December 4, 2002
The rich, golden smell of curry has filled my house to every corner. No papadums tonight; didn't have time. Aah, who cares? As long as the sauce is spicy and the rice is tender I'm happy. And so is The Boss Lady, that bon vivant of curries, so nothing else matters. Although it can't be too spicy or the Grizzler won't eat it. "It's too hot, Dad," in tones more whiney than a barrel full of port. But I may have struck upon the happy medium; I have been given approval by the Grizzler. Even the afterburn was acceptable. Bonus.