Guyanese soup and the sense of smell…how the work of a writer unfolds.
A whiff of any Guyanese soup immediately pelts me back in time, right back to 1973. There you will find five-year-old me sitting at the dining table. Blowing into an enamel bowl emanating the mouthwatering scents of my sister’s Beef and Pumpkin soup.
Said sister is behind me at the one-burner kerosene stove, ladling soup into a line-up of bowls, calling each child one at a time. Our mama is in the lone armchair, alternating between reading a novel and darning a pile of holey socks. The soft crooning of Patsy Cline reminiscing of a love that makes her go walking after midnight washes over me as I poke at a chewy dumpling, and then lick my burnt finger.
Music caressed our ears with the sounds pouring out of the old 1950s stereo. When mama’s boss had thrown it out, she had rescued it and brought her love of music back into our lives, again. Jim Reeves and his scarlet ribbons, Mahalia Jackson in the upper room with Jesus. And then soon enough, the strings and guitars and the soulful-passionate voice of Conway Twitty stole the rest of our Sunday. Until we had to leave for the 4:30 Mass at Our Lady of Fatima church in Bourda.
The heady aromas of a Sunday morning Guyanese Soup bubbling on the stove is something only a Guyanese could relate to; that special scent of root vegetables mingling with earthy thyme and sassy wiri-wiri peppers is incomparable. No established cuisine could lay claim to that soup.
More than that, nothing can trigger memory more powerfully than a fleeting whiff of a moment seared into our lives.
Writing begs for the five senses to come alive on the pages. The evocative, compelling images we paint with words can only ever truly be triggered with a scent, and yet scent is the most difficult sense to incorporate when we write, isn’t it? Smell can repel, or it can lift you up and take you away to a safe place.
An aroma is like a tiny ethereal bubble holding a thousand words within. Like an atom about to explode into a thousand stars that will scatter far and wide leaving its words written across the night skies forevermore.
Writers use all kinds of natural tools to harness the words they wish to immortalise; illegible notes on crumpled tissue, or any scrap of paper that was in their reach way back when.
Me? I write with a sense of awe, as though even I am surprised at the story being painted right under my nose, well I never!
Smelling something familiar is not enough to trigger a long and beautiful story, we must harness the memory, reel it in lovingly, and kiss it to make magic happen. Smell is the most powerful of all our senses, yet it is the most elusive to put into words, that said, don’t ever forget to add the scent of your piece.
That Guyanese Soup starts with the fragrance of onions sizzling gently releasing its pungent aroma at first, as the heat sizzles, the onions are caramelized to a sweet sacrifice. Then other aromatics are added, plus the cubes of fresh beef that was marinating in a green seasoning. In goes the beef broth and the long boling commences. An hour later, cubed pumpkin is added to the long simmer. When that is melted and the beef is fork-tender…
…Prepared cassava, eddoes, plantains, loads of thyme, wiri-wiri peppers are thrown in, and the wait begins…and just 5 minutes before the flame is turned down…in goes the dumplings…
…and there I remain, five-year-old-me waiting for her Sunday morning Guyanese Soup.
Sam Bacchus, weaver of words.
Check out this video for another delicious soup!