There is an art to eating with one’s hands, but for now we, as lefties, are just focused on remembering to eat with our right hand. We stand out enough as it is, and we would rather not entirely embarrass ourselves or offend anyone with a major culinary faux pas. We are in a narrow bustling canteen, shaped like a train car with windows on one side and lined with diner-style banquets, and it is lunchtime. On the other side of the street tourists are making their way past the gauntlet of hawkers and tour guides to the Galconda Fort, but we are hungry and food is on the agenda before we climb the crumbling ramparts of the citadel. We have spotted this little unassuming restaurant conveniently located directly across the road from the fort’s entrance. Inside, the banquets are crowded with local Hyderabadi families, and two waiters run up and down the galley serving up silver plates with dividers that contain a half section of rice, a quarter section of veggie stew, a quarter section of dal, a bit of achar (spicy pickle), and topped with a chapati. This is thali, South India’s version of a plate lunch. It is simple, filling and tasty. Yet in this casual eatery, there are no menus and no silverware. Sopping up the lentils with a chapati is easy enough, but when the bread is finished, the rice and stew prove harder to negotiate. I glance over at a boy in the banquet across from us. He’s probably about nine or ten, and he is wolfing down his food, using his curled fingers like a scoop and his thumb to help maneuver the soupy grains of rice into his mouth. Funny how something so natural to a child can feel foreign and awkward to us. Hungry, Drew dives right in and seems to do all right, save the last few bits of rice on his plate. This photo, snapped to the amusement (or bemusement?) of the restaurant owner, captures some of the mealtime action.
clarebeardrew 