In the airport last week, the Krishnas came to collect a karmic debt I owed them. It's been a long time coming.
It took me off guard because he didn't look at all like the guy in Airplane. He called me over and handed me a cookbook, as if to say "surely you remember how delicious our cooking is? Ahem?" Except he didn't say that because he didn't actually know me. He was probably just channeling the chef from the Krishna house where I used to occasionally freeload.
If you've ever wondered how someone would get sucked into a cult, I think I can answer that. Or at least, I can tell you how I would get sucked into a cult, if ever one wanted me. I'd be the one saying "punch? I'd love some!" To date, no cults have expressed an interest. In fact, this particular organization was very polite about giving people a chance to scramble home before the... the... what are they? Services? Rituals? Ceremonies? No idea. I was on the porch, putting my shoes back on.
So. Back at the airport.
He handed me the cookbook and I recognized it as similar to a couple books I had once. I used to take them with me when meeting my sister's flights. I'd try giving them to her until she'd finally climb up on a chair and start yelling for security. Ah, good times.
Back to the present-day airport. I told him that I used to eat at one of their houses. He asked me how I knew about it and I said, "it's the house with all the shoes on the porch, silly." I don't actually remember how I knew to barge in on them at dinner time. It's a skill I have.
Anyway, I bought the book.
And I was all excited about using it, but the very first ingredient in the very first recipe is "4 scraped coriander roots." Are you kidding me? I will have cilantro/coriander in the garden this summer and NO WAY am I pulling it up and chopping off its roots. That's uncivilized. Why would you do something like that? Can you amputate roots without harming the plant? Should I start a hydroponic garden so I can harvest coriander roots without pulling up the whole plant?
This is why I let them do the cooking for me.
One of our musician friends came by the other night and saw my new book. She asked me if I had ever eaten at Govindas, which is a Hare Krishna restaurant. And then she asked me if I had any lemon balm. When I said no, she pulled a small plant out of her pocket. A plant she had pulled out of her garden. By the roots.
I had no idea she was part of a cult.