Against my better judgment, I went to an Indian restaurant for lunch today. My idea of adventurous eating is putting mayonnaise on both pieces of my sandwich bread. So you can imagine my trepidation at eating at an Indian restaurant, where, for all I know, they might think tree bark is a delicacy. But as I am new at my job, and the rest of my department was going, I didn't feel I could decline. Maybe after I've been there for a few months or so, I can say, "You want me to do what, now?" But for now, I just pretended like Indian food was my favorite thing in the world.
Joe, being more experienced in these matters, had given me some pointers before I went: The spinach stuff (authentic Indian name: "spinach stuff") is good, but stay away from pork vindaloo (so named because victims -- er, consumers -- often must rush away to the "loo," at least if they are eating this in Britain).
"So, how was it?" Joe asked when I came home.
"It was...baby food. Basically, I had baby food for lunch," I said.
The restaurant had been a buffet place, and that's exactly what everything looked like. Pureed mush, with some little chunks of unknown solids floating in some of the mush. Even babies probably would have mistaken it for something to play with, not eat. The only things that were recognizable as actual food were the pita bread and plain rice.
Joe wanted to know if there had been any chicken dishes. "Usually they have a couple of meat items," he said.
"Well, there were some things that were labeled chicken," I said dubiously, "but I couldn't get an independent confirmation of that. They seemed a little offended when I asked."
"And another thing," I said, "there weren't any directions telling you what you were supposed to do with this goop -- assuming you wanted to eat it. Do you dip something in it? Scoop it? Slurp it? It really was rather rude of the establishment to keep that to themselves."
Fortunately I did not have to survive on pita bread and baby food for the rest of the afternoon, as we had a party later in the office. I was so happy to see food that I knew was food: little squares of pineapple, carrot sticks, chips (although Joe disagrees with the categorization of chips as "food"), cake...and the best part of all: no bowl of mush, with little chunks floating in it.
2 comments:
There's your mistake...Never (ever) eat anything served buffet style. I once watched as a man at a Chinese food buffet used the serving spoon from some condiment to taste the condiment and then PUT THE SPOON BACK into the condiment.
As I was saying last evening, The Gallent Hero, you, and The Nosy Neighbors will have to go to an Indian restaurant to sample food that is not quite of so mysterious an origin!
LUCKILY, although I endured the Indian baby food experience, I bowed out of my department's recent foray to a Chinese buffet. Phew!
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