Last May I went to Sandpoint, Idaho to be part of a loving bedside vigil for Aunti Randi, my mother's younger sister. She passed from this life as she had requested, looking out on the Pend Oreille River, surrounded by family and friends. During our stay, my cousins and I explored Aunti Randi's pantry and freezer - in part to see what was available for mealtime, but also as cultural anthropologists, investigating the ways artifacts reveal people's lives. We were not surprised to find bags of frozen rhubarb and berries, key ingredients in her famous Rhurazz jam. We noted a large basket in the pantry marked "curry fixings." Randi learned how to make curry early on in her marriage to please Uncle Roger who was born and raised in India, the son of medical missionaries. Several days ago I received a box in the mail from my Seattle cousins after they cleared out Aunti Randi's home before it was sold. Powerful smells and fond memories of curry dinners long ago flooded my senses. Proust had his madeleines but I have Aunti Randi's curry kit!
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