Let me set the scene for you: It's a dismal Thursday morning at the office and I'm already fantasizing about Friday, even though it's a good ways away. My coworker ducks into an adjacent office with a small slip of paper in hand and then pops his head out, serves me a healthy dose of side-eye and asks if I have lunch already. I do, but my curiosity is piqued and I ask what he and the attorney it appears he's now holding hostage have got in mind for the afternoon. Motioning me inside the office with a level of mystery reminiscent of the Prohibition, my darling colleague tells me they're ordering Indian and if I know what's good for me I better get in on this action, because this place is spectacular. (The recommendation is extra alluring, given that the person making the suggestion is from India.) Still, I don't understand what all the hush-hush-osity is about. Folks order lunch all the time! It's a part of any healthy office culture! I pored over the menu, perusing the vegetarian options and considering what type of naan I would bury my face in before making my final selection: dal masala with a side of garlic naan and an order of rice to split with the cohorts. (I was advised by seasoned Shalimar visitors that the portions are plentiful and robust enough for sharing--even amongst the greedy gobblers at my workplace. They were right, surprisingly.)
When the food arrived, the whole building was ablaze with the divine spices of traditional Indian fare. I finally understood why my coworker had been so secretive: he didn't want our boss to know he was taking an hour-long (okay, hour-long plus...) round trip to Dublin from our office in Walnut Creek just for some good grubbin'. But it was so beyond worth it! Every bite burst with fanciful flavor and authentic home cookin' love. I could taste the dedication and was beyond appreciative. We all got so into our meals that we formed this obnoxious semi-circle in the middle of the office, hovering over our plastic containers and styrofoam trays with absolute disregard for the fact that we do have jobs, tasks and obligatory duties to perform. When our boss (y'know, that dude who pays our salaries and can revoke said salaries just as easily) tromped in through the back door, we all froze like oversized deers in headlights, totally caught. I literally turned around in place, looking for the best exit strategy, fork still in hand, naan still being shoveled into mouth. (Did I mention that the garlic pieces are so perfectly shaved and cooked inside... Not so big that they overwhelm you, not so tiny that they end up all over your mouth and distort your tastebuds for years to come?) I could tell my boss was envious of our meal and the smell permeated the office for the rest of the day, but I kept patting my pockets looking for the damns that I just did not give and could not locate any. Oh well.
Oh, and that entire meal cost me less than $10 and they had the decency not to clump all of our food together in such a way that would cross-contaminate and make my vegetarian dish smell like the lamb kabob my coworker ordered. Triple score shawty. I'll be back, Shalimeezy. read more