Nourriture Indienne en France

I called Madame a "butterhead" last night.

Steph unlocks and opens the main door, starts to head out - "Au revoir, Madame, you're a butterhead." "Bonsoir."

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I went out to dinner last night for an early birthday celebration with my friends Heather, Nadia, and Jackie. We went to a cheap, authentic Indian restaurant. Note that there is a significant difference between a cheap restaurant at home and a cheap restaurant in Aix, where even a 'fast' food meal for a single person can cost 10€. The French don't do bad food in restaurants. It would be sacrilege.

My entire meal cost less than 16€, which is almost outrageously cheap here. Nevertheless, it was one of the best meals I've had since arriving in France. The atmosphere of the restaurant was gorgeous. The gentle and unoppressive but warm, hot colors and lighting; the rich decorative details; and the delicious, savory-sweet, and comfortingly ubiquitous smell of Indian cuisine were everywhere.... We sat in a corner of the restaurant, right next to the large picture window that looked out on the cold, rain-drenched street. Even with this bleak contrast, I was warm and happy in my wet clothing and hair. The wall behind us had a pattern of raised, carved flowers. The servers were polite and helpful, though we had no reservation. The table was set with stemmed wine and water glasses. There were golden elephants by the door.

I had a vegetable samosa as an entrée, with sauce. From the fresh-boiled taste of the potato contents, it was obvious that this samosa has not been a cheap, frozen blasphemy of a samosa. You could see hints of the cubes that the potatoes had been cut into for cooking and mashing. There were many fresh peas inside. The envelope was crispy, but not too greasy. Knowledge and love went into both the creation and the destruction of this lovely samosa. What a perfect circle of samosa-life.

For an aperitif I had my first-ever experience with a lassi. It was wonderful in its large, conical glass, while its cool-yellow color and its cool, yogurty-mango taste and smooth texture contrasted and complimented perfectly with the atmosphere of the room. It was deceptively light-tasting. I drank it with a straw.

My main dish consisted of aromatic riz, garlic naan, and a lentil dal. The rice was flavoured with cardamum and another spice whose name I couldn't quite remember. I mentioned to my friends that my Indian mother always seasons her rice with cardamum, but that she also uses cloves and cinnamon. This was my first taste of naan, too. The garlic was fresh and sharp. The bread itself was dense and soft. The creamy, yellow-green dal was tinted orange by the light. It had an obvious layering of spices. I mixed in the deep red, sweet-spicy sauce that I had used on the samosa. I believe it may have been tamarind. My friends shared equally in the rice and naan. Nadia and Heather had chicken tikka masala, and Jackie had a lamb and spinach concoction. It was all so good. So familiar.

I've missed Indian food.