…for a brief aside. I grew up hating Indian food. My mother was a great cook, but once every six months or so she would make a curried chicken dish that left everything to be desired. I could imagine Indians looking at one of her pasty, toxic-yellow concoctions and saying, “What is that?”
The good news is that all changed several years back when, feeling daring, I agreed I’d try an Indian dish my wife wanted to make for dinner. “This isn’t curried chicken,” I said after my first bite. I soon discovered that was the sentence I should have been using years ago.
Not long after that, my wife and I had a sumptuous rehearsal dinner at an Indian restaurant in New York City for my nephew’s impending marriage (the bride’s family was Indian), and Indian food went up a few sizable notches in my estimation.
Which brings me to a recent discovery. Several weeks ago, my wife brought home two jars of spicy chutney, one tomato and the other mint, from a local farmer’s market. These heavenly creations permanently erased any remnants of childhood-borne bias I had against Indian food.
I have no connection to the woman who makes these chutneys, but if it’s of any interest, you can check out her wares at the Bombay Emerald Chutney co., and even order them online: [CLICK HERE]