Don’t tikka me off…

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.

4 thoughts on “Don’t tikka me off…

  1. dude, seriously…what is UP with the coloration of the chicken tikka masala (my personal favorite dish)?
    There was a place in Sunnyvale, CA that had the BEST. Guess what? When I went back last February/March… IT WAS CLOSED.
    Woe is me. I was dreaming about it while flying across the country.
    When we got there and found that it had been closed, we wept hot tears, my good woman.
    There is another place that’s okay, but how they can mess up samosas really gets to me.
    I mean, if you can get everything else right, what is UP with not being able to make a good filling for my samosas, man?

    Thus ends yet another rant.
    And thank you for making me cry in my yogurt.
    I’ve got a yen for chicken tikka…you are one mean bi*ch.
    Damn you to HELL!
    (picture me shaking my fist at you all dramatic-like)


  2. now i’m making that ‘indeed’ face that you know i make when you or one of your merry band makes an apropos snide comment.

    what the heck, man? you KNOW you’re cravin it and getting excited like you’re on a date with a guy you truly dig and who shows up? His crazy brother-in-law Larry with a message that you ‘may’ get mono…mysteriously.



  3. Me and my merry band have not snidely commented in front of you in entirely too long!

    On the up side, I have still not run into anyone’s crazy brother-in-law Larry.


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