worth the discrimination

let me first qualify this post by confessing that i am a maggi goreng addict. i've been smitten since my first taste at a beach shack in tioman. stayed at a charming resort with great character (read: budget) but somehow managed to make space for a midnight snack of the good stuff just beyond the resort's boundary after dinner every night. let me also admit to being the biggest chicken-heart ever but buoyed by the prospect of maggi goreng, i'd willingly brave all manner of night evil as i faithfully made my way in the pitch dark, along a dirt path more pothole than dirt, to the ramshackle hut each night. and since leaving tioman (oh this was years ago!) i have never passed up an opportunity to sample what i consider better than pasta fresca fatta in casa even.

went to mustafa in search of sarongs and found out that the single item they don't stock is a tongue-scraper (don't ask) oh, and neither do they have lady gaga's blonde bow wig. but other than that, the dizzying array of everything and anything under the sun never fails to get me. plus there's something adventurous about going to mustafa past midnight, when all the other shops have long pulled down their shutters. gotta love the hyper-efficiency that is a 24h store.

tonight, i also learnt of my tolerance for bad manners and poor service. tried CMK instead of sakunthala's because the latter is disgustingly overpriced ($25 for 2 pratas, butter chicken and mango lassi???! are you kidding me???) and placing an order at CMK was an exercise in supreme patience. took half an hour (no exaggeration) after constant signaling, going to the counter, physically obstructing the walk way, asking loud enough to be heard yet being blatantly ignored by all but the chinese table cleaner (the only other yellow skinned in the establishment apart from us three), who even then seemed reluctant to talk to us. was tempted to throw in the towel and cross the road to sakunthala's but the sight and smells of what the kitchen was offering kept us going that five, ten, fifteen minutes more. finally, with great reluctance, the boss man took our orders and after another long wait our maggi goreng and prata waltzed out of the kitchen.

and ohmyword, it was the mother of all maggi gorengs, the holy grail of the maggi kind.

one bite and it was worth the discrimination, possible delhi belly and a small price to pay for enjoying the subconscious comfort that comes with being the majority in the country - unless you're at a roadside stall in little india past midnight.