It is so nice that my friends eat well. It gives me a warm tingly feeling. One of them tends to have late night feasts at the Grubsteak and various other places -- usually in the charming company of 'statuesque' drag queens, the lucky man -- and several others are food mavens too.
They've all got hearty appetites.
And really enjoy eating.
Often with cellphones.
Which shoot photos.
I should mention that in that regard I am a total Luddite. I do not own a cellphone, don't want one either. I'm still using a landline. For a while the company where I worked, while in its death spiral before the filthy hippies from Toronto bought it, forced me to have a device, but when it delayed my morning ablutory ritual I decided that I never wanted to be reachable all the time. If you need to talk to me, you know where to find me. Work. Home. Somewhere in Chinatown. Lurking near the discarded Christmas tree at the corner garbage can (next two weeks only).
Otherwise forget it.
Anyhow, one of my friends had a lovely lunch today.
"...Chicken kathi kebab, kohliwada fish, okra pulao and naan, bhature cholle."
Dang.
What I had for lunch was an Italian sandwich ("New") from a convenience store, and a drinkable yoghurt (strawberry / fresa). Plus squeezings from the bottle of Sriracha hot sauce I keep at work.
I wish I had eaten the chicken kathi kebab, kohliwada fish, okra pullao, and naan. I'll pass on the bhature with cholle due to a digestive conflict.
Murghi, machli, bhindi, roti. Plus achar and pudina chatni.
Sounds good enough to eat.
Dinner, at this very moment, consists of vegetarian fried noodles.
With fatty pork slivers, and fishsauce. And fried egg.
Plus ginger, chilipaste, and curry paste.
And fresh green chilies.
No photo.
. . .
So maybe it isn't "vegetarian".
In even the slightest.
Let's pretend.
Okay, calling it "vegetarian" was a mistake.
Vegetarian usually is.
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