Foodaholics Anonymous

The best cup of coffee I ever had was in Guatemala, where they grow coffee.

The best mango I ever had was also in Guatemala, where they grow mangos.

The best piece of cake I ever had was at a 300-year-old bakery in Budapest that once made pastries for the Hapsburg monarchy.

The three best seafood dishes I ever had were eaten in Zagreb, Croatia, overlooking the Adriatic, in which those aquatic creatures that I swallowed were probably residing that morning.

I have traveled an hour out of the way on the spur of the moment with a complete stranger just to seek out a local dessert that she told me about only one hour before.

I would rather work in an Italian pizza place for a day then visit the Coliseum.

And Alton Brown is my hero.

My name is Pat H, and I’m addicted to food. (Hi, Pat.)

It’s been really hard lately. The food here is so good and unique, and everybody is so willing to drop everything and feed me. It’s rare that I go a day without tasting something new and exotic that I’ve never had before. Plus I have so much opportunity to learn how to make the food myself. How can I resist my addiction when it’s just so easy to give in?

I fell off the wagon a little bit yesterday when Mr. Butail came to KLB to share some tea with Principal Ramdev and me. In case you aren’t familiar with the name, Mr. Butail and his family basically own Palampur. I have met him a few times before, but I had no idea that he and I shared the same affliction. This was made very clear to me when he pulled a small packet of fragrant leaves out of his pocket. Everybody’s eyes went wide. Kangra tea! The hard stuff! This is the tea that is for export only. It’s grown in the area, sure, but nobody ever manages to get their hands on the stuff. Mr. Butail obviously is well connected, but I had no idea that he was a fellow foodie.

Kangra tea is ranked as some of the best tea in the world. Literally. It competes on a world scale against teas from all over India and usually wins. Plus, there’s the price. It can be worth as much as 700-800 rupees (16 USD) per kilogram, if you manage to get your hands on some.

Anyway, Mr. Butail, Principal Ramdev, Akshay the architect, Mr. Rana the foreman and I sat down while somebody else prepared the goods. It really was like a bunch of junkies waiting for their smack. We were sitting around the table in the office, not talking much, and everybody kept looking at the door expecting it to come waltzing in at any moment. I’m pretty sure Akshay’s hands were shaking.

It was good. Really good. I’m not even a big tea drinker, but one sip of this converted me. So much complexity, so much flavor packed into a single cup. But really, it was the thought of the food that surpassed the taste. I was sitting there in a hill station in India, drinking one of the highest-rated teas in the world, only a few kilometers from where it was grown. Does it get any better than that? I think no. That’s how it always is with people like me. Guatemalan coffee and Hungarian cakes don’t necessarily taste better than their American counterparts, but the lore and legend of the food makes it truly delicious.

I think that Mr. Butail saw the affliction had a hold of me as much, if not more, than it had controlled him. That’s why the next day, he sent some Indian pancakes over to KLB, something that I had never before tried, for a extra breakfast. He even made two American-style pancakes, just for me. How awesome is that?

My friends, I’m here to tell you that these FA meetings need to stop. Don’t resist the urges anymore, it’s not an addiction. Give in to good food, and say no to McDonalds and packaged convenience food. After all, you only live once. Why waste it on bad food?