Those of you who've been keeping up with my blog already know that I have refrained from eating meat for the month of March, with just one exception: my birthday. On Sunday March 13, I turned the wise, but still youthful age of 29 and celebrated this feat by partaking in the act of eating dead animals, or what most would refer to as meat.
Contrary to the title (I couldn't resist the play on words), and the above photo, I didn't actually have steak (though I cooked it on Saturday for Gurpreet-hence the pic). Instead I ventured to a place I have been many times before and can never seem to get enough of. With my loving partner by my side we made our way through the dreary wet weather and pulled up outside a dressed up trailer proudly displaying a neon red O-P-E-N sign and another in orange writing that reads: The Nizams
Hand in hand we strolled inside, where the scents of saffron and cardamom seeds hastily greeted our hungry senses; as usual, the wild incense escaped their origins: a plate of basmati rice and lamb vindaloo set on a table not far from where we stood in the doorway. The soft, shimmering flames of candles danced on stages of dizzying color before the sequined backdrop that hung on each of the walls: tapestries of women wearing saris, some celebrating, others partaking in ritual, each lighting up the night with their resplendent, woven gowns.
Even before opening the menu we had already forgotten that we were actually inside a trailer on a highway in South Jersey. With our senses occupied in this alternate reality we gaily greeted our server and ordered our usual: Chicken Makhani (butter chicken in tomato sauce) extra spicy and the lamb korma. Then we popped open a bottle of bubbly and began our ritual of easy conversation and laughter, allowing the stresses of the outside reality to burn away. This moment, replete with all the sensory and emotional delights, was now our reality. Then the food came...
"I may have spent my last birthday climbing waterfalls and riding horses in Jamaica, but nothing beats this! Besides," I whispered to Gurpreet as I piled mounds of fluffy white rice onto my plate,
"the resort food kinda sucked" We laughed as we traded serving spoons and proceeded to paint our dishes with red and gold gravy. Then we picked up our forks and both grew quiet. Well, here it is: the crux of our pleasure, the moment we eagerly and joyously awaited, now upon us both...
Like being born all over again, I tasted and tore into the life that would nourish mine. I swallowed and as I did, I felt a very strong sense of gratitude for the blessing I was enjoying on every level, each layer of my being. This was life and I was eating it, tasting the energy tingle on my tongue, and the aroma of heat burn through my pores.
"Well I lived another year," I said, posing as Gurpreet snapped a photo of my momentous encounter, "which is certainly worth celebrating!"
"Yeah?" Gurpreet asked, as if there was a point I wasn't making.
"This is it, that's all," I said,
this is what it feels like to live.
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