I’ve often heard that curry is a universal dish, and I’ve certainly tasted iterations that are close enough to be kissing cousins.

But Sri Lankan curry? It’s not a dish; it’s an event!

The first thing that hit me was the sheer complexity of the spices that isn’t attributed to the usual turmeric, cumin and coriander.

It’s a phenomenal nose hit that hints to an orchestra of ingredients — cinnamon, cardamom, fenugreek, curry leaves, and the fiery and unapologetic Sri Lankan chili.

Filipinos are never stranger to spicy food. Me, I love my sinigang with patis and chili fire; I like it best when the Bicol Express brings tears to my eyes; and when the sisig pushes my tastebuds to the edge.

But Sri Lankan curry doesn’t just spice you up — it draws you in, like a good friend who offers a drink and then slaps you across the face for fun.

You can never be sure whether you’re experiencing sweet, salty, sour, or fiery hot — all at the same time.

What sets Sri Lankan curry apart is the balance, like some local cook has a spice calculator in his tropic kitchen: A little heat here, a touch of sweetness there, and that occasional crunch of toasted coconut that takes you by surprise.

The main event might be the curry, but, in Sri Lankan curry, the side dishes are like the unsung heroes of a well-choreographed dance.

The brinjal moju (pickled eggplant) is orgasmic. Think eggplants, fried to perfection, and then marinated in a blend of vinegar, mustard seeds, turmeric, and a whisper of sweetness. It’s tangy; it’s savory; it’s a little crunchy on the outside, and soft on the inside — it’s the eggplant I never knew I needed in my life. Pair this with the curry, and the most svelte of contrast is bliss.

The pol sambol — the Sri Lankan spicy coconut relish answer to salsa — is made with freshly grated coconut, red chili, onions and a good squeeze of lime. It was everything I loved about Filipino bagoong and kalamansi, but dialed up a notch in flavor. You spoon it over rice, or the brinjal moju.

It didn’t take me long to realize why Sri Lankan food resonates so deeply with my Filipino taste buds.

The complex layering of flavors, the uncompromising use of spice, and the joyfully aggressive use of coconut are all key components in Filipino cuisine.

We, too, embrace the dance between salty, sweet, and sour with dishes like adobo and sinigang.

The use of coconut, particularly in our laing and ginataan dishes, is something that strikes a chord with any Sri Lankan gourmand soul.

Both Sri Lanka and the Philippines are island-nations, so it’s no surprise that coconut is the star ingredient that ties our culinary traditions together. It’s in the blood, not the language or skin color.

In the end, it’s not just the curry; it’s the entire experience of eating Sri Lankan food that mirrors our own appreciation for big, bold flavors.

It’s messy, it’s hot, it’s complex, and it’s always better when shared with good company — much like in the Filipino dining experience.

Take a trip to Sri Lanka. You might just find your curry soulmate waiting for you, and up with a side of brinjal and pol sambol to share, because, as any Filipino will tell you, the side dishes are the unsung heroes of every meal.