My Love Affair With Food Has Been Re-kindled

It was about time, too. I was getting worried in July and August because the food here was just not working for me. We were ordering from this greasy little restaurants called "Friend's Poultry." So much so, that we didn't even have to give the address when we ordered...the people just knew. Every night we would have greasy chowmien, kathi rolls dripping in oil, artery-clogging fried rice, and, my personal favourite, veg macroni (that's how they spell it here) with a side of desi ghee (the equivalent of lard). One thing you may have noticed is that the above list doesn't have an Indian food on it...except the kathi rolls. As much as Friend's poulty characterized my first 2 1/2 months here, I can't say I was sad to leave it behind when we moved trainee houses.

Since then, we've been getting food from a guy that makes home-cooked meals. The price-quantity ratio isn't great, but the quality is outstanding. I have finally been able to taste good Indian food, without the high cholestoral. As a result, my tastebuds have become accustomed to the copious amounts of garam masala being used. This has allowed me to experiment with all sorts of Indian cuisine. I no longer have a problem walking into a dhaba (small cafe, usually in the middle of nowhere) and randomly picking out something from the 5 or 6 pots of gravy that are showed to me. "Oh, the green one looks nice."

Who really cares what it's made of? It's part of the reason why I like choosing items from menus I can't read. If I don't know what I'm getting, I have no expectations. Disasters, like the ones happening in the colons of new trainees, are bound to happen...like ending up with a plate full of chicken livers, however it adds to the risk of ordering food and, thus, increases the reward. Nothing feels better than getting a great meal from a menu you can't comprehend.