Tandoori Days, Bachata Nights, aka Why You Should Go Ahead and Do It.

I wasn't gonna blog today, but I have to explain to you how I live my life, and why Annandale may actually be perfect for me.

I feed my landlords' cats when they are away, and they pay me for this. It's fair, because I have to commit to showing up twice a day (whereas were I a horn player, I'd just noncommittally show up, or not.) So the landlord paid me today, and I've had biryani on my mind, so I thought I'd go get some.

There's a local restaurant called Tandoori Nights that makes amazing home-cooking-quality Nepalese/Indian cuisine. I usually go there when the sun is still shining.

Ah, but tonight there was club lighting and a police officer out front.  It could be argued that this was a warning sign, and that I should go elsewhere. If you've met me, you know I'm oblivious - warning-sign blind.

"Hello, ma'am," he nodded as he let me pass. I sat at the bar and waited for someone to realise they should speak to me. I asked if I could get food to go.

"Have you been here before?" asked the girl (and I profile her as a Girl, since I have already been identified as a Ma'am) as she handed me the menu.

"Yes," ...but I have never been handed this menu before. There was no Desi food listed. Also, I couldn't read it because the lights kept moving. They probably expected me to ask for help or just give the menu back.  Suddenly I found what could do me in an absence of biryani - BREAKFAST! Specifically, Baleadas de Pollo, por favor.  Ordered. Done and done.

So I chilled with the music and the blinky-lights. There were a few people at tables, and girls in short skirts, and

Latino Karaoke. Yeah.

The MC (this is an acronym which means Master of Ceremonies, no matter how many times people call the person Emcee) shook my hand and introduced himself, and asked whether I sing.


I wish my daughter could be here to laugh in this spot. I do sing. I sing with great fervor, and I do sometimes sing in Spanish, if the song happens to be one of the hits by Maná, like Oye Mi Amor. I sing that at work sometimes, to the same coworker who Snapchats me flipping him off every day.  But I was feeling pretty chill and not like making new friends based on my vocal talents. I didn't do it, Alia. There was a lady who sang very well, while seated at a table doing tequila shots with her friend.  You see?  I was in the right place.

I'm not sure where the demarcation between Nepalese and Honduran (or Indian and Mexican for the locals) happens, but my breakfast baleada was just as home-cooking-amazing as any of the Desi food I've had at the same place. And I didn't get into any trouble, Alia. You see? This is why you should Do the Thing. You might find out you don't like whatever it is you tried, but you tried. Give yourself a trophy for that.

Go there. Eat something.  Tell them the little gray-haired white lady sent you. That may not narrow  down the demographic slice which is Annandale, though. I think I need to open up an Annandale Visitors' Bureau and tell people exactly how to get the most experience possible. Tandoori Nights will be on the tour, most definitely.


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