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Sangu Mandanna Books

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The Lost Girl

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“I don't pretend to know much about people," she offered, fix-ing her eyes on the road ahead, "but one thing I've noticed over the years is that some people are nice and some people are kind. Lillian sounds like she's more nice than she is kind. Does that make sense? Niceness is good manners, and stopping to give someone direc-tions, and smiling at the overworked cashier at the supermarket. These are all good things, but they have nothing to do with what's underneath. Niceness is all about what we do when other people are looking. Kindness, on the other hand, runs deep. Kindness is what happens when no one's looking.”

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Book:The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches
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“I don't pretend to know much about people . . . but one thing I've noticed over the years is that some people are nice and some people are kind. Lillian sounds like she's more nice than she is kind. Does that make sense? Niceness is good manners, and stopping to give someone directions, and smiling at the overworked cashier at the supermarket. These are all good things, but they have nothing to do with what's underneath. Niceness is all about what we do when other people are looking. Kindness, on the other hand, runs deep. Kindness is what happens when no one's looking.”

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Book:The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches
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“Anna opened the box. Wow. Inside were four beautiful, freshly baked pastries. Anna didn't know what kind they were, but they looked and smelled utterly delicious. Two were in shades of green, the other two in shades of purple, and the warmth of them bled through the box and into her hands and chased some of the cold away. "They're pan dulce," said the girl. "I knew someone needed them, so I baked them. I knew as soon as I saw you that it was you.”

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Book:Hungry Hearts: 13 Tales of Food & Love
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“We've been trying to recreate Mum's Coorg pandhi curry." "Is that so?" said Mynah. "How was that supposed to work without the kachampuli?" "The what?" "Kachampuli," she repeated. "What is kachampuli supposed to be?" Dad asked, sounding out the syllables carefully. Mynah let out a shriek of laughter. "Are you telling me you've been trying to make Coorg pandhi curry all this time, and neither of you knows about kachampuli? Which is only the most essential ingredient?" "But surely the pandhi is the most essential ingredient," Anna protested, gesturing in the direction of the pork rind sitting on the counter. "Otherwise it would be called kachampuli curry." Mynah ignored that and wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. "Kachampuli, my sweet ignorant ones, is what gives the pandhi curry its distinct flavor. It's a little vinegar, and it's made from a limey sort of fruit they grow in Coorg." She marched to one of the cupboards, rooted around in the back, and retrieved a dusty bottle with a sealed cap. Inside gleamed a thick, dark liquid. "Behold," she said dramatically, "kachampuli.”

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Book:Hungry Hearts: 13 Tales of Food & Love
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“In his world, people didn’t just up and move house with barely any warning. They had employers to give at least a month’s notice to, family members popping in to help them pack, and scores of friends to throw them tearful going-away parties. They didn’t pack up their possessions in a single morning, say “I’ll be off, then,” and just go.”

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Book:The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches
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“The pan dulce was perfect, and it gave Anna an idea. Talking to Lila about her favorite memories of her mother had shaken loose parts of the past she had either forgotten or overlooked. Like the songs her mother would sing as she cooked the one and only thing she ever cooked; like that time they visited the family coffee estate and Mum shot a rampaging wild boar and then they cooked and ate it later that night; like the smell of rain in the forest; like the fat, sour gooseberries they would pick off the trees; like fresh peppercorns straight off the vine; like countless other jumbled memories and smells and tastes and sounds that had been tucked away in some corner of her mind gathering dust for so long. Mum's favorite dish, the one and only thing she ever cooked. I'm going to make it. Anna had never learned how to make it, because she had always arrogantly assumed her mother would be around forever, but she had eaten it so many times that she was sure she could recreate it by memory and taste alone. This is it. Her favorite food. She would have to thank Lila for the inspiration later. This was the connection she had been afraid she would never find. It was a way to hold on to everything she had lost. "Can I borrow your wallet, Dad?" Excited for the first time in what felt like months, Anna rushed out to the neighborhood grocery store and picked out the ingredients she hoped would work. Curry leaves, bay leaves, whole black peppercorns, turmeric, ginger, garlic, green chilies, red chilies, limes, honey, and, finally, a fresh shoulder of pork.”

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Book:Hungry Hearts: 13 Tales of Food & Love
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“We all love Jamie too much to see him spend the rest of his life with only three decrepit old bags of bones for company." "I'm fifty-six," said Lucie indignantly. "I'm closer to Jamie's age than yours! Watch who you're calling a decrepit bag of bones." ... "Why is it you're never concerned about my romantic life, or lack thereof?" "Darling, you said it yourself, you're fifty-six," Ian said soothingly. "You're an established spin - " "If you say the word spinster, I'll skewer you on a spit.”

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Book:The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches
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“and Anna could smell sushi, baked bread, and frying hot dogs. She could even catch the faint tang of Indian spices- not the kinds of spices she was used to, of course, the very specific kind in pandhi curry or masala crab, but then she had never come across those flavors outside the small, beautiful corner of India that her mother had once called home. That said, this place did smell yummy. There was food everywhere she looked: street vendors, bakeries, cafés, take-out places, you name it. Hungry Heart Row, that's what this neighborhood was called, and it seemed its residents had taken that very seriously.”

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Book:Hungry Hearts: 13 Tales of Food & Love
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