The outward bound passenger to India is generally very favourably struck by the curry presented to him at a Ceylon hostelry. Heartily weary of the cuisine on boardship, at that period of his voyage, he would probably welcome any change with thankfulness. The prospect of a little meal ashore, "be it ever so humble," is therefore especially enjoyable to him. It may, of course, be said that in such circumstances the traveller is predisposed to deliver a kindly verdict; and that if the dish that pleased him so much in the hour of his emancipation from cuddy barbarisms were placed before him after a proper course of civilized diet, it would, by no means produce such an agreeable impression. It would, at all events, lack the charm of contrast, which, in the particular instance before us, could hardly fail to excite the wannest feelings of gratitude and satisfaction.

The nautical curry is not, as a rule, a plat to dream of, - a triumph to look back upon pleasurably, that is to say, with the half-closed eye of a connoisseur. A sea-faring friend with whom I once made a very cheery voyage, graphically described the composition as "yellow Irish stew." Those whose memory is retentive of trifles will no doubt call to mind without difficulty a bright saffron-tinted swill, covering sundry knotty lumps of potato and a few bony atoms of mutton, with its surface beflecked, if I may so describe it, with glossy discs of molten grease. Not exactly the sort of dish to tempt a lady, still slightly affected by mal-de-mer, who has been urged by her stewardess to rouse herself, "poor dear," and try and eat something. Having had this mess thrust before him day after day for three weeks, no wonder that the "vacuus viator" finds something in the curry of Ceylon to delight him.

"Good! said I to myself, cheered at the sight" (a plump, freshly-roasted leveret), wrote Brillat Savarin concerning his experiences of a journey; "I am not entirely abandoned by Providence : a traveller may gather a flower by the way-side."

Regarding the Ceylon curry, then, as a "flower by the way-side," let us proceed to consider its composition with all due attention. As I observed in my last chapter, the dish is quite a specialite, peculiar originally to places where the cocoanut is extensively grown and appreciated. It is known by some as the "Malay curry," and it is closely allied to the moli of the Tamils of Southern India. Though best adapted for the treatment of shell-fish, ordinary fish, and vegetables of the cucumis or gourd family, it may be advantageously tried with chicken, or any nice white meat. "We can describe it as a species of fricassee, rich with the nutty juice of the cocoanut, and very delicately flavoured with certain mild condiments. It ought to be by no means peppery or hot, though thin strips of red and green chilli-skin or capsicum may be associated with it. It therefore possesses characteristics very different from those of an ordinary curry. The knotty point is the treatment and application of the cocoanut, which should be as fresh and juicy as possible, and of which there should be no stint.

In places where cocoanuts cannot be readily procured.

a very good "mock" Ceylon curry can be made with the milk of almonds, and from Brazil nuts an infusion can be concocted that very much resembles cocoanut milk.

The condiments employed are onions, a very little garlic, green ginger, turmeric powder, a little powdered cinnamon and cloves, and the chilli strips aforesaid. Coriander-seed, cummin-seed, cardomoms, fenugreek, chilli-powder, poppy-seed, etc., ought, on no account, to be used.

The most agreeable combinations are prawns with cucumber, crab with vegetable marrow, or any firm-fleshed fish or tender chicken with either of those vegetables. For example, I will select a prawn and cucumber curry :-

(a) - Take a good-sized cucumber, or two small ones, cut them lengthwise into quarters, remove the seeds, and peel off the green skin. Cut them into pieces two inches long and one inch thick, and put them into a stew-pan with plenty of water, half an ounce of butter, and a tea-spoonful of salt. Simmer them until three parts done; then drain the liquid off, and turn the pieces of cucumber out upon a clean dish, and cover them up.

(b) - The prawns should be prepared very carefully; and here permit me to observe that if prawns are fresh, and properly cleaned, no evil effects need be dreaded by those who look upon them as dangerous. Throw two table-spoonfuls of salt into a gallon of water, put the pan on the fire, and when the water boils fast, slip into it about a pound and a half of prawns weighed in their shells. Boil, and as soon as the prawns turn a rosy pink, stop, drain them from the water, let them get cold, and shell them, removing their heads completely. Next pass a knife down the line of the back of each prawn, slightly open the groove as it were, and pick out of it the black gritty dirt that you will find there. Carry out a similar process with the inner line, and cast the cleaned prawns into a basin of spring water. Having washed them again thoroughly, pick them out, and dry them on a cloth. If very large, you must now divide them in halves length-wise, and sever each half in twain. Dust them over with flour, and put them on a dish. They are now ready.

(c) - Choose a very large cocoanut, the fresher the better, break it in half, and, with a cocoanut scraper, remove the whole of the white flesh, casting it into a bowl. Upon the raspings thus obtained, pour a breakfast-cupful of boiling-water, leave it for a quarter of an hour, and then strain the liquid off. This is the best or "number one" infusion, which must be put away, and not added to the curry till the last thing before serving. Return the raspings to their bowl, and pour over them a pint and a half of boiling water, stir well, and let the liquid stand for half an hour. It should then be strained, and the nutty atoms squeezed dry in muslin, so that every drop of the cocoanut essence may be secured. The liquor thus obtained is the "num-ber two" infusion. Our preparations are now complete.