In search of Curried Barbed Wire and Dhal...

Forget the title. It's something my father says. Like me he says a lot but at the end of the day, we've said nothing.

Curry. It's Saturday. Traditionally, it's supposed to be curry day. I haven't even smelt curry for the day. This is almost criminal. I am sure that this is in some way unethical, immoral even. Definitely a bad thing.

There are packs of curry in my cupboard. I am contemplating making some. However there is nothing to curry. I used to make a mean curry corn beef. Yes, curry corn beef. Doh bother to read it again. If you don't believe what you've read, message me, I'll make some for you.

Now on the real yellow sauce of this post.

I want to someday open a 24 hour drive thru roti shop. I will call it Epi-curry-us. For those of us who are ignorant of the fact (Trini's please don't get offended and start to behave ingnorant), Epicureous comes from Epicurean which basically means in pursuit of sensual pleasures (get your mind out of the gutter) relating to good food and comfort.

Visa and Mastercard accepted. You pull up, call down your order and then bham! Yuh drive thru. Roti in seconds from the comfort of your air conditioned car.

Prices? Better than a central roti shop!

Taste? Better than that roti shop in Gasparillo by de Gas Station.

Would you come curry-favour with me?