Today Bipen introduced me to the most delicious thing: momo. He took me to his favourite momo spot—basically a 6 ft-square room with a stove—although you can also get this Himalayan delicacy from street stalls.
Everyone crammed around the tiny table was clearly impressed with the amount of hot sauce I used. Little did they know I’d built up my tolerance in Hyderabad.
Some doubted that an American could handle the authentic heat of local fare. But after helping myself to seconds and thirds of the “life blood†of the Hyderabad office, I earned their respect.
After crying and sweating my way through that particular meal and, later, a Thai soup that made my Hyderabadi friend cough, the momo sauce barely registered.
Photo: Matthieu Aubry
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