#CookingIsASeriousBusiness

[not-glorfindel-stop-asking]

This Mango Dish Changed My Life (And Ruined Eredin’s Day)

Eredin was glowing with triumph when he returned from the market today, clutching a single, perfect big mango like he had personally plucked it from the hands of the Valar themselves.

A rare find, a treasure beyond compare, a golden orb of culinary possibility! He held it aloft as though it were a Silmaril, his eyes alight with the promise of something truly extraordinary.

"I shall make chutney," he declared, with all the solemnity of an oath sworn before the stars.

And thus, the great endeavor began.

Spices were gathered. The honey was selected with reverence. A careful balance of heat and sweetness was plotted. The air filled with the rich perfume of turmeric, curry seeds, and caramelizing fruit. It was all going beautifully. Until.

I heard quiet sniffling from the kitchen. A soft, tragic sound. My heart lurched. What had happened? Had he burned himself? Had disaster struck?

I rushed to investigate—only to find poor Eredin at the counter, tears streaming down his face, looking utterly devastated.

"Eredin, what’s wrong?!" I cried, already preparing for calamity.

He turned to me with red-rimmed eyes and simply pointed to the cutting board.

The culprit?

An onion.

The chutney was safe. The recipe was progressing as planned. But Eredin, poor Eredin, was suffering in battle against a most formidable opponent.

I attempted to offer him relief, passing him a damp cloth to wipe his eyes and advising him to breathe through his mouth, but he waved me off with all the dignity he could muster.

"No," he sniffled. "I must press on. I need to add it to the chutney."

A warrior, truly.

The chutney? Delicious. A masterpiece. A divine blend of warmth, sweetness, and spice, fit for the high table of Imladris itself.

The onions? His sworn nemesis, now and forever.

NB: I beg of thee—nay, I implore thee—ask him for the recipe. It was divine. A revelation. A gift to all who enjoy sweet and spicy perfection. If you do not, I shall weep as he did (but with far less dignity).