Certain friend of mine, however, is the patron saint of all things social. Every time I have to go to one of these parties, I close my eyes and pray that she would be there so I could just hide behind her and be invisible to any goof ups that I am the patron saint of. Of course, that would be like an ostrich trying to hide behind a peacock. But well whatever helps with the nerves really. My major issues with these parties are the eating culture and choice of music.

A person with a 22inch waist or something will keep pushing the cheese burst kebabs towards you, saying things like "oh god I am so fat! I really need to stop eating these ! Have some Sheetal go on!"
Frankly, to me these statements made while shoving the finger food tray in my direction sound like trick questions. Especially when these freaks of nature say something like "arre c'mon yaar you've lost so much weight! Mujhe dekho ye ponch jaa hi nahi rahi!". Now the unsaid things are the ones that are circulating your head! To eat or not to eat is the question! Should I refuse and say something like "no yaar I'm trying to loose weight" and earn those looks of respect and appreciation, or should I just pick up that tissue and toothpick and stab those cheesy kebabs... say something like " diet? Why would you bring such blasphemous thoughts to your head? ".

Then comes dinner! That is the real horror cause everyone around you, has a heap of salad, a sprinkling of rice and a dressing of curry, minus any chunks of the harmful potatoes of cauliflowers or god forbid , paneer! I think the reason behind such choices are that they do not want to open their mouth so wide because it would give people opportunities to click weird looking pictures of them or someone would look at their full looking plate and think they are hogging... frankly I don't know what goes on in those famished heads of theirs.

But I eat! And although I prevent heaped up plates and too much finger food, I go home and have dinner again, and this time, I party!
;)

Bon appétit!

You walk in and are surrounded by music from the 70s and 80s. There is a sense of happiness in the smiles of the staff. They don't look like they don't want to be here. The menu is not too big, just like any other sister restaurant of SLIH (like urban tadka, pop tates, masala mantar.) but wht ever is on the menu, is prepared extremely well

Everything served in SLIH is so sumptuous! Be it your steak, your fries, your nachos, your pasta! The smoked shitakes are smoked to perfection! Just unbelievable mojitos! Alfredos so creamy, and steaming, u will want to turn them round and round your tongue! The pizzas are really nice!

Certain things for me decide the level of a restaurant.

#1 on my priorities is the food. Everything else comes later. If a Frankie stall is killer, I will stand in the sun for an hour for the Frankie. That is the kind of food SLIH serves. Their food is truly comforting. The chicken is never over cooked. The fish is always beautifully aromatic. The vegetarian preparations don't feel like they are made for the heck of it. I absolutely love their nachos with beans and salsa... its brilliantly different from other places. The cheese is lightly flavored with oregano... and the nachos are so fresh and crispy! The sizzlers are tasty with prominent flavouring of each element, which is a true rarity. Most sizzlers are bland elsewhere and I hate bland food!

Of course do not leave without trying there crème Brule. It is luscious in texture and the flavour almost surprises you as it engulfs your senses... its like getting tinly little orgasms on you tongue!

Of course I like the ambience. Its not too noisy. The service is great. There is always someone waiting on you but from a comfortable distance and not standing on your head anxiously.

I think a three course meal for two, would cost you anywhere around 1500 or less.

If you carry along a granny who refuses to eat all food videsi, just request your waiter and he shall get you the menu from masala mantar next door!

Another speciality here is you can always ask the chef to customize the meal for you.

Ok hush hush here's a secret for you. Try getting seats near the DJ console and keep sending your favourite song requests requests. Enjoy your food with your music.

I donno about other people, but I definitely like it hot.

Lifting my face out of the toilet seat, i dragged my sight towards the clock in my bathroom. 4:30am. and i had been at the throwing up for two hours already. in between standing up and splashing cold water on my face, i think i smelt a waft of the typical ginger garlic tadka...garlic! With the help of a lot of self talk, I controlled the temptation of barfing again.

I was almost 3 months pregnant.Still trying to settle into marriage and the idea of an being pregnant at 25, a world of chiseled bodies, airkisses and a husband whom i would see for a few hours, twice a week. that is if i got lucky. While drying my hands and trying to ignore the size my nose had swollen to, i told myself, no one could be possibly be cooking at 4 in the morning.

 Turned out, i was wrong, some one at my neighbouring house had an early flight and insisted for breakfast. how do i know? well i guess people in Timbuktu could have heard the profanity of her breakfast talk.especially the part where she asked him to go ***k himself ... why would he want more salt anyway.


i used to and mostly still do, hate the food that my maharaj at home cooks. and i dont mean dislike, i mean hate...
kailash being a "fitness freak", liked whatever my cook prepared.
by whatever, i mean almost always either half, over ,or even uncooked dishes, that all tasted the same, raw slightly bitter green leafy vegetables, dehydrated rice, and ofcourse, salad that tasted like fodder...


But me, a hard core kashir kouyr(kashmiri girl), who comes from a community that puts in unnatural effort and pride into their cusine. a community that couldnt stand plain non fragrant, dehydrated looking rice, a community that equated a single, yellowing(unfresh) leaf of monj haakh, to absolute disrespect, no one will ever know how i survived that torture.i tried to go back to sleep, i had to make sure i would be alright by evening. i had to visit my parent's tonight... kailash was finally in town after 15 days.


all day i chewed on a sweet mint and had lots of juices... at lunch and dinner time, i would lock myself up in my room, making sure the ginger garlic tadka smell doesnt reach my nostrils.


i needed to go back home. my home. my room, my bed, my cupboard, alas now my sister's. My mum would fuss over me all the time since she found out i was expecting. but i purposely decided to go through the pregnancy alone... it was a test. if it didnt kill me, i would only get stronger. but of course i wasnt strong all the time. i had always heard that you miss your mum's food when you grow up... but this was not just missing food. this was missing the feeling of belonging. of being looked after, of not being the one in charge or responsible. this was about huge potatoes meticulously picked washed till shiny, peeled boiled, pierced, deep fried, set aside with a sprinkling of sea salt, then cooked for a long, hot time in the kitchen, in the choicest and most favourite of kashmiri spices.it was about the ultimate comfort food, authentic kashmiri dumaloo's cooked by mum in her fussily clean kitchen... it was about the aroma of saunf and saunth that lingered to the hall slowly and made the most disciplined figure watchers convert to kashir food lovers. it was about being a child again...
it was about knowing mum's in the kitchen and in charge.


when kailash finally came home, i got dressed, and after putting half a kilo of concealer on my pregnancy discoloured nose and then wiping it off,and putting it again and wiping it off and finally, just washing my face, i went into the living room.
there was my dear beloved husband, having dinner!
no points guessing, the same crappy gobhi aloo whose slightest whiff would send me straight back to the nausea. for those who were wondering why i hadn't attacked my husband as yet, well i had come to terms with his "healthy diet" before i got married. So initially, each time he would go to my parents he would eat his dinner at home first and i would then go to mum's and eat there. this way he avoided masala and oil and i avoided depression.


well, on our way to my mum's i was thinking about all those cooking experiments my dad and i would do and leave my mum's other wise shiny kitchen in a mess. i was hoping that i would walk into the kitchen and see my mum preparing leydyur tchsaman(yellow cottage cheese) one one burner and vozul nadyur(spicy red wolly lotus stem) on the other. ahhh and i would make my famous chass... then we would spread a sheet in the middle of the wall to wall bethak and eat! for me that would be a first in days!
i would lie to her about how easy and smooth my pregnancy is going, as she would spread piping hot, very moist rice straight from the pressure cooker in my brass parat. she would fuss about how i was getting out late (inspite of her warning me of evil spirits that do the rounds at night waiting to pounce on pregnant ladies...). and i would whine to dad how he didnt love me any more cause he hadnt prepared our original, patented, experimental success, aloochatyn(a preparation of grated potatoes.)
i asked kailash to call mum and tell her we would be reaching home in a few minutes and kailash looked cutely puzzled. he was under the impression that it was supposed to be a surprise.
i do not remember being more proud of my self control than i was at that moment.
in my mind, i saw the insides of the car melting in the heat radiating from my head... and i opened my mouth and blasted a force beam of destructive lava at my husband u would be under impressions once too often for me...
i didnt know what to do... i knew i was being silly... it was just food after all. i could easily go to the plushest restaurants in the city.why the fuss? i felt like crying like a child... with a sad face, i went to my mum's place.. she couldnt stop kissing me on seeing me. she was so happy! it made me feel better. finally she asked my sister to lay the sheet for food... i walked in to the kitchen and saw some four or five huge bowls kept stacked... i un covered one... and couldnt believe my luck... i asked mum how did she know i was coming ? i was weeping... finally! my mum replied wiping my tears ever so lovingly,"i didnt. i was missing you."


i couldnt stop weeping in her arms... she got slightly worried and in that crammed kitchen asked me "kyah goi mri shoosh? wadaan kyazchak?" (what's wrong flesh of my heart? why the tears?)


and i said finally smiling, "nothing maa, boychh ous lajymout..."
(i was feeling hungry...)