Saturday, 5 November 2011

"Sichuan Frid rice" anyone?

There comes a moment in life when everything just goes wrong , when every effort goes down the drain , when I feel like a complete loser , it is during those moments that I grumble, at times cry, shout, fight, and then when every goddamned thing fails I take the ultimate step, I make that all important phone call to - dominoes or Xing chinese/indian/tandoor home delivery.  Music can go for a long walk, because for me- food is the food of life. Over the years the take-away services near my home have evoked a lot of emotions ranging from - relief  , horror, anger, to that of absolute bewilderment.

 The best and worst of it ..

There is a hierarchy of course. there is the 45 rs (and that was YEARS ago) veg plate  which my mum once ordered from "dui burir hensel (that n is a chandrabindoo-substitue since english language has no such interesting stuff like chandrabindoos and bishorgos) so anyway, it basically means "two old women's kitchen" . It is normal everyday khana. the rice and dal were  good and the aloo bhurji in a packet was also great but the horror was that layer of oil in the veg curry but then any packed thing from outside can never be ghar ka khana so why complain!  This one is the cheap-emergency alternative when the maid takes casual/medical leave for days on end and mum's temper reaches the Everest summit. Next in the order is the multi cuisine takeaway .And finally ,when I feel really really rich or really really torchered I call Dominoes. (when i feel that i am not-so-rich i order the combo thing  and on special days  , like when my part-2 exams ended its gourmet pizza please !).

 I also feel that they should publish their own dictionary. "Schezwan" "Sichuan" "Shechuaan" - all synonyms for that red runny gravy, which is so hot that I cry more than a girl suffering a break up. You can also take your pick from "pan-frid" noodles, or "veg haka chowmen" or is  want a starter , just go ahead with some delicious "panner pakora".

 They have innovation at their finger-tips. The dishes are re-invented every single day. Once a dal makhni was my favourite dish , it was 5-6 types of dal , slow cooked with dollops of butter. One day I ordered that and imagine my horror when I stared at the barely boiled unseasoned lentils staring at me from the foil container. Also today's manchurian is tomorrow's chilly and tomorrow's manchurian is day-after-tomorrow's schezwan. The gravies play musical chair.

They all have conversation specialists who receive the calls. They are all amusing in their own way but the Pizza guys win hands down. Ever played a cassette in fast-forward mode? A hich-kich-pitch noise where you can't make out a single word? that's what they sound like , they introduce themselves, give me a list of new "offers" in which i am not interested in a span of about a second and then ask for my order. They sound more programmed than a C++ program.

The funniest bit is the way the Dominoes person always asks for my phone number, looks it up in his pc and then in a very happy tone says " from so and so", of course they have been taught that this would make the customer feel special, the fact that they "remember" me, yes I would feel special only if i had an IQ of 0.00007 and did not know about the computer thingy. somehow the honest "onek din por elen?" (coming after so many days?) from my xerox-walla sounds more sincere. But pizza ke liye kuch bhi !

However, no matter how much I ridicule them , the fact is when I sit down with some of that super-greasy stuff , in my 100 year old  dress (which ma threatens to donate to my maid  for sweeping) and I switch on the T.V or when a few of my closest , and dearest pals sit down with all kinds of home-delivered trans-fat loaded junk , for a hot n happening bitching session, I am in heaven. I don't have to worry about my jeans constricting the life out of my guts or about stupid company. Take away food spells comfort with a capital C. I simply fail to understand how some people eat so much at weddings, how can food be swallowed and digested in those  strange crowded place where strangers in hideous costumes are eating all around you , a chicken's leg hanging from one's lips, an FF1 aunty gulping down fishes (FF1 is foundation face number 1), some people even transfer some of the best chosen stuff to their kid's plate as if that wedding is their only chance of getting proper nutrition. restaurants are fine , though one has to wear civilized dresses when one visits those places, my 100 year old rag and hawaii chappals won't do ! (no i don't wear hawaiis , I wear nice aerosoft chappals but Hawaii added more drama to this sentence -don't you think?)

I have digressed again. Doesn't matter. Nothing more to say. Except describing another blissful occasion. I am a pig, I dig out leftover food. Isn't there something blissful about cold leftover bahar ka khana? Or is it just me. the Sherlock in me awakens at night as i search for my leftover veg fried rice etc in the fridge and eat it without Microwaving it. (Of course I say a loud "Yes" when my mother asks me the next morning whether I had heated it) others do it? I don't know! I don't care! I am la-femme-despicable (that is not French dumbo).

Okay bye. Will share more such worthless gems for which you all love me so much. what would I do without you my dear reader (hi-5 jane eyre)!

Tata amigos.

PS: (gyan alert) I generously tip the delivery boys. You should too. They do a lot of hard-work. Don't be a miser.

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