there are those who talk down to their readers and there are those who talk to their readers and then there’s me who talks at you good people. and this time, i’m here with my bibimbap, the finest form of rice after biryani. i’m in a different country, a different clime – but i’ll tell you this: bangalore is experiencing an asian rennaissance – south east and far eastern food are flourishing in its hipper districts, indiraanagar in particular.

it’s good to be asian in the subcontinent (midway between incontinent and fully continent). the city seems to not just embrace but celebrate these cultures: vietnamese, burmese, singaporean, indonesian, laotian, thai. whatever the state of the political relations between india and its eastern neighbours (yes, specifically you china), food diplomacy is hard at work, and delicious work that, especially between these two great and ancient rivals – street chinese here is to jihad for.

but here i am with my bibimbap. the only reason i’m not downing this meal in one go is because it is still cooking. yes. take note @bloodorangebyck, proper bibimbap is served in a hot earthen bowl. and you must have the right rice (not basmati), veggies and tender-ass beef to do it any justice. sides of kimchi and korean hot sauce are of course necessary, it goes without saying.

now, earlier that afternoon, outside a money changer’s office, i had a holy moment. no, it had nothing to do with their rates. which reminds me: the day before, my sister faathumaafulhu told me, and rather proudly if i may say so, that she’d exchanged some money at a very good rate and they ONLY charged her a commission of a thousand rupees. dear god!

but no, it had nothing to do with the exchange rate (which is pretty good btw). the money exchanger’s office was in a deep, tree-lined lane that ended in a cul de sac. a sprawling, newly painted, red shingled house sat on the end. the palms, frangipani trees and oaks were all cloaked in the gold of late afternoon. birds chirruped and warbled. occasionally, the clatter of dishes in some kitchen and the delighted squeal of a child at play. a dogeared dog trotted over, and panting, lay to rest by a wrought-iron gate. and all of this seemed to be happening to me and with me in a single, unified moment.

and that is exactly how the bibimbap tastes when i finally take a generous bite – all the disparate elements coming together in a single, sublime event. yes, take note.