Priya and the Quest for Fried Fish

Villain: God
Hero: Fried Fish
Guest Appearances by People who Stare
(the small part of "the Clown" will be played by Priya)

A few weeks ago when Lima and I went out to the Hawaiian Shack for drinks, she pointed out this outdoor restaurant across the street called Mini Punjab, "best fish in the city, open until all hours" she exclaimed. "FRIED FISH!!" That small description has stayed in my head for weeks now.

I knew Mini Punjab was somewhere close to the gym, so I decided that today was the day to go work-out at Bollywood Gold's Gym (5th time this week, wooo) and get well deserved "take-away" from Mini Punjab after the work-out.

So I left the apartment and started walking to the gym. About 20 seconds after I left the safety of my apartment building, the monsoon unleashed its fury and I ran to a tiny bus stop to avoid the torrential downpour. Unfortunately, the wind carried the rain sideways, so I was SOAKED. I finally flagged down a rickshaw, asking "Do you have change for a 100???" Of course, the driver had no idea what I was saying. I motioned him the 2 blocks to the gym and I took out the 100 rupee bill.

"EEEYEEEE-YOOOOOO!" he annoyedly yelled, "change no, no change." So I jumped out of the rickshaw and ran across the street, which was by now a river of mud and sludge, and got change from a nice restaurant (they gave me change because I already know all the people who work at the restaurants across the street from the gym). I jumped back in the river, mud splashing on my sweats and legs. I gave the driver the 10 rupee bill, which flew out of his hand into the river; I ran after it and got it out, put it back in my wallet and gave him a dry bill. He rolled his eyes at me, I sighed, head down, and ran into the gym.

I dried off and worked out, no bollywood star.

So, I get out of the gym, expecting a 2 minute walk to Mini Punjab/fried fish. I walk. and I walk and I walk. Across puddles and mud, getting more and more bedraggled. I ask some people on the way for directions, but they shake their head at my american accent.

At this point I go to the front counter of a restaurant with a sign that proclaimed "Seafood and Grill", tired, ready to give up. NO FRIED FISH ON THEIR MENU. The guy at the counter stares at me. I contemplate, do I go further on this quest, do I actually try to find the elusive, seductive Mini Punjab and its fried fish? I say "YES!" scaring the counter guy and quickly leave the restaurant. I am renewed in my search, ignoring my squishy muddy shoes, wet feet, and dirty legs. I start walking and asking more and more people; fortunately people know this place and keep pointing me in the right direction. (for your information, there are no street signs in Bombay, so directions are "go there, and then about 4 signals, take a right). All streets look the same.

Then it starts drizzling. I quicken my pace. And then it starts POURING, the storm had unleashed its fury yet again. Completely soaked, I run for the closest shelter, which ends up being a 2 foot metal awning off of some store. 2 guys are already under it. I stand there, panting, dripping. I look up at them, they are already staring at me. "So, uh, do you know where Mini Punjab is?" and one of them finally says, after much contemplation, "yes, it is right there" and he points - it is half a block and monsoon away!! So I wait there for 10 minutes until the rain reduces slightly and I run out, both of them staring at me, to the restaurant.

It feels like angels are rejoicing on all sides of the wet, tiny shack of a restaurant. I go up to the handsome turbanned dude, so happy to see him, and he gives me a tiny take-away menu, and he kindly says, "keep keep" and "sit sit". I open the wonderful menu and order: Fried whole pomfret, full order of tandoori chicken, 4 rotis (flat wheat bread), and as a side note, coconut prawns masala.

He yells out the order to the open kitchen behind him and a little guy comes running out with a huge bowl and he shows me the whole pomfret, soaked in spicy red masala sauce, "ok ok??" he asks and I nod my approval, tears of joy glistening in my eyes.

And it comes out 15 minutes later, smelling of all holy spicy fried goodness, and I take a rickshaw home. I immediately got into the shower, sadly leaving the food on the kitchen counter. While I was in the shower I stressed about roommates stealing my food.



The food came in yellow steaming packets, which I ripped apart. Here is the tandoori chicken and fish. Both had this unbelievable smell emanating.



I shakily put everything on the plate: the hero, the sidekick tandoori chicken, the underdog coconut prawn masala.



And the real hero turned out to be: coconut prawn masala. Oh. my. gawd. It was this spicy hot masala sweetened with coconut milk, and simmered whole fresh prawns. I am SO addicted.


satiated, beyond happy, about to pass out from drunken food state, listening to Neurosis No River To Take Me Home