The Biryani…
OMG. This was a Biryani to remember.
Such softness that you hardly noticed chewing and yet the occasional bursts of spice, which sent a sensation through your tongue, to the brain, definitely taking a detour through that fist-sized all-important organ located a little left and above your stomach.
The sporadic crunchy fried onion was as perfect as the soft, yet distinct drum beat in a 70s rock song, like a different sounding instrument and yet adding to the overall rhythm.
zooming is highly encouraged. go ahead. zoom in.
The indication that it's going to be an experience was amply forewarned by the aroma, but we had no idea that it would blow our minds so much that we actually didn't think of conversing with each other during the first serving. It was supposed to be quantity enough for the next meal but me and wife just made and agreement through eyes that we cannot stop this thing we started. No. Not now. Not after knowing and understanding the bloody, infinite potential of this exotic union of rice, spices, eggs, onions and definitely some ingredient which was added by divinity and is not supposed to be known to homo sapiens.
The second serving was enjoyed in a state of bliss, just the way you enjoy the second snowfall or the second rains. You have thoroughly enjoyed the first time, but still in a hurried passionate way. The second time, you are all aware of the pleasure and literally enjoy it like sipping on a quality single malt, on a leather armchair, by a fireside.. listening to blues.
This second serving slides through in a haze and we are made aware of the reality by our ten month old toddler. She too understood that somethings weird on the lunch table today. Wife had some left in her plate and as the baby started getting a bit cranky, my dear wife, very politely asked me to to take the baby outside so that she can enjoy the last few bites in solitude and peace. She didn't have to ask twice. No. Not to me. Not to an eternally grateful husband who had just filled his stomach and soul with Biryani, that was so wholesome that I could have done anything to give my woman, those tender moments with the last remaining magic in her plate.
I scooped up my 10 month old daughter and went out to let my woman enjoy her Biryani. It was a sight to remember, as I saw her finish what remained in her plate with uttermost focus. I had been at the exact same spot a few minutes ago so I understood. I felt absolutely nothing strange as she put her bare hands into the cooker to scoop whatever remained of that Biryani.
As the 'real' finger-lickin food was being licked off, a sudden realization hit me. That it's over. As if she though the same, wife looks up. As she chewed on those last rice grains, again no words were spoken but a promise was made through the eyes, that this will happen. Again. and Again. and Again.
Amen.!