This past Thursday night was a highlight of my time at Amherst; it will forever endure as a cherished memory.
At 6:30 p.m., my friend Marisa and I met outside Stone and marched into town, chattering excitedly as we strode through blustery gusts of biting wind that blew heavy, wet snowflakes into our faces and hair. We hiked across the park and past Fresh Side, CVS and Miss Saigon before finally reaching one of my favorite restaurants in the world.
My parents’ college reunions fall on the same weekend every year. One parent can never visit the other’s, and generally my dad takes the kids to his because we live only an hour from his alma mater. When I was six, my mom decided to take me along on the five hour drive from Philadelphia to Amherst. I can’t say that I remember the reunion itself, but what I do remember is Northampton. More importantly, I remember a specific part of Northampton.
Throughout this fall, I found myself craving a hamburger. However, it couldn’t be just any burger. I needed one bursting with flavor in each bite of tender, juicy beef, and with each weekend, my hunger nagged at me and reminded me that I had not fulfilled my dream. Soon the desire morphed into a necessity, and I could hold off no longer.
Indian food is one of the best cuisines in the world. Everything from the meats to the vegetables to the fluffy, irresistible naan is spicy, flavorful and wonderful. My sister and father have less exotic palates than my mother and myself, so Indian food reminds me of my mom. We always go to the same Indian restaurant at home and, very unlike my adventurous appetite, get the same thing.
