Cosmic Persuasion

In food on 02/27/2010 at 3:50 pm

Stop the presses! Literally. Some thieving bastard(s) broke into our apartment earlier this week and made off with our three beloved Macs and some heirloom jewelry. The Landlord of the Millenium denies all responsibility, even though there was forced entry into our back door and none in the main door.

Our ‘hood is considered so ‘safe’ that doors are left open all the time, especially by our dear upstairs neighbors, leaving the poor defenseless wooden back door into our part of the house vulnerable. At the end of the day, the emotional violation and mental havoc is far worse than the actual loss of material goods. FYI: Guard cats are unequivocally useless.

Well, despite the fact that we’re pissed beyond belief, we soldier on. In fact, we just returned from a successful apartment search in our new rabbit hole-to be. It is nicknamed the ‘Mile Square’ village, and is now gentrified to the point of being lickety safe, or so we’d like to hope. Metal doors, check.

Our new digs is a two-story carriage house behind the main walk-up structure, which, coincidentally, is the dream abode of the other half. This is news to me. And even better, it’s a ‘fixer-upper.’ So far, I’ve managed to haggle down the rent a bit (thanks economy!), but after our resident contractor presents our version of Hidden Potential to our future landlord, we might strike an even better deal. At this moment however, that potential is definitely suffocating under several feet of snow.

Perhaps the best thing about this forced evacuation is the wealth of ethnic comestibles in the main drag and tucked away corners of our new ‘hood. Maybe we aren’t country mice after all. Does this mean we must say goodbye to our homesteading in Vermont dreams?

For lunch we supped at the Karma Kafé buffet, which is excellent. Each dish was spiced differently and harmoniously, unlike the greasy ulcer-inducing crawfish biryani the other half brought home the other night (which might have been from the same place, but let’s pretend to give them the benefit of the doubt for the sake of this post). My favorite among the goat and chicken dishes was surprisingly a veggie dish, pav bhaji, which I’d never tasted before.

The sparse decor was tasteful, yet solidly ethnic. There were native wooden panels depicting ceremonial worship hanging on the walls, and large long-chained golden bells dangling in a row over the bar in the back. I loved the bejeweled tables made from thick metal wall hangings. I’m not exactly sure what they are. See below, the anise seed after-dinner mint mix is sitting on one.

We were headed to celebrate a somber Chinese New Year’s at Satay, a Malaysian place we spied during the crawl through the Boulevard, but on foot, it was nowhere in sight. Hunger irritability forced us to stop at this place. I usually spurn Indian food, but hey, new years are for turning over a new leaf, whether willingly or not, right?

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