Yesterday, a friend of mine sent me pictures of what she had made for dinner - a lovely chilli paneer with a dark brown gravy full of umami, diaphanous onions with their veins stark against the dark, with pieces of green bell pepper floating about in that undoubtedly fragrant and wonderful gravy. I could smell and taste the bell peppers and the paneer in my mind as I saw the photos. Such impactful was the sensory experience that it unlocked a core childhood memory that I had long forgotten.
I have always had a moderate phobia of needles - I’d never faint, but the idea of something long and thin deliberately puncturing into my body and depositing God knows what (mind out of the gutter, people!) really gave me the heebie-jeebies. But I was such a well-behaved kid and so used to putting the needs of other people above mine that I would go through hell and never complain. In any case, I couldn’t help but wear my emotions on my sleeves (still a serious character flaw), so my parents must have noticed the dread and apprehension on my face every time the topic of vaccination came up. On one fateful day, my dad suggested that next time we went to get a vaccine we should stop by an Indo-Chinese restaurant near the doctor’s office called Mini-Box. So that I wouldn’t just dread the vaccine, I’d have something to look forward to after. And so it went. We went there after, and ordered chilli chicken and chowmein. And it was just so good. The food would arrive immediately after ordering, almost too fast to be true. And it would be piping hot - I would burn my tongue multiple times before my mom would teach me to blow on a spoonful of food to cool it down. And it was glorious - the chunks of chilli chicken hot, but perfectly spiced - their uneven surface just soaked up in that glorious, rich, brown broth. Accompanying them in the gravy would be chillies cut on a bias, all their spiciness lost to the broth, and hence a mild, but veritable crunchy surprise. And the chow had just the perfect texture, and perfect chewiness, maybe with bits of carrots, peas and scrambled eggs. The chicken and the chow went fabulously together. And pulling the whole thing together was that glorious smell of Indo-Chinese food, a smell I still crave.
And thus, history was made - I wasn’t a very demanding kid, but my parents would point out that I had really made it known that I needed to get some Mini-Box after every vaccine shot. It became a family ritual - get the kid vaccinated and then get some really good Chinese food afterwards. In fact, I think I started to look forward to getting the shots, because the experience came with good food afterwards.
And during my time in the US, I have forever been chasing that taste. Every time I go to a new place, if I see a Chinese restaurant, not even Indo-Chinese, I have this brief glimmer of hope that I’ll experience it again.