H got into town the day after Thanksgiving, and when we went to my parents’ house, my mom served up the choicest cuts of turkey leftovers along with some of her homemade cilantro chutney. Personally, I found this particular batch of the sauce to be really potent and chased my little dab of it with a big mouthful of mashed potatoes, but H was all about it, slathering it all over the turkey and going back for more and more. Frankly, I was a little surprised, but he earned some major cool points with my mom just by being himself.
The next day, we headed over to BW-3s/Buffalo Wild Wings (an old favorite from my Champaign days) and ordered up some medium-heat hot wings and appetizers. For some reason, I wasn’t able to handle it—my nose started running and my tongue was lolling just a little bit. H was looking at me like my hair had spontaneously burst into small, flickering flames, because normally I like things pretty spicy.
“That’s it,” he said. “I think I might have to revoke your Indian license.”
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5 comments:
Pretty funny!
I'm usually not into spicy foods, but I visited a friend this weekend, and she is. I survived her cooking.
Is that legal grounds for revoking your license?
Uh-oh. Isn't there at least a 3 strike deal? This sounds serious.
Tell him it's just a phase; for some reason your tastebuds and sinuses are temporarily disconnected from your centers of higher reasoning.
Or a virus. Possibly. Oooh, gee, I hope H doesn't catch it...
;-)
lol damn dont u hate it when the non asians out spice you.
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