Today L and I were both feeling deprived of a good onam sadya. Both our mothers insisted on calling us and describing everything that they are making. It's gross this behaviour.
There is a bit in an episode of Lost where Claire is eating imaginary peanut butter that reminds me of Anne Fadiman. In Ex-Libris she has an amazing essay about the greatest meals described in literature. Of course, the most wonderful ones were the ones written by people not in a position to eat -- explorerers and others far from the larder.
Naveen Andrews is yummy, sexy but hilarious. I can only see him as a Malayalee man who is mouthing lines and thinking 'yeah right'. At some point he talks of 'finding a way to communicate with the Korean lady.' The inappropriate smirk on the 'Iraqi' soldier's face! Oh welcome back to your lewd home, my king.
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