An Hour in Priscilla’s Kitchen

Somewhere near the Bay of Bengal in southern India, a drive of about 15-minutes full of lowing cattle and shepherds tapping goats with longs sticks and bleating horns from tuktuk drivers and mystical stone carvings, there is a children’s home surrounded by a concrete wall. In this compound you will discover many things and many purposes but please find Priscilla’s kitchen. If you spend one hour in Priscilla’s kitchen, a square of mildewed concrete about ten feet by twelve, you might learn about authentic Indian cooking, but you might not remember much about that because you might also experience any, or all, of the following things:  Priscilla sits on her wooden chair, pushed right against the back cabinets to make room for the cooks. She has a cutting board on her lap and is peeling cloves of garlic with her fingers.  Two women, chopping vegetables together at the countertop, maybe three feet in length. Their voices are low and soft, but their laughter rings through the barred window and spills right out into the open air where the turkey is picking through kitchen scraps.  A tiny lizard dashes out of sight as the quarter inch plywood is…



Continue Reading →