Tambran; the word evokes memories
of stories and food from my childhood that are unforgettable. I remember the
sweet and the sour tastes, the hint of pepper and garlic and all the sugar that
engulfed my mouth as a child. I remember licking the melted sugar off of my
fingers until I couldn’t taste any more of the delectable treat.
When I was a kid, one of the
comfort foods that my mom made was Tambran (Tamarind) balls. The preparation of
this treat was absolutely alien to me but it didn’t stop me from eating it
until I couldn’t phantom the thought of food or even eating again. My mother
has told me that it is mashed together with pepper, salt, garlic, and sugar
then rolled into balls and covered in more sugar. They were so big they fit in
the entirety of my tiny palms. I couldn’t have been happier with seeing it
sitting in my hand waiting to be devoured.
It was a combination of both sweet and
sour, but there was a savory taste to it from the garlic, salt and pepper. It was
“tangy”. I loved every bit of it. It was one of those things I couldn’t wait to
get home to eat. The brown balls lay on top of each other in the container
mocking my tiny belly. I caved at the temptations.
Along with its flavors and joy,
Tambran balls came with great stories. There are superstitions that were told
about the trees of Tamarind. I remember being told that no one was allowed to
be in or under a tamarind tree after noon but no one truly knew the reason for
this. Many have speculated about “backoos” or ghosts but I was surely not going
to find out the true reasons.
I basked in the moment; enjoying
the burn of the pepper, the sweet of the sugar, and the sour of the tambran
ball. I loved finishing the treat to find a dark brown and black pattern seed
that was as smooth as a wooden floor. It was as hard as a rock and one of the
most fascinating things I have ever seen as a child. It was an interestingly
flavored food that was a part of my culture. It was rich in flavors and history.
I couldn’t think of anything better as a child than eating Tambran balls and
enjoying the chills that traveled through me from the stories about my food.
I haven’t eaten a Tambran ball in
quite a few years but I’m sure that the next time I taste one, I will become
that little girl again; the little girl that couldn’t have enough of this treat
or the stories that made me want to crawl into corners. I am also certain that
the seed will still be as enticing to my curiosity as it was when I was
younger.
