Much like the “sloop and salad” (325) in Revival (2014), mulligatawny is not pivotal to Insomnia (1994), but Theresa Carle-Sanders’ recipe for “Better-than-Canned Mulligatawny” in Castle Rock Kitchen is so delicious that I don’t mind that at all. This is hands-down my favorite recipe from the cookbook so far, a hearty, flavor-packed, and spicy soup that left my kitchen smelling wonderfully of curry and ginger.
Full disclosure: I had no idea what mulligatawny was before this recipe. I’ve read Insomnia a few times, so I’ve definitely seen King’s passing reference to the detritus of the abandoned railroad depot near Derry’s Barrens, among which “one could sometimes find tomato soup cans half-full of mulligatawny stew and bottles with a swallow of beer left in them” (269), but I don’t recall that detail ever catching my attention, and there are enough context clues to take King’s larger meaning and keep on reading. After all, there are more interesting and troubling things going on in Derry (both in Insomnia and in Derry historically) than discarded half-full cans of stew. I embraced the learning process of following Carle-Sanders’ recipe without any larger context or further information, but as I sat down to savor a bowl, I switched to research mode to find out more about mulligatawny.
Mulligatawny is a dish from Tamil Indian cuisine and it looks like there are tons of variations to the standard recipe, which leaves lots of room for customization and different riffs on the basic foundation. Sydney Oland from Serious Eats says “Mulligatawny marries both British and Indian ingredients to form a soup that is a bit spicy, a bit sweet, and very satisfying. There are many versions of this popular soup; some contain rice, some coconut milk, others are vegetarian while some include meat. The important elements are spice, sweetness, and in my opinion, lentils.” Carle-Sanders’ mulligatawny recipe has all three of these essential components that Oland notes, with curry powder and other spices, coconut milk for sweetness, and lentils. While many mulligatawny recipes include meat (most frequently chicken), Carle-Sanders’ does not, and I actually made a minor tweak and substituted vegetable stock for chicken stock in her recipe to make a vegetarian version, though based on how delicious it is, I don’t think the flavor suffered any from this switch.
(In Orland’s recipe, she adds sweet potato and apple for sweetness, and other recipes include a dollop of mango chutney to finish, all of which sound amazing. I may find myself diving down a mulligatawny rabbit hole in the near future, to be honest. There are so many variations that sound really fantastic and my favorite kind of recipes are the ones you can tweak and modify, for endless variations on the same delicious theme).
The actual mulligatawny aside, the passage from Insomnia from which Carle-Sanders drew her inspiration also opens a surprising number of doors for further exploration. As Ralph Roberts thinks about Derry, he taps into a fundamental truth of the town: that it’s not the same for everyone who lives there, that there are plenty of blind spots and hidden corners. Ralph reflects that “The Derry of the Old Crocks was not the only secret city existing quietly within the place Ralph Roberts had always thought of as home … [There was also] one that belonged strictly to the children” (269), calling to mind the children of IT (1986), the camaraderie and danger they find in Derry’s hidden corners, and the horrors that await them when they return as adults. Derry has layers of terror, very rarely showing its complete, true face to anyone, and these “secret” worlds within it hold countless threats and secrets. Ralph also reflects on this hidden Derry as including “secret streets and highways in hiding” (269), which reaches beyond Derry itself, calling to mind the interconnected worlds of The Talisman (with Peter Straub, 1984), Black House (with Peter Straub, 2001), and King’s Dark Tower series, highlighting the intertwined nature of King’s fictional universe.
The mulligatawny mentioned in Insomnia poses a bit of a mystery itself as well, I think. It’s not half-empty cans of mulligatawny stew (which would coincide nicely with Carle-Sanders’ recipe title of “Better-than-Canned Mulligatawny”) at the abandoned depot. It’s “tomato soup cans half-full of mulligatawny stew” (269). Where did this mulligatawny come from? Who made it? How did it end up in those tomato soup cans? Perhaps there’s a soup kitchen or other hot food distribution center where the down on their luck people who find refuge in the depot get mulligatawny and put it in these cans for later. Or maybe one of the people in the depot had mulligatawny and shared it around with their fellows, using whatever was at hand as makeshift dishes. It didn’t initially strike me as a recipe that would be ubiquitous in New England, though a bit of digging revealed that the recipe first made its way to the United States in Massachusetts, so there is a regional resonance.
Finally, in the mulligatawny-mentioning passage of Insomnia, Ralph notes that “there were the hundred (or perhaps it was closer to two hundred) tangled trails winding through the Barrens, an overgrown valley which slashed through the center of town like a badly healed scar” (269). And that really feels like a resonant metaphor for King’s Maine—and his fictional universe more broadly—with countless branching paths that take us into a million nooks and crannies, revealing horrors that otherwise remain below the surface of most people’s awareness, shrouded in secrecy and silence.
[Page numbers are from the 2014 hardcover Scribner edition of Revival and the Signet paperback edition of Insomnia].
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