I’ve gotten my refund for last night’s curried lamb fiasco.
Not a full refund, sadly, because I did end up eating the garlic naan I ordered (and it was quite good) and I am obviously not going to get my tip back.
I mean, can you imagine?
And my driver did their job perfectly well. They played no part in the culinary nightmare that was my burned and bone fragment filled Indian food experience.
So I just got the actual ~$16 for the curry back.
Nevertheless, I am going to order in again tonight so I can get something legal to feed to human beings. It will cost more than the refund, obviously, and that means it will eat more into my money on my card, but oh well.
I feel a spiritual need to compensate for having a lamb curry try to kill me.
Obviously, I won’t ever be ordering from Tandoori Oven again. I mean Jesus fucking CHRIST. Actual fucking BONES.
Clearly I’m still not over it.
Well can you blame me?
I have, of course, also given Tandoori Oven a one star review on DoorDash, along with the curt and accurate assessment, “My lamb curry was burned and had bone fragments in it. ” If they don’t like that, tough.
I mean, how the hell does that even happen? The curry getting burned, I understand. Someone clearly did not stir it enough. The need for stirring things like curries, stews, chili, and so forth so they don’t burn on the bottom is just one of the little annoyances of the world of cooking.
But BONE FRAGMENTS? It seriously looked like someone threw the entire lamb in there. I am pretty sure I could have fitted those fragments together and gotten at least half of a rack of lamb out of it.
And they had straight, clean edges, so they had clearly been machine cut. By some truly horrifying piece of slaughterhouse equipment, no doubt.
Coming this Halloween… see what happens when…MARY HAS A LITTLE LAMB! (SFX: chainsaw starting up)
Hmmm. Could the problem have occurred at the slaughterhouse meat packing plant? Not entirely. Even if they fucked up, someone at Tandoori Oven should have noticed the odd clicking sounds the bone fragments made as they bumped into each other.
I guess that kind of thing can happen when nobody is stirring the stuff.
In my heart of hearts, I think I deserve more than a refund. I think I should be compensated for my emotional distress. And there is the question of punitive damages as well. Surely someone at Tandoori Kitchen needs to be punished over this.
Because I was raised by television, that immediately makes me think of some ne’er do well last son of the family that owns the place getting screamed at by his long suffering and thoroughly exasperated father.
“All I asked you to do is stir the curry! Just stir! How can you fuck up stirring? Oh, and did I forget to tell you to make sure there are no HUGE PIECES OF BONE in there before you serve it to a customer? Must have slipped my mind!”
And all the while the poor guy is in the traditional “getting yelled at by your parents” posture. Head lowered, staring at the floor, shrinking back a little.
I bet that’s one of those things that’s universal. You could do a supercut of parents from all over the world and from all walks of life lecturing their kids and it would look exactly the same whether you’re in Jersey or Timbuktu.
I guess I am done now. Hopefully getting a nice meal tonight will help me to put an end to this whole sordid affair.
But seriously. BIG PIECES OF BONE.
Un fucking believable.
More after the break.
The other reason I feel grumpy
I’m really fucking cold right now, but that’s nothing new. Really got to pull the trigger on getting that space heater.
Or thermal tape. Or a lot of sweaters.
This can’t be good for me, living in an icebox. It’s especially bad once the sun goes down, like right now, naturally enough.
I’m not a well man and these chills and things must be stressing my system.
The root cause of the continuing problem is my chronic indecision, though. I could have had a space heater a week or more ago but I keep dithering about it.
Last time I was on Amazon.ca, I noticed that they had cute little desk model space heaters, and that might work for me.
My father had one of those for his office, and it worked extremely well.
Any one I get would not be nearly as fancy, but I like the idea of having the heat source be close enough that I could just point it at myself like a desk fan.
Kind of a desk fan in reverse, really. At least in terms of function.
I could even put it where my desk fan in right now. Obviously I’m not going to need the damn thing for a while so I could just stick in the closet and put its warmer cousin there.
My main worry would be frying or overheating some of my expensive computer stuff, of course. Heat and computers do not mix well.
So I might have to rearrange things in my room a bit to make sure the heat points at me and not the computer or the monitor.
Heck, that CPAP machine of mine has been sitting there on my bedside table gathering dust for more than a decade, I could stick IT in the closet instead and the desk heater could then be pointed directly at me.
Wheels within wheels.
Oh that’s right, I tried to pull the trigger on the space heater but it wanted my Amazon.ca password and I didn’t remember it so I went to look it up in my Google Keep.
And it’s not there god damn it!
I am positive I put it in with all my other passwords. And now it’s gone. So I am going to have to go through the whole “lost your password?” thing even though I am not the one who lost it!
Google Keep, my butt!
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.