The Reason I'll Never Readjust to American Food

I have to admit, revealing something of my hedonistic nature, that I am half tempted to remain in India indefinitely simply for the food. To be fair, nothing I have had is nearly as good as Aunty's home-cooking in Chandigarh (nor should it be) but there are some close seconds. On average, I spend two to three dollars on food per day (plus another fifty cents for water); on a four-dollar day I've really gone all-out.

It feels as though (not to be trite) I'm having my cake and eating it too. Last time time I weighed myself (about six weeks ago) I had lost twenty pounds (and since then have tightened my belt another three inches), even though every meal feels like indulgence. I feel like there should be some allegory (something along the lines of long spoons in heaven and hell?) to describe such a peculiar situation. I think it has something to do with the fact that every meal is satisfying, made with real ingredients like vegetables, potatoes, and other recognizable foods. Imagine eating food that came from the Earth rather than the cold steel of a factory. Back home I usually filled up on things that no longer resembled foods, every week or so craving what I call "people food," homemade foods; so poor is my opinion of what I normally eat that I don't even dub it worthy of humans.

On top of this, I've become more or less veg (is this a uniquely Indian term, I wonder?) here. I think I've eaten meat twice in India, and don't miss it in the slightest. Unlike in the West, eating veg isn't a chore that leaves you disappointed with some odd, limp, or bland dish. Here, it just seems natural. Plus, all the best dishes are veg, and it saves me from the nausea that comes with seeing a scruffy version of my last meal picking through the trash, street-side.

Food aside, restaurants in India (especially in Mcleod) are, simply, fascinating. You never know who will be sitting at the next table; I've wasted hours watching monks playfully joke with each other, Europeans debate philosophy, or simply enjoying being surrounded by Indian and Tibetan culture. Where else but in Mcleodganj can you hear the line, spoken over a bowl of a saucy paneer dish: "Well, I don't understand emptiness. Can you explain emptiness to me?" Where else will you be approached by your waiter, a Tibetan monk, asking for an impromptu English lesson ("Sunday, Monday, Tuesday..." I write carefully into his notebook). 

So I've devoted some cranes, let's call them cranes 81 to 71, on platters of some of my favorite dishes here.  Admittedly, the photos are not nearly as pleasurable as the dishes (but use your imagination).
 

Tibetan Herbal Tea and Tibetan thanthuk, a delicious soup (made better with red chili, as all Tibetan food is!) from Shangri-La Restaurant, my favorite place in Mcleod because it is run entirely by Tibetan monks and serves food with a homemade, earthy quality (plus a meal here costs about $1.25).

Mango juice. If there is a heavenly nectar (amrita) then I'm positive it takes like mango juice. Something about the warm, dusty Indian air (especially south of here) makes it even better.

Tomato Paneer from McLLos, the restaurant in central square of the main bazaar where you can enjoy (amazing) food, cricket, and Kingfisher to the dangling rows of dim lights.

Chai: India's Greatest Success

Tibetan chowmein

 Paneer Butter Masala- delicious but too saucy to eat without rice.  Warning: Indian restaurants, unlike homemade food, tend to lean towards the extra-soupy. The trick is to get to know which dishes require more substance (and decide when you're in the mood for extra-soupy). 

A Western Indian Dish from Taste of India, a restaurant lauded by Lonely Planet for it's authenticity, is also one of the only dishes I've had here where the Indian name for the dish isn't given. Go figure. However, anything made with coconut milk has my vote.

Momos aren't momos without red chilies

Veg Jaipuri- saucy and spicy from Ashoka Restaurant

"Garlic Potato" from Gakyi Tibetan (Healthfood) Restaurant. This may be the best restaurant in town; the food is incredibly fresh and healthy (with minimal oils and butter). The small dining room only has twenty seats, and due to it's popularity you're usually sharing a table with three strangers.