Whenever I make my occasional visits to the office, my Boss always treats me with a good lunch. It is his way of appreciating the 60 mile commute I make to reach there. He’s either plain nice or he’s too busy to realize that he signs my pay checks and that these gestures of politeness are totally unnecessary, and whether I like it or not, I darn well need to get my fat behind there when he requires me to. I hope though, it is the former. Because I’d hate the day when he’d recover from his amnesia and I’d be left to eat those cold sandwiches from the next door deli. What can I say? My belly has been spoilt rotten with these elegant treats!
At first, when he suggested a nice Indian place, I gladly agreed. Assuming it was the popular preference among my All-American colleagues, I gave no second thought to it. But, during the second and subsequent 3rd and 4th visit when we had exhausted all the fine Indian restaurants of the Marin county, and were redoing the circle, it slowly dawned on me that they were doing it all for me. Me? ME? A thorough bred Indian, who cooked and ate three, sometimes four (I can’t help it, I get hungry) Indian meals a day? No offence implied, but, would you offer a fish cold water? Look, look there’s ice in it. Get excited!!!
Well, I had to get out of it. I couldn’t deprive my greed of those fabulous restaurants and cuisines in the North bay, so waiting for me to explore. I hatched up a plan. I decided to play the pregnant woman & nausea card. It came easy for me. Sincerity has never been one of my finer virtues and I always try to make the best use of the card I’m dealt. So, the next time at work when a colleague, for politeness sake, asked me how I was doing, apart from my usual rants about the discomforts of carrying a 6 lb something being inside me, I threw in how horribly nauseous I was and how Indian food made it worse. I caused sufficient distress in my desperate efforts, volunteering unsanitized and unsolicited information that I literally turned faces green!!! Eventually the whole office had an ear about my beef with Indian food, and come lunch time, the Boss had a miraculous change of plans. That afternoon we all sat at the fine Las Camellias, where we were treated with one of the finest Mexican food that I’ve ever eaten. I was so happy to get out of the previous set up that I couldn’t help but exaggerate how impressed I was. And what do you know? The next time I was making one my sporadic visits, guess where we went for lunch? Las Camellias again!!! I wasn’t joking when I said I went overboard with the praises. My Boss, the nice man that he is, didn’t think twice about taking me anywhere else. All because I’d declared – oooh the food is so divine, I could die here.
So, its been Las Camellias ever since. But, I’m not complaining. The food is indeed divine there. The dying part, I’m not sure though. But, I love it so much, that all the Mexican food I attempt to make, I try to recreate with my memory from there. And the fact that I’ve eaten there quite a number of times now ;), the spices are well registered in my buds that I’ve almost succeeded in making it exactly like they do. Though I hope the chef there never ever ever gets to read this ;)!!!!
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