I have been sitting at my desk in office utterly perturbed. It is a Wednesday that isn’t a mid-week (which other country still has working Saturdays?!) and there has been a lot of work through the day. But this is not why I have been perturbed.
The truth is, I have been facing severe withdrawal symptoms. It has been a whole four days since I had chicken and my self-control is fraying even as I blink! Back in Delhi, Mom and Grandpa knew about my condition and always ensured I got my dose. After all, it was an infinitely better prospect than being around a listless, disinterested individual who lacks concentration and drive. But here in Pune, I have difficulty in finding a supplier near my place. I need to walk down quite a bit or worse, hire an auto-rickshaw (please see this to know why this is doomsday!). R often tries to help me out but his late working hours interfere with our best laid plans.
Tell me now, isn’t the mere aroma, the distinct flavour and the spiciness of the chicken gravy enough to enthrall all five – or six – senses? How do I draw a parallel for the vegetarians? Let’s just say, it’s better (okay, I will change this to “as good”) than the most delectable paneer, the most succulent soya or the tangiest veggies you can think of. I have a torrid love affair with chicken that doesn’t let me focus on worldly matters if we are apart too long.
Growing up in a Bengali household, we had non vegetarian dishes at least four times a week. Fish was almost a staple but pity I never developed a taste for it. I ate my chicken sitting quietly in my place at the dining table. I worked my way neatly through the flesh and bones and dipped my rice in the gravy only after my nose had had its fill of smelling it.
I was initially very disappointed with the chicken in Pune. The cuisine didn’t appeal to me – it was either too bland or too spicy and red! That was before I discovered Good Luck Cafe, Adda, German Bakery and Olive Bistro. Although nothing quite compares to the chicken my Granny cooks at home, my taste buds have warmed to these places. My chicken and I are no longer long-distance.
Anyhow, the good news is that my workday is now over and when I get home, I have a date. Wednesday is when R gets me some chicken from that faraway shop I told you about and cooks it in our kitchen – my new favourite restaurant. The two of us will crunch and munch and, along with the chicken, all my life’s blues will disappear in gastronomic heaven!