So I realize that this is supposed to be a funny blog as well as an informative one, so I will offer some words of advice: don't bring eggplant masala to a dinner party unsolicited.
I know. Who doesn't love eggplant curry? Is it not inconceivably startling if I present to you the fact that there may be some people in this life who do not appreciate eggplant curry, and who may in fact be made mildy anxious at the very thought of it? If this does not surprise the hell out of you, then the last few sentences are a picture into what it's like to be me. This weekend I learned that not everybody wants eggplant curry brought to their parties, and I don't know what's worse: that I didn't know this to begin with, or that I was shocked and slightly offended upon learning it.
When I sent out my e-mail reply to the potluck invitation, I felt, I'll admit it, a little smug. Lesser mortals might bring a salad of totally non-ethnic origins. The curry, however, would cause all guests at the party to break iinto spontaneous applause, followed by a toast to the eggplant curry delivered with such heartfelt emotion that the gentlemen attending would unashamedly wipe a tear from their eyes. (I worked really hard on that curry.) Picture then the aformentioned shock and offense when my curry was rebuffed! "Who says, 'please do not bring curry to my party' ?!" I mentally replied. I may have said it out loud. Let's leave the details shrouded in mystery.
In a nutshell, I will be eating leftover curry for a long while, but my hostess was unspeakably grateful that I did not bring the eggplant curry anyway out of spite. So, the lessons you should have learned from me are: not everybody will eat anything, everything, both together, one fried on top of the other, and: that people who will eat things on a dare (me) and people that need a list of ingredients at all times can live together in harmony, and even attend parties hosted by each other. Amen.
I know. Who doesn't love eggplant curry? Is it not inconceivably startling if I present to you the fact that there may be some people in this life who do not appreciate eggplant curry, and who may in fact be made mildy anxious at the very thought of it? If this does not surprise the hell out of you, then the last few sentences are a picture into what it's like to be me. This weekend I learned that not everybody wants eggplant curry brought to their parties, and I don't know what's worse: that I didn't know this to begin with, or that I was shocked and slightly offended upon learning it.
When I sent out my e-mail reply to the potluck invitation, I felt, I'll admit it, a little smug. Lesser mortals might bring a salad of totally non-ethnic origins. The curry, however, would cause all guests at the party to break iinto spontaneous applause, followed by a toast to the eggplant curry delivered with such heartfelt emotion that the gentlemen attending would unashamedly wipe a tear from their eyes. (I worked really hard on that curry.) Picture then the aformentioned shock and offense when my curry was rebuffed! "Who says, 'please do not bring curry to my party' ?!" I mentally replied. I may have said it out loud. Let's leave the details shrouded in mystery.
In a nutshell, I will be eating leftover curry for a long while, but my hostess was unspeakably grateful that I did not bring the eggplant curry anyway out of spite. So, the lessons you should have learned from me are: not everybody will eat anything, everything, both together, one fried on top of the other, and: that people who will eat things on a dare (me) and people that need a list of ingredients at all times can live together in harmony, and even attend parties hosted by each other. Amen.
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