Favouring curry

Looks like I've added a new stop to my weekly lunch circuit: Bombay Indian Gril. Jay and Hera are on vacation this week so I gave this place another try and I'm still reasonably pleased. Nothing special, just better-than-average off-Devon North Indian at reasonable prices. For instance, chicken qorma with naan set me back $10 with tip. (Given the calibre of the waitstaff, I'd've preferred it if they'd saved me that surcharge by taking more of a takeaway/cafeteria approach. Last week, the waitron broke a water glass clearing a table setting and this week's server had all the charm of a street person.) I'll be interested to discover the quality of the meat in their slightly more pricey lamb and shrimp dishes. The "samosas" and "salad" (mmm, iceberg!) accompanying lunch entrees are a joke and I've never had a more revolting mango lassi. But the otherwise the food is hot, tasty, and extraordinary quick to arrive. Previously, our one choice downtown was Mount Everest, which despite its claim to being the only Nepali restaurant in Greater Chicago scarcely serves a thing you couldn't find at any other (North) Indian place. Moreover, they're farther from campus and their main claim to fame is a mediocre buffet twice the price of a BIG entree. (And of course the last thing I need is more pressure to overeat.)

For someone who lives a block off Devon, I just don't go for Indian as often as I like. Fortunately, my visitors are quick to drag me there. Last Sunday, Bumiputri and I worked up a helluva appetite trekking across Rosehill to the Shedd family crypt. We'd talked earlier about hitting the Indonesian restaurant on Howard, but instead she wanted something in Little Karachi. Forgetting that she was piscatarian, I chose Usmania, a grill house, because I was curious about the new location. But that prompted me to plump for something I normally would've overlooked, the grilled sea bass. (When I asked our serve what kind of fish it was, I heard him reply "shibaaz", which I took to be Hindustani. Bumiputri had to "translate" it for me.) Afterwards, she treated me to chai and mitthai at King Sweets and I discovered that Pakistanis also candy winter melon (a.k.a. peṭhā) and do so in a way that's more toothsome than the Cantonese. (Or perhaps it's just KS and their light hand with the sugar.) She also introduced me to something they termed "maysu" and whose true identity is still mysterious to me.

(no subject)

In other news, saw Mr JH at the shuttle stop again this morning. He had a companion with him--a portly, bearded companion; if I hadn't been engrossed in conversation with a fresh-faced and bright-eyed journalism student, I'd've hit on him.

Also, not one of you has an opinion (informed or otherwise) to offer on Andre Dubus? How disappointing! Looks like I'll have to go with me first instincts after all.