A Dish of Potato
P.K.Ghatak, MD
No 9.
Eight of us rented a house in Kunduz, Afghanistan, and employed a cook. He came with great recommendations from one of our Afghan interpreters. The next day he came to work. At breakfast- the cook gave us a dish of fried eggs, sunny-side-up, and bread from a local bakery. We relished the hot breakfast and felt fortunate while sipping hot tea on a cold foggy morning. At lunch, we were pleasantly surprised when the cook placed a large dish of sweetly fragrant beef Biryani. This was undoubtedly the best meal we had ever since we arrived in Afghanistan a month earlier. However, he did not serve us any other dishes except bread. The cook left for his home at sunset, which was the usual practice because of security concerns. At dinner, one of us went to the kitchen and warmed up the leftovers. We ate the same dish once again.
The next day the cook dampened our expectations when he served us the same breakfast and lunch/dinner. We had expected more delicious food from him. On the 3rd day, he served the same dishes. The biryani no doubt was superb; even the best food loses its appeal when eaten repeatedly over several days and, moreover, we craved other dishes.
We decided to call in the cook and the interpreter. We told him we liked his biryani and fried eggs, but he could not make some other dishes too. He agreed, at least that was the way it appeared. But to our dismay, the food was no different the next day also.
Another conference with the cook revealed that the cook was stone deaf, and the interpreter admitted that he was his uncle. He was a farmer and not a cook. The interpreter promised he would serve new dishes.
The following day he served us a large plate of boiled potatoes and bread. There were no butter, oil, salt, or black peppers - just boiled potatoes.
We were speechless and had no choice other than to eat potatoes or go hungry.
We fired the interpreter and kept the cook.
Eight of us rented a house in Kunduz, Afghanistan, and employed a cook. He came with great recommendations from one of our Afghan interpreters. The next day he came to work. At breakfast- the cook gave us a dish of fried eggs, sunny-side-up, and bread from a local bakery. We relished the hot breakfast and felt fortunate while sipping hot tea on a cold foggy morning. At lunch, we were pleasantly surprised when the cook placed a large dish of sweetly fragrant beef Biryani. This was undoubtedly the best meal we had ever since we arrived in Afghanistan a month earlier. However, he did not serve us any other dishes except bread. The cook left for his home at sunset, which was the usual practice because of security concerns. At dinner, one of us went to the kitchen and warmed up the leftovers. We ate the same dish once again.
The next day the cook dampened our expectations when he served us the same breakfast and lunch/dinner. We had expected more delicious food from him. On the 3rd day, he served the same dishes. The biryani no doubt was superb; even the best food loses its appeal when eaten repeatedly over several days and, moreover, we craved other dishes.
We decided to call in the cook and the interpreter. We told him we liked his biryani and fried eggs, but he could not make some other dishes too. He agreed, at least that was the way it appeared. But to our dismay, the food was no different the next day also.
Another conference with the cook revealed that the cook was stone deaf, and the interpreter admitted that he was his uncle. He was a farmer and not a cook. The interpreter promised he would serve new dishes.
The following day he served us a large plate of boiled potatoes and bread. There were no butter, oil, salt, or black peppers - just boiled potatoes.
We were speechless and had no choice other than to eat potatoes or go hungry.
We fired the interpreter and kept the cook.
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