Monday, May 03, 2010

Five past three and I'm a STARVED

We're always hungry. Peckish. In need of a bite. Making dinner plans. Checking out new places. Having something to nibble on. What're you eating? What's in your dabba? Words you hear sixteen times a day.

As a generation, all our plans revolve around food. Forget generation. Sorry. That's inflated. I don't know about that. I know about my social circle, the growling stomachs I hang with. Where are we going? Khan Market. What are we eating? Seekh Kabab. What do you want? Something to drink. Like? There's no diet coke. Okay then, lassi. Chhaach. Salted. This against last night's homemade strawberry margaritas, unstrained, rich, thick, and with oopsie, heh, extra generous tequila. Tequila causes stupid grins.

Even as I type, all I want to know is what's for lunch. Rumali roti, deep red gravy, and for dessert, Green Apple Yogurt. Where are we going? Pandara Road. Haven't we decided that? Tandoori chicken seems tame but I'm leaning towards the unhealthy. Deep fried something or the other. No salads. No pastas. No babaganoush. No bruschettas. What a waste of money. I eat out too much. My mother says that. My boyfriend's mother says that. People in office say that. Still. Why don't I toast bread, slather on tomato chutney with those expensive basil leaves, spritz olive oil and save myself 400 bucks? No, no pizzas. Fattening. No cheesy lasagnas. No cheese anything. I'm a healthy child. But I want kulfi for dessert. No falooda. I don't like falooda, neither the taste nor the look -- which is second only to tulsi seeds which if you soak in water overnight look like fish eyes. I want kulfi. Never mind the orange bar that we, hungry office dogs in salwar kameezes, just walloped down.

Fish Tikkas. Nicely grilled, almost charred, with lemon juice and salt.

Mmm. (moment's silence).

Maybe toasted chicken sandwiches at the gymkhana after a swim, with cold coffee, two glasses. They serve it in beer glasses and you can sit in the lawn with those giant noisy fans cooling your scalp for you.

If only my stupid, but more food-obsessed-than-anyone-I-know friend would be done writing the book review so that we could march to where the feet take us and put a hot-hot tandoori naan, just out of the oven, lashed with butter and straight into our mouths.


Janaki said...

You've made me hungry now..!!!

The Unbearable Banishment said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Pringle Man said...

This had the same effect of reading Chocolat. I hope you're happy pip.

I love falooda. Though cheekoo seeds look like cockroaches.

Anonymous said...

what the hell are you talking about

where's yashodhan!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



Nimpipi said...

J: We finally had Mexican. :)

UB: Why you deleted? I was going to say unhealthy isn't the prerogative of Americans only. come to my office. Me, no, I don't obsess. I crave sometimes and I sometimes exercise. Happy balance.

El: what's going on with this pringle man business? What happened to Inayat? What happened to wilderness. Chickoo seeds- cockroach, yes. Chikoo-potato confusion also, sometimes, yes.

Anon: Don't tell me your name, at least tell me how old you are. Multiple exclamations, really?
Yashodhan, yes, friend, yes, tennis, yes. Now come clean. Snrub won't do.

heh? ok said...

Oh god, a nan craving. Haven't had one of those in a while. It's not nice to spring inconvenient cravings on unsuspecting readers.

Anonymous said...

I'm an annoying person, that's all.


Anonymous said...

also: YA RLY!!

Mumbai Diva said...

you know this anon? curiosity is killing me.

Nimpipi said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Nimpipi said...

Heh?: Glad to be of service, dear lady. :)Personally though, I attack tandoori parantha over the naan.

Mumbai Dipika: Clueless! Should I be considering comment moderation?

P.S: As of last thursday, I have the same haircut as you. Love it.

The Unbearable Banishment said...

I deleted because after a second reading I thought it was rude.