Rosemary Sauce

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

It was the first day of summer and Izzy’s twelfth birthday. The evening before had been quite enjoyable. OLeif drove them all – Diana, Collette, Bing, and Carrie-Bri – to the India Palace. After first having taken the hotel-staff elevator by mistake, they located the guest-friendly version and wound up in the correct place.

“Oooooh!” They all exclaimed as the elevator door opened.

“Quick,” Carrie-Bri exclaimed. “Don’t act impressed.”

The restaurant was designed to resemble an actual eating place from the country. A fountain sat in the atrium composed of shells and pumice stones and a small stone idol. The basin of the fountain had been painted a sky blue. Exotic lamps hung from the bamboo-woven ceiling, some of them quite large and woven, casting orange and red glows. On both sides of the restaurant, great windows spread over the landscape where one could see airplanes landing at the airport. As night came on, little lamps were lit at the tables reflecting the images of India hanging on all the walls in painting form. It was quite impressive.

Meanwhile, as they waited for their food, Diana commenced to express her interest in the exotic atmosphere and culture of the place.

“I dare you to go up to that guy,” she said to Carrie, “and ask him if he’s related to Osama bin Laden.”

“I’ll do it for ten bucks,” Carrie said, seriously, apparently.

“OK – do it.”

“Alright, as we’re leaving.”

Apparently someone forgot that Osama bin Laden was not Indian.

“Wait – you’re willing to pay Carrie ten bucks,” OLeif was saying, “to ask that guy a quick question. But you don’t want to pay eight to see Batman?”

“Right, you’re right,” Diana said. “Would you do it for five?”

“No.”

And that was the end of that.

Meanwhile, the food was brought in after an appetizer of sweet crunchy tortillas of sorts, with a thick green dip and brown sauce. Each was then brought a dinner dish which was wiped clean by the waiter before serving. Then a great tray was brought in and all but OLeif received an oblong silver tray of meat in sauce. Carrie and Diana went for the lamb, some in tomato sauce, and some in a rosemary sauce which turned Carrie’s stomach. Shortly after sampling the dish, her face turned white.

“Oh, lordie.”

Collette knew that face.

“Whatever you do, please, don’t let it loose.” She cautioned her from across the table.

“What does it taste like?” OLeif asked.

“Christmas potpourri,” Carrie’s face turned ever whiter.

However, OLeif ended up taking her dish, and Collette and Diana shared some of their lamb and chicken.

OLeif had been brought a dish that sizzled on a black platter, and continued to sizzle and steam for awhile with sausage, giant prawn, curried chicken, fish, onions, and lemon. Bing ordered the spiciest dish on the menu, and for the very first time, his face turned red and his eyes almost seemed to water. Mr. Tabasco-Sauce had finally met his match.

After about twenty minutes, their noses began to run, and there was an abnormal amount of refill on their water glasses. But there was a lull soon as they finished off the remains and the basket of good flat bread.

“Hey, guys,” Diana was suddenly inspired, “let’s take our napkins and tie them like turbans around our heads!”

Dessert was finally served. Diana chose a rice pudding which she could not finish, Bing and Carrie decided on a sort of Mango ice cream, and OLeif ordered a pistachio ice cream, which was molded and then crushed in a glass oblong dish.

“Ah, much better,” Carrie sighed, her gold earrings sparkling.

The meal really had been quite lovely, and Collette surprised herself by actually finishing her curries, mostly, until she became full.

“Guys, I think we should bring in some Indian translation books, you know, and start asking the waiters what everything means and stuff…”

Diana always had a new idea.

“Just tell them – Shalak.” Carrie informed her, taking a sip of her ice water, and winking at Collette across the table.

“Shalak,” Diana repeated, folding her hands in a prayer-like position and bowing to no one in particular. “What does that mean?”

“Thank you.”

Carrie let her believe this for awhile until she cleared up the issue before Diana might actually say it to the waiter.

“Actually, I was just thinking – shalak alak alak from some song or something. And shalak sounded kind of Indian.”

In the end, they mostly agreed that the bread was the best – it really was almost the best bread Collette had ever tasted.

“So, who’s coming to Elvis, Saturday?” Carrie asked the van-load after leaving.

Diana laughed and Bing pretended to throw Carrie’s Elvis CD out the window. But after talking it over, Diana thought it might be fun after all, and even jokingly considered inviting her stubborn Puerto Rican friend.

Back at the English’s, Mr. and Mrs. English watched “The Birds” with them, with Tor and Adam for awhile over root beer floats, Eve being unable to attend as she was already half-asleep upon their arrival.

While waiting for Diana to slip into her pajamas and grab her glasses, Carrie browsed the special features.

“Go to that one,” OLeif pointed out. “There’s real footage of people being eaten by birds.”

“You’re kidding,” Mrs. English couldn’t believe her ears.

Everyone laughed.

“Oh, I wanted to see people being eaten by birds,” Diana moaned. “OK, guys, this is a really creepy movie. Carrie, you’ve got to tell me when the gross parts come.”