Well it happened. I never thought the time would arrive; I have pondered what it would feel like. Hopeless, unmotivated, bored…all of these emotions are how I thought it would feel, but the best word that drove me to this was: TIRED. Yes, I was tired and did NOT feel like cooking for Mother’s Day. AH! I said IT. You see, I have been cooking a lot these days, not only for my clients but for different family events as well, the last one being a dinner party of 25 guests for my Mom’s 60th. Sometimes even the best Cheffy needs a little “R and R.”

Since it was my Mom’s day off from cooking, and if we did not want to get stuck eating frozen raviolis for dinner, I decided to make a reservation at an Indian restaurant for Mother’s Day. Seemed like a great idea at the time, I know my Mom loves coconut milk and curry, so I figured this would be a sure win! I, however, forgot to take into consideration the other four members of the family, who have only eaten spaghetti/meatballs/gravy, meatballs/cavatelli/gravy, meatballs/sausage/penne/gravy, chicken parm/pasta/gravy or meatballs/ravioli/gravy for every Sunday’s dinner since each of their births. I am not being stereotypical here, but factual: I come from a 100% Italian family and if we are not eating home-cooked Italian food by 4pm (sharp!) on Sunday then A.) We were at an event and stuffed our faces already or B.) Someone forgot to grab cavatelli (for my Dad, he always has to have some every Sunday) and dinner is now on hold until everything is back in order again lol.

For starters, the reservation was at 5pm, an hour past usual feed-time, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, our table was right next to the restrooms. My older sister Jen was smart and “was not able” to make dinner  – a.k.a she chose her sanity over a culinary experience LOL. It took everyone over an hour to decide what they wanted to order, you would think they were reading “hieroglyphics” and I was the translator. My father could not get past the fact that there was no breadbasket presented to us by our server at the start of the meal.

After our scrumptious appetizers of Crispy Spinach Chaat (Fried Spinach Salad…OMG to die for!) and date chutney had arrived, my father discovered Naan Flatbread, so he then ordered 5 more orders….not realizing that each one was a la carte at $5 per flat bread.”Keep them coming Mary (our server)!” was the red light for me, when I realized I needed to point that out to him.

After we moved onward from the whole breadbasket/Naan issue, at this point in our dining experience everything was going smoothly, sunshine and butterflies. Everyone was hungry and ready for their meals. I explained (warned) everyone that their plate would essentially be a pile of “mush” and rice….I kept it in laymen’s terms so as not to put anyone in more of a culture shock than they were about to experience. The guest of honor, my Mom, only choked three times during her meal from the occasional hot chili pepper that caught her throat, otherwise her Curried Chilean Sea Bass was a hit!

It was all downhill besides my Mom though. Christina, who normally eats all of us under the table and then some, became suddenly “full” after about four bites. She followed that statement by wondering what was for dessert back at home and planning her breakfast and lunch for the next day.

Jim, my brother, ordered shrimp. The poor guy’s face was SO beet red from the heat in the sauce that he made sure to tell me, between guzzling water, that “Annie we are just not that type of family! You KNOW this! Stop trying to force your hoity-toity culinary stuff on us, WHERE IS THE PASTA!!! WHERE IS THE PARMESAN CHEESE?! You always do this to us…” Mind you, this is the first time I have ever done this catastrophic thing of making dinner reservations on a Sunday, at a non-Italian restaurant, to my family.

At this point in our meal, Christina had counted the same man in and out of the restroom five times in the past 45 minutes, and there was now a line of “eager” folks, engulfing our table, outside the ONE stall restroom. I am sure they were all having a field day watch this boisterous, loud Italian bunch get through their meals in this nice, quaint restaurant. My Dad scarfed his meal down, I was excited, I assumed he enjoyed it…he assured me he did not. And I quote “I just had to eat. The chicken was good. Did nothing for me though, food is food…do we have pie at home?” He had the goat special. I thoroughly enjoyed my meal of spicy Biryani (aromatic spiced rice bowl), kind of like a rice casserole but oh SO much better than anything you can think up. Layers of saffron basmati rice, a pounded spice sauce, onions, mint, ginger, Kashmiri red chili and roasted cashews.

At this point, I gave up and decided I might as well make the most out of this event, so I pulled out my camera and snapped some photos just so you all know I am not making this up! The faces speak for themselves. Let me not be mistaken though, there was ONE item that everyone LOVED: the Garhwali Naan, the flat bread that was stuffed with mozzarella, sauce and spinach – the Indian version of Stromboli!

Mom and I in a “curry haze”