Elephant chutney

The other evening I went for dinner at a friend's house. I arrived early and brought a bottle of wine to set the mood and as usual the kitchen was a hive of activity with people being recruited for bizarre tasks and fanciful endeavors. But what I found most interesting was the synergy between conversation and cuisine.
As we sat down to eat the wine was poured ceremoniously according to the rules of first engagement. A dreamy couple to my left began to serve themselves to rice while my friend sat quietly entertaining his own thoughts. The kids ate delicately and only sampled the conversation. Several people tucked in straight away and ran out of steam towards the end, other people paced themselves with small digestible mouthfuls. We were having an improvised kind of beef curry with dahl and naan bread and curried cauliflower as well as sauted aubergines in a tangy tomato sauce. We talked of culture and people and science and ideas. But all the while a dish sat serenly to itself in the centre of the table. No one dared touch it for it was known to be picante and dangerous but at the same time it stood there for all to see, brazenly staring us down. I longed to know what the food was but didn't want to draw attention to the fact that no one was bold enough to try it. I wondered why it was that no one dared sample the dish and therefore why it was there at all. But it was. Right there in the centre of the table. Untouched for all to see. The dessert was wheeled out and pleasantries were shared before the end of the night and yet the dish defiantly stood unperturbed.

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