Thursday, August 10, 2006
Nothings Perfect
Would you go back for more of the best Indian in town after finding a hair?
When I say the best Indian, I mean it. The samosas are like a good kiss, smooth and sweet and an underlying spice that keeps you in the moment. And if those samosas are like a kiss, then the Baigan Bharta is something inappropriate for this blog. For an eggplant lover and leaver, the Baigan Bharta is something amazing, revered and feared.
Bad Baigan Bharta can leave you unable to so much as look at an eggplant. But this Bharta was far from bad. It was something wonderful and sweet, cinnamon and cumin mixing together to keep you coming back for more. Chase it with a cool, post-meal Taj Mahal and you’ve wrapped this little tryst up in perfection.
Just like no restaurant is without flies, no person is without flaws. The result is what you do with that realization. Do you forget the meal, the restaurant and the man as easily as you used to forget your homework? When you’ve found a hair in your Bharta, should you write off the restaurant?
Everybody’s instincts vary, but mine is typically to run. Slam down the plate, throw out some money and get the Aloo Gobi outta there. Whether he’s too into me, jobless, Republican or a liar, the proverbial hair will always send me packing. And I won’t be taking a doggie bag. So now that I’ve sworn off the imperfection, what happens when taste brings me back, peering at that same menu, looking for flavors of the past?
You won’t catch me back at the same restaurant after a bad tasting meal. So what’s so different about a good meal gone bad? The difference is the kind memory. The memory of eggplant lovin’ and a samosa kiss stays. Forgotten was the feeling of run-walking out of the restaurant knowing in my heart of hearts that I would never ever taste that eggplant again. Only the fondness of good meals, Kingfisher and friends remained.
By now you can guess that I’ve gone back. The flavor was just as sweet, smooth and spicy as before. I’ve returned for the piquant goodness that was. It’s different now because no matter what the flavors, I’m wise to it. I’m wise what can be reduced to a restaurant in desperate need of a hairnet.
The bad is never forgotten, only accepted or overlooked. The bad comes to us right next to the good. Since no matter where we go, there will always be flaws and flies, we have to decide, what’s worth forgetting and what is a memory worth.
When I say the best Indian, I mean it. The samosas are like a good kiss, smooth and sweet and an underlying spice that keeps you in the moment. And if those samosas are like a kiss, then the Baigan Bharta is something inappropriate for this blog. For an eggplant lover and leaver, the Baigan Bharta is something amazing, revered and feared.
Bad Baigan Bharta can leave you unable to so much as look at an eggplant. But this Bharta was far from bad. It was something wonderful and sweet, cinnamon and cumin mixing together to keep you coming back for more. Chase it with a cool, post-meal Taj Mahal and you’ve wrapped this little tryst up in perfection.
Just like no restaurant is without flies, no person is without flaws. The result is what you do with that realization. Do you forget the meal, the restaurant and the man as easily as you used to forget your homework? When you’ve found a hair in your Bharta, should you write off the restaurant?
Everybody’s instincts vary, but mine is typically to run. Slam down the plate, throw out some money and get the Aloo Gobi outta there. Whether he’s too into me, jobless, Republican or a liar, the proverbial hair will always send me packing. And I won’t be taking a doggie bag. So now that I’ve sworn off the imperfection, what happens when taste brings me back, peering at that same menu, looking for flavors of the past?
You won’t catch me back at the same restaurant after a bad tasting meal. So what’s so different about a good meal gone bad? The difference is the kind memory. The memory of eggplant lovin’ and a samosa kiss stays. Forgotten was the feeling of run-walking out of the restaurant knowing in my heart of hearts that I would never ever taste that eggplant again. Only the fondness of good meals, Kingfisher and friends remained.
By now you can guess that I’ve gone back. The flavor was just as sweet, smooth and spicy as before. I’ve returned for the piquant goodness that was. It’s different now because no matter what the flavors, I’m wise to it. I’m wise what can be reduced to a restaurant in desperate need of a hairnet.
The bad is never forgotten, only accepted or overlooked. The bad comes to us right next to the good. Since no matter where we go, there will always be flaws and flies, we have to decide, what’s worth forgetting and what is a memory worth.
