Brash and bright, almost to the point of effervescence. Also rich, creamy and so very earthy. And when you spell it out like that, it sounds impossible that all of these flavors can coexist in a single mouthful. And yet, that is the delicious truth about so much of the cooking of Sri Lanka. It’s an absurdity of flavor layering.

And that’s what makes it so wonderfully alluring.

Mallika Fernando and her husband, Allan, were happy to show me how it works. I was visiting their home in Colombo, the island nation’s capital. Earlier, Allan had given me a tour of their corner of the sprawling city, bouncing us down boisterous market streets in the tuk-tuk he drives part time as a taxi. Now, we were ready to eat.

The menu covered an array of Sri Lankan classics, including curried potatoes, fried rice and shrimp curry. But the dish that most intrigued me—pumpkin curry. I love winter squash in all forms, and the idea of bathing it in coconut—as so many of the country’s dishes are—and a mess of spices had my full attention.

Fernando began by heating coconut oil—the cooking fat of choice here—in a deep skillet. In it, she toasted a crumbled dried red chili that was assertive, but not incendiary, and what seemed like a metric ton of chopped garlic. Next were several fresh green chilies, curry leaves, red onion, brown mustard seeds, cumin seeds and a bit of cinnamon.

Already, it was layer upon layer of flavor—tropical notes from the coconut, heat from the chilies, peppery bite from the garlic and mustard seeds, herbal notes from the curry leaves and warmth from the cumin and cinnamon. But Fernando wasn’t done. Turmeric added more earthy warmth and black pepper offered pops of heat.

Only after all this flavor was built did she add coconut milk and a local winter pumpkin that resembled in taste and texture a kabocha squash. This all cooked quickly and uncovered, letting the liquid and seasonings reduce, concentrate and thickly coat the vegetable. The resulting flavors were both chaotic and harmonized, in all the right ways.

Simply put, Fernando gave a master class in layering flavor. A valuable lesson in how sometimes more is deliciously more, and we never should be afraid of piling on the flavor.