Dining at Lal's

Tonight a group of us decided to have dinner at Lal's Indian restaurant near the SXM airport. It is one of my favorite little places to eat and since Lal is closing for 3 weeks starting tomorrow I decided one more fix was in order. I honestly don't know how my body will react to tamarind, cumin, and curry withdraw and frankly I am afraid.

In attendance was: Kathy, Rileigh, Libby, Rachelle, Brian, Grace, Om, and "Jersey" Pete. Pete is an Indian food virgin and with some encouragement decided to order the Chicken Vindaloo.
Brian also decided he wanted the Chicken Vindaloo but being of a more hearty constitution ordered his "Extra Spicy".

A quick side note: ordering your food "extra spicy" in an Indian restaurant is akin to issuing a challenge to the chef. Sort of a machismo dripping gauntlet laid down at the feet of the purveyor of the spice. In short- I do not recommend it. Ever.

Back to our story, as luck (and by luck, I mean waitress error) would have it, we soon discovered that Brian's "extra spicy" suicide plate was given to Pete. When the food was delivered to our table Pete excitedly dug in; pouring his entire portion of Chicken Vindaloo over a plate of rice and greedily sampled the fare...

What happened next was quite a sight. In an instant I witnessed a distinct change in my good buddy and fellow Yankee. An almost frightened and pathetic look washed across his mug. The same sort of look I imagine one gets after say, dropping a running chainsaw in one's lap and being afraid to look down and see the carnage. Pete began sweating. Profusely- like a priest at a Cub Scout meeting. Downing his signature Chardonnay, he began stealing bread from Grace to extinguish the fire in his mouth. Rivulets of sweat (and quite possibly tears) began streaming down his face when he quickly decided he was finished dining for the evening. Brian meanwhile commented that his Chicken was good but not really spicy. (some guys are mean)

I was so impressed with this I had to try some. I admit although I like spicy food a bunch and eat it quite frequently, this food was insanely hot. I can only imagine how poor Pete felt during his first (and I suspect last) foray into Indian cuisine.

Some good came of this I suppose. I coined a new term. I said the food was....

"Hotter than a double-jointed lesbian convention".

I crack myself up!