Dinnertime!

Just like Americans, Indians think of dinner as the big meal of the day.

Lunch and breakfast come in second – pretty much neck and neck I’ve noticed – but dinner wins by a good three lengths.

The simple reason: meat. 

Many Indians are vegetarians but most of them aren’t. And dinner is the meatiest mealtime. Of course you won’t find a bacon burger on the menu here. Hindus don’t eat beef and Muslims don’t eat pork. So rather than squabble, nobody eats either. I’ve been able to find both but the “beef” was water buffalo which was kind of tough and the pork, although freshly butchered and porky-tasting, was not cut identifiably (like chops, loin, bacon, etc…).

Mutton is also popular here – just not with me. Mutton in England is sheep – here, it’s goat. Either way I say blagh! But don’t let that stop you.

The exception that proves the rule is Indian sausage. It’s not bad. Like western sausage, its contents are mysterious (lots of mutton in there I’m told). Upton Sinclair would roll his eyes in his grave. If he’d just stop and take a bite, I think he’d say, “Hmm. Not bad.”

But if you like chicken, fish or lamb, you’ll like dinner just about anywhere in India. 

Restaurants in America don’t have a “meat side” – everything’s got meat of course – but they usually have a vegetarian side (with a gluten-free side rising). In India it’s reversed – there’s “veg” and”non-veg”. Gluten-free isn’t on the radar yet although we found a very nice restaurant in Vijayawada that could do it. 

Indians don’t eat as much protein as Americans. My Fatty Boy American Weight is between 175-180 pounds. But after four months in India, I’m down to 160. “Good and skinny.” sez I. “Nearly overweight for a five-foot-eight-inch male.” sez my doctor’s officious weight chart. (Why dietitians insist on using such ridiculous, snotty charts like that is beyond me. No wonder two-thirds of Americans go to bed each night and cry themselves to sleep because they’re so fat.)

Even without the meat, Indian dinners can be very tasty. Too tasty for me sometimes. (Indians really know how to load on the spices.)

“Watch this David Uncle!” says an adorable nine-year old girl as she bites into a red chili pepper. I cringe. Just watching her makes my eyes water. She laughs cruelly.

One of my favorite dinners is non-veg Chow Mein (actually I’ve yet to find a noodle dish in India I don’t like).

Another is non-veg Fried Rice and Chapati with chutney.

Somebody made me this goat cheese salad. Very tasty! 

Side Note: Indians say “tasty” the way Americans say “good” or “delicious”. It’s about the only description you hear. Considering how much we humans like to talk about our food, it’s puzzling how few words we have (that don’t sound pretentious) to describe something that tastes “good”. But if a dish tastes “bad”, we’ve got all kinds of adjectives eager to get in their kicks and punches on the fallen menu item. (Awful, disgusting, terrible, nasty, loathsome, icky, nauseating, rotten, lousy, putrid,…) Speaking of which, let us not forget airplane food.

My favorite dinner in India so far came from The Biryani Nazi in Delhi.

Remember The Soup Nazi from Seinfeld? About a street vendor whose soup was so good, customers would endure his nastiest insults rather than be deprived?

I was visiting my friend, Indi, one weekend and he said we were going to stop and get the best chicken biryani in India. We walked into a crowded market and the closer we got to our destination, the more crowded it became. Finally we couldn’t move. We had to wait until the crowd slowly jostled us forward and I thought, “It’s The Biryani Nazi.”

Fortunately, he wasn’t mean. Just an unshaven old guy sitting in front of a hot cauldron dishing out biryani into styrofoam containers as fast as his assistant could take them away. A second assistant quickly shoveled money into a wooden box. Everything was done fast, fast, fast. Finally it was our turn. “Do chowkadi.” Indi said quickly (two quarts). “Veg or non-veg?” We got one of each and got out. Total: 300 rupees (about four bucks.) We caught a motorized rickshaw back to Indi’s (one mile – 80 cents) and when we arrived, the table was already set. 

The biryani was amazing. Very tasty. I now order biryani everywhere I go but no one else’s comes close to The Biryani Nazi of Delhi. His recipe is beyond delicious. It’s ambrosial. (See? Pretentious.)