As you know, dear reader, neither Tigger nor I cook. Tigger knows how to work the microwave, which I think awfully clever of her, and thus crafts our evening repast. Tiggerish cuisine tends to be a tad unusual but it is tasty and nutritious and who wants to eat the same old stuff all one’s life?
Sometimes we go out to eat. In fact, we go out quite a lot, especially over the weekend. It’s only fair to give the microwave time off and ourselves a treat. If we don’t go out and don’t feel like putting the microwave through its paces, with have another string to our bow: we ring up a certain small Indian restaurant in Chapel Market and order a take-away.
The curious (and hungry) among you may wish me to impart the name of the restaurant. After all, we have been using it regularly for 18 months, at least once a week, so it must be good. I will not, however, tell you the name, not this time, anyway, because I don’t want this post to be mistaken for blatant advertising.
Here’s how it works. I phone the restaurant and announce my name. I like to tell people my name because then they remember me for next time. I have been calling this restaurant so long that I don’t really need to say my name as the manager recognizes my voice. He is very amiable. I order 2 motor panir and 2 vegetable rice. They throw in a pappadum and some raita. Well, not throw in, exactly; more place it in carefully. Pappadums can be fragile. “It will be ready in 20 minutes,” he says but I go sooner than that because it is often ready sooner than that and I don’t want it to get cold.
When I arrive at the restaurant the manager courteously seats me and tells me that “It’ll be ready in a minute.” Sometimes it is; sometimes it is ready in several minutes, depending on how busy they are. Sometimes we chat about the restaurant and the decorating he has been doing and how thoughtless customers are: they stay away in droves and then suddenly all come to the restaurant at once. Most inconsiderate. They really should get organized.
Eventually the food appears and off I go. In the meantime, Tigger has made the tea and she dishes up the food while I eat the pappadum.
In case you are curious as to the restaurant with which we enjoy this intimate relationship, here is a clue. You will have to go into the restaurant to use it, though. On the wall is a poster bearing a picture of a beautiful tiger – one of the reasons why I like the place – and the legend His eye sees every precious thing.