First of all, most of you reading this probably rank Indian cuisine low on the list of food favorites, or more accurately, prefer to never allow Indian cuisine to make it on your list and are content in your culinary prejudice and plan to pass this hatred on to your children. That is fine. The rest of you probably have tempted toilet fate at your local Baluchi's or Mc Curry's, liked one or two items, strayed from the mushier selections, patted yourself on the back for trying ethnic fare, and then announce to your friends whenever relevant that you "love tandoori chicken. It is, like, delish!"
Regardless of where you fit in, you suck. I've eaten Indian at home and while not my favorite I was under the impression I had a gauge for what would be served here. Stupid ferungi.
Allow me to share. There are always many options with Indian food. You can choose from a handful of rice-types. Multiple breads are common . And then several dishes are available, which are easily distinguishable from each other because they are served in separate aluminum vats, they come in a wide variety of browns, tend to have vegetables, and a few contain meatish pieces. The cooking method for most of these dishes is very intense and takes a few hours. The process involves slow-roasting at least 7 pounds of the national spice, hotas$%it, which is then sprinkled with other ingredients to create a unique tongue-burning experience unique to each particular dish. It is not uncommon for this spice to be coupled with hotas&*ck, a North-Indian delicacy (a practice more prevalent after the British regime was lifted).
The majority of you will begin to laugh at this point, and I would too, so enjoy. My indigestion is here for your pleasure. Real Indian food has harsh flavors that you won't recognize and comes in portions a fraction of what you are used to.
It is ancient Hindi custom, interestingly enough, to follow strict dietary guidelines that depart greatly from what the lions share of western nutritionists define as "healthy". If embracing a culture through its cuisine is your cup of Chai then let me help you :) Here your meals focus on key ingredients like breads soaked in motor oil and then fried, butter, vegetables cooked until the nutritional value is nil, and weapons-grade sugar for dessert.
I guess this is the reality of living in a third world country. Protein is expensive apparently and fresh vegetables may as well be caviar. And the portions we are accustomed to are like platters here. The truth is the quality of the food is just a few steps down and you notice it. But what I am still shocked at the selection. There is so much oil and fried options. And not in the good way like a greasy cheeseburger. Now I come from a long line of iron-stomached Pfeifers and Benedicts. And proper doctor recommended food choices have not always been a part of my life* but I am still floored by what you have to eat here.
One more point that throw me for a loop; the American snacks they import and serve in the office. So its clear that your standard Indian meal isnt going to abide by South Beach standards, right? That's fine and there are 3X the number of people here than in America so you will live eating this stuff. In my mind, if I were in charge of the company budget for food and my local choices were what I have outlined then I'd probably reach elsewhere for quality snacks or produce.
Well I'd be wrong. Instead you'd think fuckin Chester the Cheetah and Willy Wonka are running the show...I dont think I've seen so many god damn Pringles in my life! And hundreds of candy bars. My hips don't lie! It is ridiculous. And this is the white guy talking! I feel like I am alone on an island out here! Its bad enough that when people order a sandwich here the ingredients are butter, cucumbers, and spices... but then when I am starving you offer us a fat 8yr olds fantasy meal? Don't get me wrong, beggars can't be choosers and you don't complain about a free meal (though it's not like I can run out to Baja Fresh down the street) but it is just perplexing. Daddy needs a steak or else I'm going to end up looking like the smelly big kid in physics class that handles lighting in theater and plays Magic in the B-wing hallway after school.
In short, when you are hungry here you help yourself to a bowl full of curried heat and wash it down with two bags of Oreos, single-stuffed cuz the man wouldnt give us double.
*You are dealing with a man who polished 14 Krispy Kreme donuts off at one sitting not long after eating lunch that day. I held the title of King of El Camino in Palo Alto, CA in college after an afternoon juggernaut-eating spectacle where I downed 3 cans of tuna, a heaping 3-item takeout at Mr Chau's (can't beat 1.2lbs of chinese food for $4.19), a Ten Tacos for Ten Bucks meal at Taco Bell (a 2001 promotion made to target collegiate defensive tackles and families of 6. The sanctioning body for this competition was comprised of myself, fat Samoan Anthony Gabriel (my competition), hyperactive linebacker Matt Friedrichs (a flyweight at 238lbs), and short-but-lazy cornerback Ruben Carter who didnt have a car), to drink: 32 ounce Hawaiian Punch soda and most of the refill, and half a box of Lil Debbie Oatmeal Cookies. Life at 280lbs involves a caloric commitment.
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