Many might wonder what the title means. I will attempt to explain. It helps if you understand some Indian lingo and also if you are born Indian. It makes understanding this narrative much much easier than say if you were born in San Luis Obispo (SLO) and had never ventured out. The latter might slow your understanding.
But let us pretend we are on the happy path and that I as the writer will make some adjustments to ensure I share more than is required to let the SLO population follow along.
We visited an Udipi food joint in Sunnyvale. Udipi is a region of South India known for its rice based food products. These products are consumed from morning to night as a snack or a meal. What adds to the flavor is the accompaniments much like the orchestra to a lead singer or for the ball crazy single tracks, the other Warriors to Stef's three pointers.
These food accompaniments are a lentil and spice based curry (with a soup like consistency) called Sambar as well as a whole host of coconut and chilli and lentil based chutneys. Chutneys, an original Indian condiment was adopted by the Brits during their occupation as a savory delight on the plate and the name got into the Oxford dictionary. So if you still are unsure look it up.
So it was with an appetite we visited a suburb of San Francisco called Sunnyvale. It does have plenty of sun and being in Silicon Valley I suppose the name makes sense. What is astounding is the amount of Indian diaspora spread in it. And their craving for this delicacy from home. The restaurant we visited (and I may have blogged about it in years past) is 'Madras Cafe'.
It exudes chaos and fragrance of the food one is about to eat. Chaos is visible in the form of the largely desi population trying to find parking. The spots were painted by someone not well versed in geometry or an eye for symmetry or any engineering whatsoever. Some spots are so skinny you might have to figure out a way to exit your car from your sunroof. But we figure it out. We were hungry. Then it is the poignant point in time to get yourself on the list. Schindler might have had an easy time with his but to get on the wait list you have to first figure out which line is actually moving toward that objective. It is simply a mass of desis chaotically organized in clumps of 2 to 22. All chattering at full speed or scratching at some body part looking lazily at the goings on.
Once you do determine by some loud shouting of your own to find if the person ahead of you has similar intent you get as close as you can to him /her and pretend you are counting the moles on their neck. If you do not another desi might squeeze in the seemingly inviting space you left open.
The line creeps forward when suddenly the threesome in front of us start an episode of 'guess what we want to do here' with the lady taking down the name. But it is not all that simple. Let me explain. Since this place has uniquely amazing food to serve it also boasts an amazing routine when it comes to getting an actual table to conduct your business. You have to figure out what you want and order ahead when you put your name down for the wait. Most desi restaurants that serve this type of food would not do this. So customers get mighty confused if this is their maiden visit.
But some years of confusion and perhaps customer feedback led to a different UX. A sign now adorns the entrance. See picture above.
So it is like a McDonald's where imagine you have an inexorable wait to get to the objective. Of course the food is vegetarian and albeit I am biased, its in a league far removed from McD. The names begin with an M is all. Madras vs. McD.
We know since we visit fairly frequent but the threesome in front has other ideas. They look at the menu card in their hand and pretend one of them is paying for all three when really none of them wants to. Eventually they settle on few things and get out of my way. Once established in front of the order and wait list lady who has a look that the Gestapo might have had I get my order in and pay up. I get nothing in return - the receipt also is a question - you want receipt? Yes - WTF - how would I have proof of anything otherwise?
Well if you are trusting soul you need not worry - they have your name and it gets called pretty close to the estimated wait time announced when you paid. The problem is name calling. I think. With most attendees (and the male is the one usually anointing himself as the orderer in chief) inheriting their identity based on their mother's decision a few decades ago to name them the list has a lot of Krishnas and Ganeshes so a unique id can be tricky. Now which mother does not think her offspring has the qualities of the lord that runs the planet?
Something similar could happen with Michael at Starbucks but I guess we humans figure it out. Anyway 20 minutes have elapsed amidst constant jostling and taking in the Old Spice fragrance from the two guys who ordered after me and the old dude with a managerial flair (he has been around and seen it all) comes calling for me. We get to our table. Barely have we sat and our fritters are out. Medu Vada. Medu in Karnataka means soft and these soft inside, crispy outside donut like savory bites is our starter. They are gone in no time.
That is quickly followed by a Dosa (Indian crepe) and Onion Uttapam. This is my all time favorite - thickish pancake of lentil and rice with chopped red onions liberally injected in it as it fries on a skillet. When done right and served with aforementioned sides it is grand experience.
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