naaaaaan

In India, They Just Call It “Food”

The humans are trying a new restaurant tonight.  Well, it isn’t actually new.  It has been here for a number of years.  They just haven’t gotten up off their fundaments to give it a try, despite the fact that they both like Indian cuisine.  Sigyn and I are tagging along.  We haven’t had any good Indian food since London.

You must forgive the photos–the lighting is low and the human female’s phone thinks this is the cue to make everything purple.

The meal is starting in the usual manner, with flat, breaky things.

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Sigyn and I are old pros at these.  There should be sauces–

And here they are!  I like the hot one.  Sigyn, of course, is going straight for the sweet one.

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The humans have ordered fried pillows.  Why would you do that?

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Oh.  I have been informed that these pillows are full of spicy potatoes and peas, and not polyester fiberfill.  The lack of  a “this notice not to be removed except by the consumer” tag should have tipped me off.

The entrees are here.  The female, being both boring and predictable, has ordered chicken tikka.  Woman, you DO know that’s not actually an Indian dish, right?

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Perhaps the male will have something a little more interesting.  Ah.  Lamb biryani.  That’s a bit better.  And if you don’t want lamb, Sigyn, you can always fill up on naan.

(later)  We have come to the “steaming towel” portion of the evening.

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(poke, poke, poke)  Nice and hot.  All meals should end in this fashion!  When I become sole ruler of Midgard, I shall see that they do!

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