Baron and Peedles: Episode #4 - Part 8 (Conclusion)

So it occurs to me on the..um...tail of the last posting that there is one person who has a nose in this entire debacle, and he's not complaining (which in itself is odd, given the nature of his real-life counterpart, who is very vocal on the same topic).

So I'm with the hapless apprentice on this one. No nose means good news.

For those of you who don't know what Bangalore Phal (panel 6) is, please do give it a try if you like Indian food. It's a delightfully mild and pleasant dish, yum-yum-yum, shovel it down by the forkful, you'll never eat enough. There's beef, lamb, and vegetable versions which are guaranteed please even the discerning and epicurean gastronome. Order it with your favorite perfumed rice dish and let your nostrils take you on a journ...

...

Ok. Fine, I may be underselling this dish slightly. When I use the term "mild", I'm using it from the perspective of a PLAYMOBIL® figurine, whose taste buds are made of space-age nonreactive polymer.

Bangalore is mild in the same way that one says "flaying is a mild skin irritant" or that "Joseph Carey Merrick had a mild skin condition".

"Oh that... he probably contracted it after eating Bangalore..."

This flavourful dish will induce near-toxic levels of profuse sweating and may induce hysterical giggling in the unprepared. Bring a towel and be prepared to burn it when you're finished wiping down. And stand upwind, for pity's sake.

"What's that Mango Lassie? Timmy fell down the Tandoori oven?"

Mango Lassie is the only one who can save you. You will come to understand this when you hear the tortured cries of your neighbours: "The raita... it does NOTHING...why does it HURT?"

This food comes with its own disclaimer and federal investigation procedure. I order it locally and get put through a third degree interrogation:

"...and one order of Beef Bangalore Phal, please."
"It's very hot, sir"
"Yes, I know"
"It's veryvery hot." (subtext: "and you sound veryvery white..."
"Yes, I still want to eat it."
"Have you ordered it before?"
"Yes."
"Have you ordered it from HERE before?"
"YES, already."
(resigned sigh) "verygood sir, one order of Beef Bangalore..."

Bangalore, incidentally, is the delightful little culinary tastebud tickler that started my wife's contractions when nothing else would.

It's that powerful. Do not ignore the power of its uterus-bursting magic. Yes, now you too must live with that haunting image.

John Hurt ate Bangalore just the once, but he desn't have a uterus, and look where it got him.

This is starting to sound too much like a chain letter. If you mail this out to ten of your closest suicide-wing-fan friends, at least do me the favour of inviting them all out to take the Bangalore Challenge.

10 people, 10 dollars, 10 minutes for one lucky guy to eat the entire Bowl of Bangalore.

- No liquids and no consuming anything that is non-bangalore until you're done, challenger.
- Regular, consistent bites. Up utensil, down utensil. Chew, chew, chew.
- No tricky swallowing without tasting, allowed. Enjoy the flavour.
- No pausing, just keep eating. No stopping for even a few seconds to catch your breath.
- Yum-yum-yum, shovel it down by the forkful.

It's that simple.

Because the only way to cure the dreadful heat of Bangalore is (you guessed it) more Bangalore...

Bring a video camera. Send me a film of the happy event.

So see you next week for the first installment of a new arc, and on September 21st, next Thursday, to celebrate the end of summer, take some friends out for the first day of Phal...