How I survived St. Pat's

As planned, we made it up to Bhabi's Kitchen on Devon and had the privilege of being waited upon by Bhabi herself. (This isn't a given name, rather a word meaning "sister-in-law"; it's a polite form of address for married females. So the name of the restaurant is something like "Auntie's Kitchen".) When I ordered my dish, I naturally used the Panjabi name rather than the Hindi one printed on the menu, which sent her into fits of laughter. It seems this was a good thing though; when asked about it, she meerily replied, "You're speaking my language!" That was all I attempted, however.

So the only green food on the table was the saryon da saag (or, if you must, sarson ka saag) and the hari chutney. The latter was served alongside tamarind chutney and raita, so we were able to make little Italian flags on our plates. Viva San Giuseppe! Besides the makki di roti, we had bread made from chickpea flour (besan) and her special naan with onions and green pepper. "Like pizza," she told us, "only without the cheese!"

monshu regretted not getting a lamb dish. The haleem he ordered was interesting, but no substitute. There was nothing at all wrong with the mattar paneer, but I thought the standout dish of the night was the butter chicken. The texture was truly astounding: So firm yet tender that at first I was wondering if she had given us a version made with fish instead. Oh, and I should definitely mention the samosas (vegetable and meat), which were outstanding.

While we were killing time before dinner, monshu and I saw a convoy of flag-waving SUVs amid much honking and stereo-blasting. I figured it had something to do with the World Cup of Cricket now in progress, but I didn't recognise the red circle on a dark green field as the national flag of Bangladesh. It was only when I got home that I discovered that it was the bongs rubbing their surprise victory over India into everyone's faces. (Not least of all those of the Pakistanis, who were similarly upset by the Irish national team.)

After dinner, we finished off at King Sweets. I was intrigued by the dal pini, doubly so when I asked the clerk about it and he actively discouraged me from buying it. It wasn't bad--in its butteriness and grainy texture, it rather reminded me of khulfi--but I probably won't order it again. Not when there's the best kaju katli and habshi halwa in town to be had instead.