Vindaloo

As I was cutting through the mall on my way home from work I got side-tracked by the delectable aroma of Shamiana's spices wafting down from the food court. So I stopped and ordered the chicken vindaloo. The lady told me it was really hot and checked (twice) if I was ok with that.

Of course I was ok with it; I wouldn't have ordered a vindaloo if I didn't want something with a spicy kick. And no, I did not need to order a drink aswell.

The way she went on about how hot it was, I was expecting it to sizzle my tonsils off on the way down and transform me into a veritable fire-breathing dragon. But no. It was only westerner hot. Crestfallen was I.

Despite the build-up of false expectations it was still good and just what I wanted.