Sinigang Shampoo

I like the taste of tamarind. Sinigang is by far one of my fave dishes, that trademark Filipino stew whose distinct sour tang could only be had by tamarind. Mom used to cook it the old way, by boiling the fruit and mashing it through a strainer. But food manufacturers saw the marketing opportunity and came up with the powdered form. An okay development, but it's come to the point when I forget what the original tastes like. (Mom would sometimes use kamias, but that taste creates a different sour delight altogether.)

As a kid, I'd go to the cornerstore with one peso in hand to buy four pieces of processed tamarind dipped in iodized salt. There would also be times when I'd get those in 'sets' wrapped in cellophane. Once home, I'd dip that in rock salt. Such simple gastronomic pleasures are hard to find today.

To me, tamarind is ingested, flavor or pulp, period. So you can imagine my hesitation at finding a bottle of tamarind shampoo in the bathroom. Yes, tamarind shampoo. It was brought home by grandma when she took a short trip to Bangkok to visit my aunt. The mere fact that the Thai had such a product led me to believe that there were people who actually used the thing, but images of lathering my hair with sinigang just didn't cut it for me. I settled for my usual hair-cleansing chemical.

But yesterday, I was left with no choice. I used tamarind shampoo on my hair. It felt odd, a psychological piece of nitpicking, diverting my thoughts from the fact that it actually smelled good, making it no different from the other fruity shampoos out there. But once is enough.

Anyone for lansones shampoo? Or chico? Or, heaven forbid... durian?



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