Wednesday, February 20, 2013

1001 Persian Nights

I went to a wedding late night with several girlfriends.  It wasn't close to home, but truth be told, the bride's mother is much loved and friends from the city were willing to make the nearly hour trek to join the festivities.

Before anyone reading this says, are you kidding - an hour, please realize that Los Angeles is a very big city, and each person here, be they single or part of a family, owns two cars.  And if you've ever been in traffic, which isn't hard to do, you'd know that they were driving both cars at once.

Anyway, picture this: white Jews at a Persian wedding hall having the times of their lives eating Persian food. Everyone, that is, but me.  Sorry, but the food looked weird, and there was some sort of sauce on everything and it smelled different.  Okay, obviously my love of diversity doesn't extend to food.

Well, that's not entirely true.  I love Mexican food, Italian food, Chinese food, sushi, and American fare such as hamburgers and french fries.  But Persian food is just too out there for me.

Everyone loved it and no one has complained of feeling sick.  I think, in hindsight, perhaps I was short sighted.  I should have tried something Persian, like the rice, literally plate after plate of it.  Or the stuffed chicken, which sounds pretty good right now.  All my table mates were oohing and aahing as they ate.

Lesson learned: don't be so judgmental.  Take a chance.  I mean, what the heck.  You can always throw it up later!

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