A Love Letter to Phane
We are talking about Phane. To some, the sight of these prickly, protein-packed morsels might cause a bit of uncertainty. I’ve seen the "eye-closed" taste tests and the inquisitive faces. But for me? I don't remember a time I wasn’t all about it. I was always pestering my mom for just one more handful of salty, crunchy phane. Funny enough, history is repeating itself in the loudest way possible. My kids are exactly like I was. There is never a time I have phane in abundance; it’s a seasonal treasure, so I’ve mastered the art of rationing. I plate up our portions with precision, yet somehow, my kids always finish theirs in record time and start eyeing mine. I thought I hit the jackpot recently. While visiting my mother-in-love, I discovered she had a massive consignment. When I asked if I could have some, she gave me the green light to help myself. Tactfully, I found an old jar and filled it to the brim, thinking I’d secured enough to last us a few weeks. My mistake was not watching that jar like a hawk during the car ride home. By the time we pulled into the driveway, the jar was decimated. My kids hadn't just eaten them; they had gone as far as stuffing handfuls into their pockets for later. I couldn’t even be mad. Seeing them genuinely enjoy phane the same way I did at their age is also a win for our culture.
