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Jaron’s eyes light up as he pulls a lid off the first dish. The steam rises out of the bowl and brings with it a rich, spicy smell. “This is chicken vindaloo,” he says, revealing the deep, reddish concoction. “It’s a tomato sauce base with chicken, onions, potatoes, and a bunch of spices.”
I clasp my hands together. “I can’t wait.”
He then removes the next lid. The bowl is filled with bright yellow rice. “This is saffron rice,” he says. “It’s really good paired with the vindaloo.”
Jaron spoons a generous portion of the rice onto my plate. Then he puts several scoops of the chicken vindaloo on top of it. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have asked first.”
I nod my head. “Yes, please. I want to try everything.”
Jaron rubs his hands together before opening the third lid. I can’t tell at first if it’s rice or noodles. I lean in and notice the shorter grains. It looks like another rice dish. Only this one has several small, chopped up vegetables in it.
“This one is called vegetable biryani,” he explains. “It’s kind of like the Indian version of fried rice.”
I nod my head and lift my plate in his direction. “Load me up,” I say.
Jaron’s smile widens. “Yes, ma’am.”
I look around, eager to try them all. “Do you have a fork?” I ask.
Jaron laughs. He pulls the lid off another plate, revealing a pile of flat bread with dark brown spots. He hands me one. “Here’s your fork,” he says, grinning. “This is called naan.”
I watch closely as Jaron rips off a piece of the naan and then uses it to scoop some vindaloo into his mouth. I try and imitate him, but a little falls back onto the plate. The deep red sauce is hot at first, but it tastes so good, I keep eating despite my burning tongue.
“So is your mom from India too?” I ask, taking a breath between bites.
“Her grandparents are, but both her parents are American and she was born in America too. She likes to joke that she’s all American except for her cooking. It bugs my dad’s family that she’s so modern.”
“Really?” I ask. “Why?”
“They all still live in India and are very traditional. When we’ve gone to visit a couple times, Mom will wear a sari and put a bindi on her forehead. But she only does that to make my grandparents happy. As soon as we get home, she’s back to jeans and T-shirts.”
“That’s so cool you’ve been to India!” I say. “I’ve never been anywhere.”
“Really? Nowhere?”
I shake my head. “Not outside the U.S.”
“Not even Canada?”
“Not even Canada or Mexico. My parents aren’t that adventurous, actually.”
“That surprises me. I would have thought Coach had traveled all over.”
“We’ve been to a bunch of major cities in the U.S. like Los Angeles, Las Vegas, New York, Washington DC, Boston, and Chicago. I guess I’ve seen a lot here. But mostly to go to all the major baseball stadiums. I wish we had spent more time inthe historical parts of the cities. I love studying history. Outside of Harry Potter, both Historical fiction and non-fiction are my favorite genres.”
“I think that sounds pretty cool though. I would love to see a major league field! I’ve only ever been to Boshamer Stadium to watch the Tar Heels play. And as far as traveling goes, the only place we ever go is India. And it usually takes a few years to save up enough to get there. So in between trips, we’re always just at home. You’re lucky you’ve been able to see so many different places.”
“They were cool to visit,” I say. My mind flashes over our family trips throughout the years. Most of the time I was so busy fighting with my parents, I didn’t enjoy where we were. I wanted to check out local museums, while Dad preferred going to baseball games, and Mom cared most about shopping and restaurants. Listening to Jaron talk, I guess I really am lucky to have been to so many places. I didn’t think about it that way.
Once Jaron and I have stuffed ourselves on delicious Indian cuisine, we lean back in our chairs.
“I can’t believe you made all that for me,” I say. “I feel very special.”
“I think you are.”
I can’t look Jaron in the face when he says things like that to me. Thankfully his mom walks in, saving me from my awkwardness, and quickly clears the dishes.
“Thanks, Mom.”
