LIFE IN THE BUFFET LANE

Having worked in an Indian restaurant, I am somewhat familiar with Indian food. Well, Indian restaurant food. Specifically, the food served at Indian restaurants in the United States.

Which is not the same as Indian food.

I have been told that REAL Indian food can only be found in England. At restaurants run by Sylhetis in London which stay open late at night so that pub-departees who do not wish to dine on Spam fritter or deepfried Snickersbar may enjoy their vindaloo or chicken tikka masala - the British national dishes of the working class and middle class respectively.

The English, as is well known, are experts on all matters Indian. Apparently they invented the place. Much like the Dutch invented civilization, and the French invented bread.

But anyhow.


FEED US GHEE

I enjoy a nice bit of khana, and so does Savage Kitten. We regularly go up the road to an Indian restaurant to partake of their buffet, which contains the usual staples - various types of sabjee, including palak ka saag, as well as murgh makhni, a nice oily kheema matar, and tandoori chicken.
The naan is excellent, when just out of the kitchen.

It is interesting watching other people's behaviour at Indian buffet restaurants.

Type: WASP.
Overloads plate, glopping rich saucy food ontop of a mound of rice and other rich saucy food, precariously balancing naan and papad on top of the unstable pyramid. Seems afraid that if he doesn't grab as much as possible now, someone else will eat everything!

Type: EURY.
Approaches this strange foreign food with a combination of serious intellectual gravitas and paranoid caution. Will slowly, hesitantly, masticate alternating forkfulls of lettuce, gulab jamun, chicken, lamb, and samosa, before pronouncing it good and going for more exploratory pecking.

Type: TATTOO.
Needs as many arms as an Indian statue, due to habit of clearing out the vegetables, each on its own plate or in its own bowl. Takes great care not to combine foods - the lentil puree might disagree with the exquisite garbanzos. Is there dairy in this? Then I cannot eat it! Engages the staff in spiritually uplifting conversation - the words 'ashram', 'swami', 'devadassi', and 'Ooticamund' are likely to be heard.
Smiles blissfully.

Type: ALLERGIC.
Really, she only came along for the company, she has no intention of absorbing anything threatening. Cannot eat bread (gluten!), Indian vegetable preparations (peanut oil!), meat (meat!), fried foods (evil!), or anything with dairy in it (lactose intolerance). Dislikes rice. Is there any tofu on the premises? Fruit? Canned tempeh?
Oh but never mind me, I'm perfectly content with my glass of water!
Really, I am!!!!!

Type: DESI.
May or may not partake of the buffet - but will desperately order basket upon basket of naan, as only goralog eat cold breads turned spongy. Moves fingers of the right hand in careful gestures over the surface of the plate, forming little mounds of sabjee which are then swiftly and without spilling one iota conveyed to the mouth. Can usually do this without getting any food on the palm of the hand - unless they're from the south, in which case their enthusiasm will get gravies and rice up to the elbow.
If they are Sindhis, the hand descends swoopingly upon the food, like a carrion bird on a corpse. There is a grace to the speed with which such folk rip the flesh from fowl, then bite a crisp green chili - they will calmly break off a piece of papad, then return their fingers to the fray.
Punjabis, on the other hand, sensually digitize the food - yet without much fuss. They like feeling it, because the finger tips give forwarning of the luscious textures awaiting the mouth. Lots of buttered naan, lots of green chilies, lots of pickle. Onion!
Accha!



WE SHALL HAVE MORE ROTI

I have no idea where the family at the other table was from. Grandma wore a dark blue sari and had her hair in a long braid. The father sat at the head, his wife to his left, his little daughter to his right. The little girl was the most interesting person at the table.

She may have been three years old already, but I suspect not - far too small.
But she was very capable for her age - she did not stick her fingers in her mouth while eating, and did not drop any of the food she picked up with her fingers. She ate very neatly, and unlike many infants did not wail or chatter or screech during dinner.
After the plates were cleared, she said brightly "oh look, everyone has finished". Perfect diction, and nicely modulated, a voice neither childish or yelpy.
She and her grandmother had a conversation which was too soft to understand, finished by her telling her grandmother firmly "oh but you really must come with us!"


There should be many more parents like hers. Normally I can't stand other people's infants. Judging by their daughter, these parents are examples worth emulating, especially by the types Wasp, Eury, Tattoo, and Allergic.
Who far too often have children without knowing what to do with them.



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