Lunch

Dammit. I always forget to write these things down. Yesterday, I had lunch with Ben and Justin and Mike. We went to that cab driver place (all the cabbies seem to gravitate there), and I’m blanking on the name. Indian food and good at that!

It’s a mix of mild and spicy, which is surprising because I’m not someone that does well with spicy. My sister? No problem, she can throw down spicy food till the cows come home. But me? A few bites and I’m sweating like nobody’s business.

*sigh* And here, yet again, is my memory going to hell. Afterwards, they have a guy who makes this thing. Pan? Zata… something. CRAP. I can’t remember.

Anyhow, it’s meant to be something you chew and spit out. It’s designed to clear the palette (sp?) and, according to Ben and Justin, packs a mean buzz. I’ve only ever had a few bites, and could never make it through a whole one of these things. Each one is about 50 cents.

You’re just supposed to maw into the thing, leaf and all. There’s a mix of crap in there that I can’t even keep track of – seeds, some other seed looking stuff, some sort of paste, a few powdery things that are shaken in. I’ve gone to this place with Justin and Ben late at night… and the guy who prepares this stuff at those hours is nothing shy of a god. One of these days, I need to try to ask them if I could record the process. Cool stuff.

I took a bite on our walk back. The funny thing about this stuff is that, when you spit it out, you spit blood red. To others walking by, I swear it must look like we were all tripping on peyote and puking up in the street while we were walking.