You got that right.
Instead, it’s books, rain, and writing.
I just finished a good but uneven book on India by Siddhartha Deb. The book had enough padding to keep you warm outdoors on a wintry day.
At least the writing is going well: 65 pages in three weeks (plus 75 at home). The chef is getting the cooks into shape.
Speaking of chefs and cooks: Last night I had a tandoori chicken that was the best I’ve ever had; moist, clearly slapped against the clay, delicious. So why can’t the cook get it together for breakfast? Blended juice? A dosa strike? And lunch? $5 grilled cheese sandwiches? I struck back: I refused to eat lunch. Bought 10 rupees worth of pappadom at a roadside shop. Now we’re talking.
Tonight I’m told it’s “stir fry chicken, Kerala style.” If the kitchen was any lazier, it would shut down.
It’s a shame, really, given the splendid, plentiful tropical fruits and vegetables. But then: They’d have to cook.