Ever since she was a tiny tot, the Teen loved spice. Now we are not talking about the tangy ting of a chicken wing or the gentle sensation of a frozen curry, we are talking a level of spice that would make even the most accomplished of eaters see their toes curl from the heat.
Her first outing to an Indian restaurant and she climbs up onto the big person’s chair. I order a main dish of highly spiced chicken and on enquiring what my daughter would like, I exclaim “No, that’s for her. I’m wimping out with the Butter Chicken.” The waiter scratches his head and off he goes.
Minutes later, he returns with the Chef. I am immediately on edge, worried that there may be some culinary problem or even a previously unknown issue of child abuse for letting the small person bathe herself so liberally in spice. Hesitantly I ask if there is a problem. The Chef answers: “No, I simply wanted to see the child who had ordered that level of spice.” She smiles sweetly and devours her meal when served. It is little surprise that she declared to the restaurant staff, that when she grew up she wanted to be an Indian – she sure has the palate for it!