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A bit
after noon today, walking into the sun, nip in the air, smiling fondly at  Asian food courts & promises of Noodle
Night Markets, ignoring Gloria Jean’s & Starbucks … in the city of cafes
after all … sitting at one, sipping a cappuccino on the streets, getting lost
in Amitav Ghosh’s ‘The Shadow Lines’, ‘people watching’, picking up a sushi box for lunch to
balance out last night’s pork orgy…
I am
not a fussy traveller.
In my
world wandering down its streets is the best way to fall in love with a place.
A nip in the air helps.
The
script was perfect last evening.
Getting
in at the Town Hall Station at Sydney. Getting off at Central. Trying to figure
out which exit to take. The first one was wrong of course. The flipside of not
following a woman’s intuition.
Landing
up on a quiet kerb. Asking for directions at a seven eleven with an Indian at
the counter, a pub where the staff was too busy for us to disturb, a Thai lady
in another pub who got all excited at our choice of place to eat…another
amble….stopping mid-way to check our bearings…a young man sitting on the
pavement… butting in hearing our parlays and pointing us to the right path.
A bit
more of a walk. A big sign. Jaipur Masala. And then a whiff of a familiar
aroma. A second glance back.
We had
just passed the object of our quest.
Sydney’s
landmark Thai restaurant.
Spice I
Am.
The one
spot I couldn’t fit in in my last trip. Heavily recommended by all. The first
place that featured in recommendations this time too.
And
there it was. A #facepalm moment. This was was almost next door to where we
were.
After
the chase across train stations and zebra crossings, pubs and stores, we were
back to where we started.
All one
had to do was follow the flavours.
Or
one’s Karma.
‘Cut the pop  philosophy and tell us how the food was’?
To start with everyone including the enthusiastic Thai lady at the pub told us
that we’d be lucky if we got a table. Well at close to 9 pm we got a table
after a much shorter wait than one would at Colaba’s Churchill in its glory days.
The
place was packed and reminded my of the bump and grind seating of Malvani
Asvad. Seemed like it would be my sort of place.


I was
right.
A Thai
coconut water to start off the evening. Sweet shades of the Bangkok original.

The joy
of ordering the right  dishes. Without
any debate at the table.
Pork
belly stir fried with holy basil and chilli. The meat a nice balance of
scrunchy skin and chubby tummy fat. Reminiscent of the pork belly I had had at
a tiny Chinese place in my last night at Chiang Mai. Shades of the texture of
siew yoke of the Chinese ‘restoraans’ of KL. Very different from the incredibly
soft, bordering on squishy, pork belly at Ling’s at Colaba.


We had
ordered this as a starter but they got our steamed rice with the belly. Well, if
you ask me, the sticky rice was just what was needed to make this combination
of great meat, lively herbs and fiery chillies celestial.
The
green curry was everything that green curries serve in most Thai places at
Mumbai isn’t.
Thank
God for that.
The
curry wasn’t a fluorescent green swamp. The consistency was that of thin fresh
coconut milk. The flavours that of freshly ground spices. The way grandmoms
used to cook in India.
The
turmeric a bit over-powering but the balance was just right otherwise. There
was a mild sweetness to the sauce with a deep seated heat of ground green
chillies which left a warm glow inside later.
The
pork sliced the way it would be at Thailand. The pork blood jelly a bit like
liver. I finally knew what they had put in into the curry mee at Penang.


And no.
No broccoli, carrots or beans. When will restauteurs at Mumbai learn that Thai
curries should only have basil, chilli and green brinjals in them? It is not a
Keralite ishtew for God’s sake. The Bombay version of it of course before I get
all Malayalis agitated.
The
food was the sort that you thought was too much to finish only to find your
table bare a bit later.
My
camera battery was exhausted but you can do with the BB pictures till then.
BB
doesn’t work with local calling cards here. Not tweeting or fb’ing on BB all
the time while in company made one realise how uncivil one had become.
I guess
we live and learn.
They don’t accept credit cards at Spice I
am.

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