An Important Decision

After exchanging emails and calls via Skype with Dan constantly over the last 6 weeks, the time had come for the in-person meeting. Walking through the airport at Kuala Lumpur International Airport, I remarked to Brooke how neat it was to be waiting for our friends outside a terminal 24 hours away on the other side of the world. Granted, I would have said the same remark during the last five years, during which I lived in West Virginia, if I had a friend visit me there, as this would have been the same feeling.

Whether it is WV or KL when you have friends visit, you plan. First and most importantly, where and what do you want to eat? Other questions would be: Where do you want to go? What do you want to do? How do you want to get there?

Nestled in my DNA, the “what’s for dinner?” question is supreme. And it is not different when Dan and Christy come. If they were coming to Huntington, West Virginia, the answer would be our one and own Indian: Nawab Indian Cuisine.

Little did Dan know that I was crossing my fingers when I emailed him and asked him where he wanted to stay when they arrived into KL. We arrived a day before them in KL and we were responsible for setting up camp, but I wanted to make sure they were comfortable. Via email, here are your choices Dan: 1) Chinatown, 2) Golden Triangle (Bukit Bintang), 3) Little India.

Pick the right one, Dan. Actually, this is not a choice. Luckily, Dan was trying to appease me or he thinks just as similarly. The email returns, “Little India.”

Thank you Naan Supreme Beings, thank you.

Now that Dan and Christy have arrived, the first order of business is to find the food. Just when you think you have hit the end of Little India with the street life dwindling, we turned the corner to find this mecca of taste bud heaven. Five or six restaurants, overflowing with patrons, find our attention.

If I thought we had it good with Nawab in Huntington, I had never seen Little India or could even comprehend it. I had never seen a tandoori oven. In Little India, you need to watch your step on the sidewalk or you might be burnt by a tandoori oven. Yes, tandoori ovens on the sidewalk. Lined up. Take your pick.

And if I thought Nawab had garlic naan, I was mistaken. After four orders of garlic naan and one order of plain naan (stop, I know, I have already heard enough chastising from the other three in the group), we were in heaven. With the recommendations from the orange-haired Indian chef (owner, maybe?) we picked the tandoori chicken and lentils.

We devoured it quickly. Without the use of utensils, we scarfed the chicken and lentils with the  five blazing hot naans. We could have eaten 10 naans. The freshness of the food was incredible. You didn’t have to chew the entire meal, as the chicken, lentils, and naan just seemed to melt in your mouth.

In a huge stupor, we waddle back to our Little India hotel, talking about how good that meal was. Full and happy and my DNA was satisfied.

And I thought we had it good with Nawab.