I’m having another quiet Saturday in the city, primarily because my Friday wasn’t so quiet. That’s what I get for meeting Tiff and D. on Restaurant Row for post-work dishing. I think we actually talked about our favorite TV shows for a good four hours, spurred on by a few cocktails. (I vaguely remember something about GH’s Sonny ending up in a purple sparkly gown ala Anna Lee’s Lila and going, “Oh, Edward!”) I got home around 10:30 and promptly microwaved leftover chicken tikka masala and rice for dinner. God it was good. Probably because I was so hungry and it was so late. Everything always tastes better when you’re hungry, doesn’t it? Sometimes you scarf down something that, on a different day, might not taste nearly as delicious to you.

I tend to be very hit and miss with chicken tikka masala, since most places make it with that freakishly bright red sauce that looks like it could in no way come from anything natural. (It’s like a cardinal abuse of paprika.) The place near my apartment has changed their menu for the trillionth time in the last year and has a new version that’s not quite so bright (more orange than red) or so sugary sweet. Also, I can’t shake the feeling that chicken tikka masala is a made up Indian food, because, I swear, it’s not a dish I ever remember seeing in restaurants when I was growing up. Maybe it’s not fake. Maybe it made the transition sometime in the last ten years. But it still feels odd to me!

I’m trying to rack my brain for other “fake” ethnic foods that were basically invented in the U.S. and have become standard parts of ethnic restaurant menus. I keep coming back to chop suey, but I think there’s an Italian dish, too, and I caaaaan’t rememberrrrrrrr.

At some point, I think I’m doing a Borders and Bath & Bodyworks run, so I can pick up Christmas presents for Mom. That involves leaving the house, though. Hrm.