Ingredients:
Grind everything up, and maybe add water if absolutely needed. You want MINIMAL wateriness for sandwiches, or they’ll get soggy.
I got this absolutely scrumptious recipe for pudina chutney from my lovely mother! You know those dreams where you’re being haunted by the names and faces of the people who’ve died by your hand? Me too. It’s NOT fun. Three months ago, I called my mom to tell her how I was starting to see people in 80s clothing, and we were going through the scrapbooks she made of all my first kills to see if we could recognize them.
(I can’t believe how much work my mom put into documenting our childhoods! I can barely keep up with Baby, and my mom was making meticulous scrapbooks of each person my sister and I killed until we were eleven! She even has little scraps of bloody fabric, and kept the first bullet I ever fired <3
I wish I could be so on top of things, but it’s all I can do to clean up the stains and pour a glass of blood-wine when I get home 🤪 Thank GOD Baby is still learning how to hold knives the right way!)
Anyway, we couldn’t place some of the people haunting me, but they could be victims of my mom. I hate dealing with those generational curses, ughhh. So I asked for this chutney recipe, because there’s nothing to take your mind off the withered, blood-drained faces of the dead like a good cucumber sandwich (made on white bread, of course! We forgo gluten free for this, it’s like a little cheat meal!). If sandwiches aren’t your thing, mix this chutney into a little perugu/dahi (plain yogurt, to anglophones), compensate for salt + jeera powder, and you’ve got a lovely dip! Even better if you drain the perugu beforehand – it turns out deliciously thick!