The Cho-Cha Returns!

Sometimes, I truly believe that when I have kids, specially a daughter, I won’t bother reading fairy tales to them. Not that I have anything against the Grimm brothers. On the contrary, their non-edited gory versions of the stories aren’t that different from my own writing (glass shoe full of blood because toes were cut off to fit the foot in…man!). But I do believe a large part of the dream of Prince Charming and happily ever after starts off at a very young age thanks to books like these. Growing up, Rom-Coms don’t help, and Bella Swan swooning over vampires and werewolves definitely takes feminism back quite a few years.

Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against romantic stories or happy endings, I DID read the entire Twilight series rather eagerly after all. But I do believe a lot of important things in life should not revolve around finding your Prince Charming. I hope you find your love, if that’s what you want, and live happily ever after. But I also hope that your own happiness doesn’t only depend on the ever after.

Take my love for American Chopsuey, for example.

American Chopsuey (which is frankly more Indian by now than American or Chinese) is one of the least liked dishes on a Chinese menu in India. The biggest reason being the fact that it’s sweet, and that’s rarely liked by spicy Indians.

On the other hand, it’s one of my favourite dishes.

But the biggest issue with the dish is the size of the serving, which is almost always too massive for one measly human being to devour. And thanks to that, I was always on the look-out for someone to share the dish with. While at home, my sister and I became best friends at the time of this meal and happily shared what no one else really liked. But once out of Delhi, I suddenly found myself Chopsuey-less.

And so it came to be… the random crazy belief that the one way I’ll know that a guy really is perfect for me, is if he also likes American Chopsuey.

Ya, go figure.

Years and multiple relationships (both Chopsuey-full and Chopsuey-deprived) later, of course this sounds beyond stupid.

And yesterday, having heard my sister recite similar Chopsuey-longing troubles (sans the silly Perfect guy theory, duh) it suddenly hit me.

I didn’t need a guy’s true love to be able to hog on American Chopsuey.

I just needed my own.

Sure I might not be able to finish it, but that’s what doggy bags are meant for!

Sure I’m about to gain weight.

And maybe give my sweet tooth an ache.

But I think it’s time to bring the Chopsuey Challenge back, no?

So whether alone, or with A (who will definitely be ordering something else!), or maybe with you, I’m gonna hog on a whole lot of American Chopsuey!

Know a place in Mumbai worth trying? Let me know!!