrived nice and early to watch Salina prepare the meal, just to be sure.

Salina served the dal on two plates, all the while humming a tune reminiscent of Hollywood’s heyday. It was fitting. Salina often moved like a movie star through the village. She turned heads, and not just for her isolation and magical mysteriousness. There was a glow about her, almost like a halo in the sunlight. Her feet danced and her eyes sparkled as if a camera was always pointed at her. Her humming was also endearing and Dan secretly wished she would sing something.

Leaving the unlabelled bottle by the spice rack, Salina slid a shallow, steaming dish of naan, yogurt, and pickles onto the table. It all smelled overwhelmingly divine. She threw her apron on a hook in the kitchen and sat across from Dan with a smile. Inhaling the scent, Dan thought the mystery spice must have taken some effect. In the back of his mind, he grew wary of Salina – the closer she came, the lovelier she seemed. The poison was certainly stealing Dan’s heart already.

“So what do you do up here?” he blurted out, stalling the commencement of the meal. He really had no plan to avoid whatever potion Salina had in store, but the least he could do was hesitate.

“You’re looking at it,” she smiled, helping herself to the dish. “I grow and I cook. I have a few customers in town that I visit twice a week. And at night I dance around naked in the woods summoning demons to thwart my enemies.” Salina mocked the wide gesture of a witch casting a spell. Dan gingerly chuckled along when he finally realised she was joking. 

“What do you do in town?” she asked.

“I’m a fixer.”

“Really? What do you fix?”

“Whatever people break, I guess.”

She laughed again. Dan felt relieved because he wasn’t typically amusing. Looking at Dan expectantly, she waited for him to eat. Dan obliged. The comforting texture and intoxicating aroma. Spices danced around his palate. The heat slapped his nerve receptors and the sweet aftertaste teased his every temptation for more.

“Do you like it?” she beamed.

“It’s absolutely delicious.”

“So I won’t have to drop a house on you after all,” she laughed, “I wanted to impress you.”

Dan set his fork down and met her eye. She leaned forward in her seat, gaze burrowing into his soul. “Impress me?” he repeated, utterly enchanted.

“Naturally.”

It must have been that unlabelled poison; Dan concluded Salina was a marvel. He hardly concerned himself with the witchery in the food. It was too late now, anyway. He felt affected only by Salina’s gaze. The magic of ancient days couldn’t hold a candle to the lure of her eyes. They held the wonderful darkness of the forest. The mystique of the towering trees and slithering brush lived in her as much as she lived in it. Dan loved how her crooked nose accented her smile. She spoke of the mountain and the history of it all. He tried to comprehend but somehow felt outside of himself. He couldn’t tear himself from the wonder of her voice.

Dan’s heart fluttered, and he instantly worried about the effects of the potion. Would she steal it now? Dan threw all caution to the wind. He no longer cared. He was now hers.

They cleared the table, but Dan couldn’t leave just yet. Salina procured a little, battery-powered radio with a long antenna. She flicked it on, and a crackled rendition of ‘Lady in Red’ rang out. Dan offered to dance. She obliged. Salina placed her hands on Dan’s shoulders, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. They twirled through the little kitchen on their toes. Dan felt light on his feet, floating, hovering. He couldn’t let her go for a good, long while. He suddenly wondered at the authenticity of the feeling. What if it was all just persuasion? A potion? A poison?

“Salina?” he said softly.

“Yes?”

“I meant to ask—what was in that bottle? The unlabelled one?”

“Oh?” She turned to spot the bottle by the stove. Picking it up, she uncorked it and took a dubious sniff. “Mustard seed. The tangy kind.”

Mustard seed? Dan laughed but did not tell her why. She had seasoned the dal with mustard seed. “Salina, I’d like to see you again soon.”

“I would like that. Glad I impressed,” she grinned, placing her hands on Dan’s shoulders once again.

They danced to the warble of the radio. As the songs grew dimmer, their dancing devolved into a light sway. The deep of night encroached and, confirming every rumour, Salina cast a wonderful spell over Dan, swiftly and gracefully stealing his heart.