Taarrank (Two-Pots) Chitnis arrived in Nambucca Heads on the 23rd of July in 1998. From India, Faridabad in Haryana state to be precise. Paperwork a little suspect.
Taarrank was twenty-seven years old and all alone in town, both parents long dead, his two brothers and one sister had traveled north from home and slipped into France in the back of a container. He hopes they made it. Enough said.
Taarrank could only cook, and would only cook curry, and only one curry at that. Madras curry.
The O’Brien brothers took him across the estuary after the local St. Vincent De Paul outfit found Taarrank sleeping rough by the river. This was after he had told them he was the best Madras cook in India. That was about the strength of his English.
To prove it he showed them his two pots, both battered and blackened from woodfire on the outside yet scrubbed silver inside.
So the brothers named him Two-Pots on the spot, and after shelling out thirty dollars for the shopping they waited for the Vinnies bloke and Two-Pots to get back to the river with the makings.
Tom O’Brien remembers the preparation.
‘ The bloke’s got a bag of food half his size and after me and Geoff got a good fire started for him over the other side he’s chucked about half-a-dozen chicken pieces into one pot and a chopped up carrot and onion in the other – after splashing a little veggie oil down – that done he lays out all the tucker on a couple of towels and arranges it into some sort of order. Fussy little bloke and not too strong on the English. Just as well the tins and jars had pictures on them.
So as soon as the chooks were cooked, he whips them out and cleans the pot, then fills it with water and tosses in a couple of spuds and six eggs – lets that rip for a while.
Now he’s seen that the carrots and onions are soft and that’s when he lobs in two big spoons of this Madras Curry Paste, the stuff comes out of a bottle over here. He stirs the bastard up hard, and, mate, the smell of it would make an sharks’ eyes water. This is a BIG chilli number so help me.
Then it’s bang smash wallop. In goes everybloodything.
A can of diced tomatoes, a can of tomato soup, a big spoon of tomato paste – you’d swear the little bastard was boiling blood!
Then, in go some lime leaves and a good squirt of fish oil, then half a bag of frozen peas and he’s stripped off the kernels of two big ears of corn and in they all go, then a bloody sliced up zucchini, then the cooked chook, all ripped up into fair sized chunks. The little bloke sorts food as quick as a Baccarat dealer sorts cards. Smiles a lot too. Beats me how a bloke can stay squatted down for so long.
That done he has a taste, screws up his face, and lobs in a big pinch or three of brown sugar. The little bloke was raising a sweat by now and Geoff and me are beginning to like the look of him. The smell coming out of the pot was beginning to take shape as well.
The spuds are done, so after slicing them into quarters in they go, and the hard-boiled eggs are peeled and same for them. Then he opens a large can of coconut milk and eases that into the mix with a handful of chopped up coriander.
Now it’s time to go for a walk he says, one hour please men. So we go. He stays. One hour around the back-beach should be enough for a few quick waves.
When we get back Two-Pots had refilled the spud pot with water and banged in some Basmati rice.
Then out come the plates, out comes the bananas and yogurt, a handful of raisens and a cup of lychees. These are his side-dishes.
And he was right the little bastard, he probably is the best Madras curry cook in India, and Nambucca for sure.’
- the end result
