Indian Food and Daughter No. 1…

By jen

Daughter No. 1, the brilliant one with all the good grades and scholarships to a&m in the fall, she is a goober.  As a child she was the most picky eater on the planet.  As a small child I believe she lived off green beans and mashed potatoes for a year, then staunchly refused to ever eat them again.  She was big girl, after all, and big girls apparently eat nothing but chicken flavored ramen noodles.  At nine she would pretty much only eat cheese pizza and drink Evian water.  At 18 she still strains the chunky goodness out of sauces before she tops pasta or rice, but at least she is a bit more adventurous.    She will at least TRY things now.

A while back it was Thai, which she wasn’t a fan of, but gave it the good college try.  Last night, we decided to go as a family to have Indian food; something she hasn’t eaten before.  Mind you, the 9, 8, and 4 year old daughters are troopers and while they will not always eat something differnt they will usually try it and with rice to spare in any indian joint I felt certain their meal would end up being white basmati and garlic Nan.

Being newly paid and having a bank account that didn’t give me hives we ordered a few different things to share and give eveyone a good variety.  Since vegitables are the devil to my children there was no aloo gabi to be had, damn shame that, but we went the way of the carnivore.  Daughter No. 1 likes spicy food so there was more than average hope of her liking maybe something on the menu.  We ordered some Biryani, Dal Lamb, and two kinds of Vindaloo; lamb and prawns as well as three orders of Nan to hold everyone over until the food arrived; 2 garlic and 1 Keema Nan which has pressed lamb in the middle of it.

The Nan arrived with two bowls of dippy stuff; the green spicy one and some brown sweet one.  I do not know what those are, I am not as well versed in Indian as some other cuisines.  The little ones are inhaling the garlic Nan and Daughter No. 1 takes one of each.  She tastes the simply scrumptious garlic one and tears off a piece, chewing and pondering.

Daughter No. 1 then says, “This tastes like nothing…”

I said, “Well put some of the spicy green goop on it.”

She raised an eyebrow at me; this is a genetic gift I passed onto this offspring as well as the bodacious rack which we have told her is to be used only for the powers of good when she goes off to college, like help on hard homework from the geeky but lovable smart boy in the Honors dorm she was accepted into or help fixing a flat from another big strong co-ed; you know… the shit that matters.  Anyway, with said raised eyebrow she says, “You mean that stuff that tastes like Salsa  Verde at the mexican joint?”

I raised my own eyebrow at her and sighed in exasperation, “Yes, love… the salsa verde.”

“But we are eating Indian food, why is there Mexican salsa on the table?”  She askes incredulously.

“It is one of life’s little mysteries, Dear…”

She then moves to the Keema Nan, unimpressed with the garlic variety she bites into what sort of looks like pizza without the cheese.  She cocks the eyebrow again with a bit of head action.  “Not bad…”  she says.  “I am still not putting Salsa Verde on it though.”

I take my victories where I can and go about enjoying the meal.  Daughter No. 2, the 9 year old, has decided to gulp down her water goblet which she loves cuz it looks like a wine glass so that she can pour her Dr. Pepper into it and drink from a proper glass.  She is smuggly satisfied and still gnawing on the Garlic Nan.  About this time Daughter No. 1 has an epiphany of sorts.

“You know what this tastes like?”  She said seriously.

“Enlighten me, sweetheart.”  I say lovingly to my firstborn.

“You know when you swallow food you get a smell come back up in your nose?”

“What?”

“You know, whenever you eat something you always get a smell when you swallow.”  She is perplexed by my lack of knowing something so elementary.

“Not really, Daughter No. 1.”

“Well my point is, that taste coming back up when I swallow, you know?  It tastes like my arm smells.”  She says this with total conviction and without a clue she sounds like a stark raving lunatic.

After I swallowed my own bite of Nan, trying not to choke to death I said, “Excuse me?”

She says it again, I didn’t misunderstand her.

“You are saying that Keema Nan tastes like human flesh smells?”  I am not even sure I know what that means, but I was trying to speak her language.

“Exactly!”  She exclaims as though finally vindicated.

“There is something wrong with you, child.”  I say looking at my husband who is suddenly glad he did not mix our DNA since this is a possible outcome.  He just shrugs and continues to eat his Nan.  “I did not drink while I was pregnant with her, I swear it.”  He just shook his head.  “Really!  Her father was an idiot, this is not my DNA in action.”

Daughter No. 1 is of course oblivious to this exchange happy that I finally understand.

Meanwhile I have Daughter No. 2 now saying, “Ewww it tastes like skin?”  while making a face that spoke volumes about what she thought about that.

Daughter No. 4 was just eating Nan with a big smile probably planning her first phase of world domination.  Daughter No. 3 was just giggling at Daughter No. 1 because she things her big sister is the coolest thing ever.

The rest of the meal was delicious and Daughter No. 1 did manage to eat and not hate everything. Ironically she ate all the potatoes out of the different dishes so I could have gotten Aloo Gabi after all!  I asked for a order of Kheer, Indian style rice pudding which is really the best part of the meal for me and very good at putting out the fire my Vindaloo set off in my belly and esophagus.  My husband hates this stuff.  Daughter No. 3 liked it, Daughter No. 1 liked it, Daughter No. 4 wouldn’t taste it, and Daughter No. 2 tasted it and nearly activated her gag reflex on the texture.  Daughter No. 3 called her dumb as she shoveled it in her mouth.  The husband, who previously hated Kheer has decided it is delicious because after tasting it the fire in his belly subsided.

All in all, it was a good meal with plenty of leftovers.  We grabbed a handful of rock sugar candy on the way out the door and headed home to enjoy our heartburn.

It tastes like Human flesh smells?  I am still confused.