The bean grows inland, under a bald sun,

rationed water, one among plenty.

Fending off hungry pests and probing hands.

The coconut, parched of love,

sways in abundance,

lulled by the mellow rhythm of the sea.

The mustard

tiny, restless,

forever lost and found.

And then, they meet in a pan

greased with love and tenderness.

The mustard pops,

startling the silence with its pungent truth.

The bean yields its earthy, crisp sweetness.

The coconut enters

…meaty, insistent, a little bossy.

Each shaped by its own landscape,

each carrying the memory of its making.

Yet, stirred by a gentle hand,

they lean into one another - 

not dissolving, not diminished,

but shining apart and together,

a fleeting symphony of flavour,

a taste that lingers,

a beacon of the wizard’s art.