As usual, no photos. When I eat, I eat. No distractions.
Swaty has, over a period of 48 hours, become something of a friend (Yes, all my friends are from my online life. Yes, I have no life. Can we talk about this later? Thanks). We have had conversations about our jams, and her new startup, and it was with the intention to be part of something beautiful (her and Danish’s startup, Riwayat) that we decided to order. OK, to begin with, the number given on the card with a “WhatsApp only” notice didn’t have WhatsApp on it! But we didn’t let it deter us, and we simply called her and demanded we be fed!
Unfortunately, as luck would have it (I haven’t had my own mum saying, “No” so often to me as Life has), I had to rush to see Joravar and Aniruddha (more on that later. No, forget it. It’s not important), and Natasha Singh-Gadgil (who we lovingly call “Tashuji”), my (much) better half was the one saddled with a huge dinner of authentic Awadhi food delivered dot on time (with regular follow-ups from the lady herself. Not my wife. From Swaty. No, I didn’t mean my wife isn’t a lady. Can you please.just.stop.interrupting? OK).
So, here’s what we ordered: Seekh Kabab Roll, Mutton Biryani, and Bhutta Murg (more because they had, like all good food startups, run out of food by the time we awoke to the need to feed). No dessert, unfortunately (they were sold out). Swaty told me, “सब कुछ ख़त्म हो गया…” which, as far as I am concerned, is a great sentence to say with some reasonable satisfaction…except if you are a doctor, of course. Then, it’s not that good.
But we are digressing. So, back to the story.
While I was getting punched drunk at Zoras (separate review, Kedar. Not here), my wife seems to have finished *everything*…so, I come home, sleep, wake up the next morning with an ALL-MIGHTY hangover and forage for food in the cool box only to find 4 pieces of Bhutta Murg. I heat them up, take one bite…and that’s all I remember. The next thing I know, there’s an empty plate, and my ज़मीर telling me that I owe her a review.
To be fair to my ज़मीर, I haven’t eaten much of Riwayat’s food, and that which I have, I have no recollection of except my stomach kind of feels full and my taste buds are orgasming like a porn star with special effects.
So, here’s a hypothesis, and do correct me if I missed something: The chicken melted in my mouth, dissolved into my tongue, reached my brain, and blew it up into about a million pieces, all of which were miraculously put back together, at least enough for me to write coherent (?) sentences.
What do you think?
P.S.: Swaty, you owe me a dessert!
Correction: Swaty writes: ‘Kedar what you ate was Bhatti Ka Murgh, not “Bhutta Murgh”!! The rolls that were delivered were Shaami Kebab rolls and not Seekh rolls, but then what’s in a name.” So, I stand corrected…but also vindicated that my brains had truly exploded. So there!
