Curry Fury

It is a sign of a metropolis's progress when someone opens a restaurant called Curry in a Hurry. Sadly, Salisbury's recent specimen is a deeply disappointing place, and the only thing sure to "hurry" is its demise.

The ad on NPR heralded a lunch buffet from 11-3. The Monster, it must be made clear, is an absolute fiend for buffets. The Monster made arrangements in his busy, busy schedule to visit Curry in a Hurry on its third day of business.

Through halting communication with the proprietor, I learned that yes, the restaurant was open; yes, it was lunchtime; yes, the restaurant, being open at lunchtime, was serving lunch; and that no, there was no buffet any longer. This bold two-day experiment apparently failed to bring in the masses, and was subsequently shut down on orders of the proprietor's husband.

This is the point at which I should have walked out.

Instead, like a meek monster, I sat amid the smell of leaking propane from the disused buffet table and ordered the chicken makhani, a samosa and naan. The curry was quite good but not stellar; the samosa was not the glory my first samosa in seven years should have been; and the naan wasn't free. It's free at Shalimar.

And thus the meal and my mood were clouded by curry fury: the deep-set grumpiness that settles in when one settles for second-best. I knew curry fury could last for hours, casting a shadow over the entire day, unless drastic action were taken.

I went to Shalimar.