Some truth dawns on you ever so slowly, like Jimmy Adams playing on the 2nd day of an infernally boring test match. This truth is ever present without making a conspicuous appearance - almost like Hashan Tilakratne on the ground. But when the realization comes, you're no longer a stranger to it.
In the month of August 2012, a strange truth dawned on me during a well dim lit dinner- I'd lost my spice. Probably forever.
Before jumping to any conclusions and letting the horses fly, we must understand that the term "spice" literally means spice. Every Indian, depending on his locality, has an inbuilt relationship with spice. I too had one. Now it is broken, and may be well beyond repair.
During my 28 years of stay on this earth, I've had my share of spicy food and loved it. I've eaten fish with a fiery taste of gingery hot gravy- so hot and spicy that my nose would run for an hour after lunch. I've had a fried fish whose mere memory burns the tip of my tongue. I've tasted the truly masaledaar (full of masala) subjee and reached nirvana without any spiritual notions. Yours truly has had an abominably charming habit of eating raw chillies with Sol Kadhi ( Western Indian soup!) and rice. I never made any complaints for the amount of spice in my food. The more the merrier.
To quote an anecdote, One of my friend who has had an equal appetite for spice, Once stayed in Pune as a paying guest. His house owner was rather mild on spice. My friend had to remind the owner more than once about the amount of spice in the curry. My friend made passing comments about the non-existence of spiciness in the food prepared by Mrs. Owner.
That didn't go well of course. During next few days, he could observe the amount of spice raised exponentially in his beloved curry. For a couple of days, He was so delighted that he drank the curry instead of water and burped so loud that the nearby speakers felt load of inferiority complex.
Mrs. Owner inquired after each meal - " is that spicy ??"
to which my friend replied, "I could do more, Ma'm". and retired to his room with starry eyes.
To his utter surprise, On the fifth day his dinner plate arrived with rice and red layer in a bowl.
With a careless gesture he poured the liquid on the rice and took a mouthful.
Rest of the story was narrated to me from a hospital bed after 3 days of liquid diet.
Mrs. Owner had accepted his challenge and stuffed the entire chilly generation in her kitchen in my friend's curry.
To correlate the facts, I've had a similar in the past (read one of my previous blogs. Or better, just believe me.) I've had some harrowing experiences with spice in the past, but I've always enjoyed them. Albeit with running nose and watery eyes; still my senses loved the feeling. not anymore.
Coming back to my story, I realized that I've lost it. During a recent dinner, I took 3 spoonfuls (notice the change) of a certain "Pepper chicken", and hell broke loose. The spiciness of above dish was 4/6.
I couldn't take more than that. It saddened me. I felt like I've lost a childhood friend.
I have no way of knowing whether the food I had was really spicy or I underestimated the capacity of the Indian restaurant in US of A. Only time will tell.
A spoonful of Dutt Snacks Misal on a Sunday morning would be the acid test.
I'm hoping for a positive result.
* Dutt Snacks - an eatery in Goregaon (E) where yours truly wasted a considerable amount of my parents' money on Misal Pav and Kokam Sarbat.
In the month of August 2012, a strange truth dawned on me during a well dim lit dinner- I'd lost my spice. Probably forever.
Before jumping to any conclusions and letting the horses fly, we must understand that the term "spice" literally means spice. Every Indian, depending on his locality, has an inbuilt relationship with spice. I too had one. Now it is broken, and may be well beyond repair.
During my 28 years of stay on this earth, I've had my share of spicy food and loved it. I've eaten fish with a fiery taste of gingery hot gravy- so hot and spicy that my nose would run for an hour after lunch. I've had a fried fish whose mere memory burns the tip of my tongue. I've tasted the truly masaledaar (full of masala) subjee and reached nirvana without any spiritual notions. Yours truly has had an abominably charming habit of eating raw chillies with Sol Kadhi ( Western Indian soup!) and rice. I never made any complaints for the amount of spice in my food. The more the merrier.
To quote an anecdote, One of my friend who has had an equal appetite for spice, Once stayed in Pune as a paying guest. His house owner was rather mild on spice. My friend had to remind the owner more than once about the amount of spice in the curry. My friend made passing comments about the non-existence of spiciness in the food prepared by Mrs. Owner.
That didn't go well of course. During next few days, he could observe the amount of spice raised exponentially in his beloved curry. For a couple of days, He was so delighted that he drank the curry instead of water and burped so loud that the nearby speakers felt load of inferiority complex.
Mrs. Owner inquired after each meal - " is that spicy ??"
to which my friend replied, "I could do more, Ma'm". and retired to his room with starry eyes.
To his utter surprise, On the fifth day his dinner plate arrived with rice and red layer in a bowl.
With a careless gesture he poured the liquid on the rice and took a mouthful.
Rest of the story was narrated to me from a hospital bed after 3 days of liquid diet.
Mrs. Owner had accepted his challenge and stuffed the entire chilly generation in her kitchen in my friend's curry.
To correlate the facts, I've had a similar in the past (read one of my previous blogs. Or better, just believe me.) I've had some harrowing experiences with spice in the past, but I've always enjoyed them. Albeit with running nose and watery eyes; still my senses loved the feeling. not anymore.
Coming back to my story, I realized that I've lost it. During a recent dinner, I took 3 spoonfuls (notice the change) of a certain "Pepper chicken", and hell broke loose. The spiciness of above dish was 4/6.
I couldn't take more than that. It saddened me. I felt like I've lost a childhood friend.
I have no way of knowing whether the food I had was really spicy or I underestimated the capacity of the Indian restaurant in US of A. Only time will tell.
A spoonful of Dutt Snacks Misal on a Sunday morning would be the acid test.
I'm hoping for a positive result.
* Dutt Snacks - an eatery in Goregaon (E) where yours truly wasted a considerable amount of my parents' money on Misal Pav and Kokam Sarbat.
No comments:
Post a Comment