Last night, for Valentines Day, my husband and I stumbled across a jewel of a restaurant. It is called "Gurupalace: Cuisine of India" the outside is attractive, although not immediately conspicuous from the busy street of Gilbert. When we walked inside, I felt engulfed by the smell of sweet spices that was quite foreign to me. The smell acted as a gateway to another culture.
As my eyes adjust to the low, exotic lighting, my attention is immediately drawn to the beautiful artwork that adorns the walls. Paintings and intricately beaded scenes are hung together where I am used to wallpaper being. Here, a caravan of elephants and royalty being carried on the shoulders of servants on a litter; there, an intricately beaded display of the Taj Mahal. A few pillars are painted with people on them. Some are dancers, and others are Buddhist priests.
As I examine the pictures, I get a strange sensation that I am taking a tour through a different culture, my tour being narrated by the authentic Indian music that enriches the scene. As I look around, I see a wax model of the Taj Mahal, and I also notice a huge, lit, mural of the Taj Mahal. At the time, I only think it's called the Taj Mahal. Something from my social studies in elementary school. I am so enraptured by the scene, that my dear husband is stuck with a very hungry, squealing, baby.
Not being too accustomed to how or what to order, we open up the menu. Although, we are familiar with nothing on the menu save the "Garden Salad" and "Naan"- Which is a sort of flat bread- we order rather quickly. I order "Lamb Curry" and my husband orders "Aloo Palak", which is described as a "curry style" dish. We are both confused about what 'curry' actually means by this point.
I use the backside of my paper place setting to take notes. A young, olive-skinned girl dressed like a normal American teenager, but with very distinct features that I would describe as Indian, comes out to fill our glasses, her black, straight hair loosely pulled back into a pony tail. She apologizes for the wait. We ask her how her night is going. Apparently they are incredibly understaffed and she is really stressed, but very courteous and informative.
Later, a young, bald man with a heavy foreign accent, comes to take our order. After we order, he asks if we want rice with it-it costs extra, you see- we reply that we don't want rice. We did order naan and salad for our baby. The man asks how hot I would like my curry and I learn that "mild to medium" is an appropriate description-as opposed to "kind of hot, but not really,". I thought I was safe.
It took a long time to get our food and in the mean time, we are served 'poppadum' which reminds me of a very thin and crisp tortilla with pepper baked in the batter. It comes with a watery, spicy, cilantro dip.
When we get our food, we each have a single bowl of stuff. Mine is red and reminds me of the texture of spaghetti sauce with chunks of lamb instead of meatballs. My husband's is green and looks like the consistency of spinach dip. Unaccustomed to how to eat Indian food, I try it with my spoon. The fantastic flavor fills every crevice of my mouth, delivering not only delicious taste, but tearing spice! My eyes water immediately. I think to myself "Is this mild?!" My husband's is spicy also, but not nearly as much. I try to cool my mouth down with some salad. It came with a sort of dressing, but I didn't try that at first. With everything only getting hotter as the night went on, I wasn't willing to risk it. When water only added to the heat, and lettuce didn't cut it, my husband suggested I try the dressing.
To my relief, the raita-yogurt and cucumber dressing- is quite possibly the only substance that could have suffocated the burning in my mouth so entirely and so immediately. I share some of my newfound miracle with my baby, who, like me, is having a tough time with anything but the plain naan. We both take turns sipping the dressing from a spoon. I eat my delicious lamb curry with naan and then the raita intermittently. This allows me to enjoy the flavor of the former with the cooling relief of the latter. I feel foolish, but am determined to enjoy my lamb curry.
The check is presented with a container of seeds and a small spoon on top. I ask the server what the seeds are. They are "fennel" seeds and are a breath freshener. I spoon some into my mouth and crunch into a black licorice sensation. My husband is about to follow suit, but knowing his distaste for black licorice, I whisper "black licorice," and he decides against the seeds.
I have to admit my inexperience when it comes to Indian food. Was the food authentic? I am tempted to say it is, because I was not familiar with anything there. It was definitely foreign. Was it good? Yes, I loved it! Spicier than I anticipated, but delicious. Was it good in comparison to other Indian food? I don't really know. I am looking forward to some Indian etiquette lessons... sometime. And when we go to India, I'll tell you the proper way to eat curry :)
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