I got home a bit early last evening, just after dusk and right as the Ramzan celebrations were starting. Most evenings, work keeps me from sampling the Happy Hour grazings at the Taj Club upstairs, although I often stop in and visit with the butler, Saravana, and have a Kingfisher beer. Or two.
I was still in time, though, to check out the food!
They were serving lots of tasty morsels. Cheese and crackers, special teas, drinks of all sorts; veggie and non-veggie canapés; and last but certainly not least, two steaming dishes of Real Man Food: Cheese Poppers and Chicken Sistouk.
Okay, they don’t sound like macho meal-makings, so let me translate for you: Armadillo Eggs and Meat Onna Stick.
I overloaded a platter fit for serving roast elephant lightly filled a dainty dish, chose a small table by the window (with a view looking out over Hussain Sagar and the city lights) and dug in.
I wasn’t too sure about the poppers at first, so I cut one open to do an autopsy check out how it was made. Not like the ones I enjoy back home; these were breaded chunks of soft cheese with a sliver of green chile included. I thought this was pretty wimpy; why not use the whole chile like we use jalapeños?
Okay, I admit I was tired and distracted. The alarm bells were ringing, but I wasn’t listening. I blissfully dug in, and the alarms were drowned out by the smoke and fire. Yeah, sure; then I remembered. For all the good it did me.
The ever-smiling (and all-seeing) Saravana suddenly got a concerned look on his face and rushed over from where he had been chatting with another guest. I assured him that I didn’t think the smoke alarm would go off if we intervened quickly. He, being the complete professional that he is, understood at a glance and rushed off to collect reinforcements: More Kingfisher.
Actually, by the time he returned I was enjoying a second popper, cautiously. the cheese moderates the heat, if you work around the threat carefully. But the extra Kingfishers were greatly appreciated in any case.
On to the chicken!
The Chicken Sistouk were nicely grilled morsels of marinated chicken on cocktail toothpicks, accompanied by a slice of onion and an even bigger piece of green pepper. Suspiciously large piece of pepper, I thought. Turned out to be capsicum, of course. Or bell pepper, as we have correctly named it. (The British are so prissy with their names.) There was a red sauce served with the appetizers, and that sauce had a bit of a kick; but so little in comparison to the poppers that it actually soothed my palate.
Somehow, all the goodies disappeared from my platter saucer quickly. I even looked around to be sure other guests weren’t mooching my stuff. (There were only two others in the club, and they were sitting far away; but you never know.) The buffet was still open, though, so I grudgingly forced myself to try a bit more. With more fire-preventing Kingfisher, of course. It was satisfying and filling, and I was ready for a bit of cricket on the telly and on to bed.
Oh, and Saravana? Yes, he’s a real butler. His card says so. And he wears a tux and white gloves and has a real butler’s pantry, and everything.
I could get used to this…
Enjoy the (Club Buffet) Heat!
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