Friends, Today I will tell you about all the dangers of Indian food, read my true story and not judge strictly, when you know everything.
Whenever in India is difficult to stop and take something away with Indians. It started in my first visit to Delhi. I read, that everywhere in India and unsanitary conditions can not even think, to try something local.
I stayed for almost half of the day, trying hard to pass by inviting smells spicy snack bars. But when my train to Goa remained an hour, I broke down and curiosity won. I ran into the station cafe, where there were many people. People were looking at me strangely, smiling. They knew, that if I came here, already embarked on the beaten track.
I got to the menus and took…
Maharaj gave. This is not the seller's name, a dish, of cakes and sauces. The cake I grabbed with both hands, forgetting about etiquette and every sickness, which swarmed with Russian- and English forums. two military, dressed in civilian, leniently forgive me my manners. I jumped on the train and rushed to the south…
Further more, I tried to be interrupted peanuts from the bag, which was acquired in a supermarket, but here the carriages began to wear it, before which is very hard to resist…
I still held, but vile neighbors friendliness and smiles made me forget about all the promises, the data itself… I tried and samosa, drinking masala tea, which carried the boys, brushwood snapped his fingers from the newspaper, sprinkle with lemon juice and sprinkled with spices.
I forgot about all the precautions… After the train I took a break, but I broke down again at the bus station in Panaji and bit into the freshest veggie burger.
I had a house, motorcycle and incredible thirst. When I happened to be on the beach Morjim, then the smiling uncle called to him and asked,: That you have a very hard? – He replied, that he can do all acute, что угодно. – Tomato soup, – I said. – Good, Mr.. And he brought me a bowl, unremarkable in appearance, but tayaschuyu a explosive strength.
Tears rolled down his face – This is a fabulous and deadly!
Then I did not think, where I took, I could sit for hours and look at the road peacefully relaxed or talk to people, necessarily drinking. It was bliss – Banana milksheyk in Chapora Juice center, and then pineapple, cold glass turbid liquid and droplets fall through sweet beverage into and absorbed by the digestive tract, and then another…
It was a point, where we are going to the same Goans, I. They drank from the neck of ice, It is known as the chopped, and we were happy. On a hot day you can drink lassi, and the whole day is free.
Two weeks passed like one day, and the constant use of Indian food has passed for me without obvious consequences. only sometimes, accidentally bumping into an Indian restaurant in St. Petersburg, I suddenly forgot everything and spared no money. Compliment from the boss, in the form of crisp naana, seemed to me the most expensive gift, and mango lassi stirred the whole range of feelings and memories.
I did not mean anything to his girlfriend, but when we arrived in Delhi, the first also held on Snack, brought to a. And in Mumbai has already begun: We began to walk around the restaurant together and take all these astonishing things – cheese masala dosa, Stand bhazhi, Zira lynx…
Masala tea at every corner, pancakes with jam, chocolate cakes…
Time, full enjoyment, despite the dangers. Вечером around Palolem we were looking for the most delicious cheese and garlic tortillas (garlik naan) and curry rice with mushrooms.
We tried and Punjabi, and Goan cuisine, and now I can say, that nothing sorry, although I miss Indian food. If I had to pass this way to explore the world of colors in taste again, I have nothing to change a, and I would do it again.
We now live at a distance from all the temptations, but pungent aroma of Indian spices for a masala tea, and now sometimes it causes breaking and longing for all our crazy past in the Indian cuisine.
In preparing the materials for this article, none of the authors has not suffered from poisoning.