Archive for May, 2003
This blog used to be my private journal that I would update about every 5 months… so I decided to recycle it into more of a public airing of grievances and such. Because exhibitionism is what the internet’s all about, right?
Right now I’m listening to Janis Joplin, and she’s talking… and it’s deeeeep dude. Crryyyy cryyyy baybeeeee. Amen. Of course, this could also be due to the fact that I’m on an Indian food high. But let’s not get me started on that…
Lately I’ve been wondering if there’s any money to be made in the bumper sticker and keychain industry. Of course I think this would also include pin-backed badges and novelty caps. It seems that idiot-ink has somewhat acheived success in this arena with such gems as my personal favorite:
The question is, is the trick in thinking up all the funny (and not so funny) crap that goes on these items, or is it the actual manufacturing and distribution of the products that prevents more people from entering this trade? Because between you and me, I’ve got plenty of funny material that’s just primed and ready for bumper sticker/keychain/badge/bong helmet glory. I think I just need investors.
I barely had a chance to hang up the phone before racing out the door to join the lunch crowd. I made it to the Taste of Tandoor in record time and found the setting to be spare, but enchanting. I was greeted by a somewhat puzzled waiter, who directed me to a booth near the door. It is now that I should tell you that I don’t make a practice of dining at restaurants alone, and it did feel odd to be sitting across from no one. Normally I would be enjoying a romantic bohemian experience with my boyfriend* — we’ve made it a sort of tradition to grab Indian food whenever we can. So I felt torn — I missed his company, but wanted the Indian food… very badly. Although they were serving a buffet for lunch, I went ahead and asked for a menu. I decided to do it up right, since I had come all this way.
I think that since I was a party of one, the waiters and staff may have thought that I was a restaurant critic, because they were very attentive and offered to make selections for me and pushed the buffet items as well as specific sauces on the menu. I started out with a vegetale samosa and the mulligtawny soup, followed by rogan josh and some naan (with the usual basmati rice pilau). The waiter kept telling me I could sample anything off the buffet if I wanted, but I declined, because I didn’t want to seem greedy. They brought me samples of the tandoori chicken anyway.
The vegetable samosas were arranged on a bed of shredded lettuce and carrots, looking like two festive pyramids in a mirage of deliciousness. They were crisp on the outside and perfect on the inside. They were possibly the best I’ve had… or at least the best I can remember. The soup was piping hot and smooth… I could have eaten several more bowls of it, but I wanted to pace myself. It tasted very fresh and the flavor was superb… my only qualm was that I like a little more texture to it, but that complaint is minor compared to the pleasure it brought me. After I had slowly enjoyed my appetizer and soup, they asked my permission to bring out the entree. I was presented with a healthy portion of rogan josh and rice pilau and naan on demand — I swear if I would have eaten it right from the oven it wouldn’t have tasted any fresher. (I’m getting light-headed just thinking about it.) The entree was just what I was looking for, medium heat and saucy. Saucy. I think I have to stop talking about it, because I may cause myself to go into a frenzy again. But I will say that there’s possibly nothing better than rogan josh. I fell in love with it. I dare say that I would marry it, but since you can’t really marry lamb in curry sauce (damn those conservatives!), I had a flash of genius: If someday I should have a son, I will name him Rogan Josh. That’s how much I liked this lunch.
As I finished my meal, the manager came out to make sure the experience was a good one. Indeed it was. Of course, I was tempted to launch into my story of obsessive behavior, but I wanted to preserve my chances of being allowed back in, so I exercised self-restraint. I asked for the remainder of my food to be boxed up and also a carry-out menu. They gladly obliged and the waiter (I didn’t catch his name) said that I could order ahead of time whenever I wanted “to easily save time”.
I took my menu and bag of food and slipped out of the restaurant and into the parking lot feeling like an undercover operative. I don’t think any of the staff or customers ever suspected that I was a stark-raving mad lunatic in the pursuit of Indian food… of course, maybe that’s because they all were too.
Anyway, I have a whole other meal out of this escapade just waiting for me in the refrigerator… so, until next time…
(*Note: I will be expanding on this comment in a later entry, where we find the root of my Indian food obsession.)
I woke up thinking about lamb today. Slow-cooked in a perfect curry, fragrant and delightful, accompanied by mulligtawny soup and naan. I woke up thinking about Indian food today. I woke up thinking about Indian food… again.
And so it continues… today started out like any other day, me waking up exhausted, thinking of Indian food… I’m sure I dreamed of it too, but I’m not usually one to remember dreams after I wake up. The problem is, I don’t know how to make Indian food and I didn’t want to use up my emergency reserve of frozen chicken tikka. I’m sure you can understand this was quite a problem. So I pushed this thought down with coffee and the task of laundry… but when the urge takes hold, it cannot be suppressed for long.
So, around noon I started feeling shakey and hungry. And I started thinking about Indian food again. And how much I’ve come to love it. How much I’ve come to need it. I also started thinking that, as far as I knew, the only Indian restaurants around here were at least a half-hour drive away. And that was a drive I was willing to make, so armed with my friends, google.com and the “cheap eats” issue of Washingtonian Magazine, I set out to satisfy my need for naan. There were a few choices that didn’t require me to leave the state, so I started plotting my route… and then… just on a whim, I decided to try to look up something a bit closer. In the past I’d driven by a local strip mall (god bless strip malls!) and saw a sign for “Taste of Tandoor”, but from my vantage point, it appeared that this particular strip mall was being demolished. So much for local Indian cuisine. BUT THEN… imagine my excitement when one of my searches turned up this very same establishment… could it be? I was sure the listing was outdated, but decided that if I’m to be truly obsessed with something, I need to not be so hesitant. So I called the number, bracing myself for the “this number is disconnected or no longer in service” message. Ring… ring… (depression and panic start to set in) and then… “”allo, (something unintelligible)” OMIGOD! I HAVE BEEN SAVED!!!!!! I was in such a state of excitement that I had to verify so I said “are you guys really still open?”. And indeed they were… until 3 for lunch, reopening at 5 for dinner. The impact of this news cannot fully be described with the written word, but I can say that I felt giddy… it was akin to finding the very last game piece for the mcdonald’s monopoly game contest. (yeah, i need to work on my comparisons.)
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