I am by no means a foodie, but I definitely have go-to foods for certain occasions like wings on Super Bowl Sunday even though chicken is gross every other day of the year. Therefore, I, of course, have an assortment of places for my favorite food occasion day: Lazy No Cooking Wear Pajamas Day.
And sometimes I like to team that celebration up with Comfort Food Day because I need a food hug. The day I want birthday cake, naan or greek salad. (What? I’m diverse.) My husband’s comfort foods aren’t the same except for Indian food so when we declared Sunday to be Lazy No Cooking Comfort Food Day, we agreed on Indian take-out.
As most comfort food goes, we don’t branch out from our usual restaurant providers, but, having come back from a short and wild vacation (“wild” being my vacationing with just my kids for 14 hours of the trip while Scott worked in another city), we decide to try a new place. An unknown place. A place without Baingan Bartha, an eggplant mushy soupy goodness that I always order with my naan. (Some people order naan as the side, but those people are fools.)
I choose a new dish (see? wild!), and we count down the minutes until 5 p.m. when the place opens since all Indian restaurants in our area do not open until 5 p.m.. Oh, the owners will answer the phone anytime and take our order, but it’s not going to be ready until 5:30 even if I call at 3:06 in the afternoon. This means I spend the 2 hours and 24 minutes worried they’ll forget to cook it or it’ll be old. When 5 p.m., the hour of old people, us, and comfort food restaurants, arrives, Scott calls in our exciting order and is told the food would be ready at 5:30. (Obviously.)
47 minutes later, I get this text:
(please excuse spelling, grammar and word choice, as my friend, Lisa, told me, blame autocorrect for everything)
Not very comforting at all.