Some of the best food in the world hails from the great Indian subcontinent. And, as the Taj Mahal is to India itself, Korma Sutra is to Indian cuisine in the United States. Now, I'm no stranger to Indian food; it had, before today, already been one of my favorites. But, as has often been made clear to me, I had never experienced the wonderfully seductive Korma Sutra, proclamated by a friend and former roommate of mine, Quinn, to be the best Indian restaurant and perhaps the best restaurant period. This relatively quaint establishment, unbeknownst to me, is located less than a mile down the road from the monthly Ferrari Club of Kansas City meetings that I frequently attend. Upon leaning this, as you will soon be able to imagine and understand, I was wrought with disappointment for wasting years of potential deliciousness. But, being like the other 7+ billion humans who at times so yearn, I am unfortunately unable to change the past. Recognizing this quickly and allowing my sulk to last for no more than a minute or so, I began scheming how I was to make the most of this long-awaited opportunity. What I came up with was quite simple. Simple is necessary when trying to maximize efficiency at a buffet. And, as a certified Buffetologist, I know how to maximize food intake with respect to time. With that being said, let's begin.
Upon arriving, the aromas emanating from the door were quite promising. Entering through the door into the cramped waiting area, I could almost taste the air for the thickness of said aforementioned aromas. I then noticed that the buffet was right next to the waiting area. It was so close I was literally standing in front of it while waiting for a table. This allowed me an unexpected preview, of which I took advantage to start planning the consumption that was now mere seconds away. We got our table, our waters were poured, and it was ON.
I anxiously walked across the room at a slightly quickened pace, my heart racing and my breathing shallow. I grabbed a plate, and there I was. The moment of truth had arrived. Going down the buffet, I grabbed some Tandoori Chicken, a little Chicken Biryani, a modest portion of Chicken Korma (the namesake of the Place), and a generous portion of Butter Chicken, for which I had especially high hopes. With my plate reasonably loaded, I carefully but quickly made my way back to the table. Upon my plate's safe return, I immediately added some of the fresh naan that had been brought to the table in my absence. This was the dream plate. I was in Korma Sutra, sitting at a tabled, my plate loaded. The feast was about to commence.
My first bite was of Tandoori Chicken. My tastebuds shot into an instant pleasure so pure it was unreal. My next bite was of Korma. My tastebuds, though already so deep in pleasure, responded still with a surge of delight. I moved on to the Biryani, and again I was met with flavors so intense. This left only the Butter Chicken yet to be judged. I, almost surrealistically, loaded my fork with a hefty chunk of chicken, swirled it around in the sauce a few times, and slowly brought it up to my mouth. I paused, relishing the moment, then proceeded to place the butter sauce-soaked chicken into my mouth, waiting for the response. It was instant. I experienced not only an amazing gustatory sensation, but a satisfaction so deep, words not only escaped me but I'm sure were unnecessary completely, as the faces I must've been making surely told the story well enough. This was a moment that had been two and half years in the making. It was a satisfaction so great I lost awareness of my surroundings for a brief moment. But just as quickly, I came to, and happily realized that even though I had just experienced such greatness, I still had much more of everything left on my plate to finish! I saved the remaining Butter Chicken for last, using the naan as a sort of scoop. I placed a piece of chicken atop the naan, then drizzled some of the butter sauce on top. This is just about the best taste in the world.
Also, while temporarily stunned into my pleasurably unconscious state, I had failed to notice that a mango lassi had been placed in front of me. Much to my delight, I began sipping on the yogurt-based beverage. Once I calmed down ever so slightly, I resumed eating. I worked through my plate with the utmost respect, and, taking my time, cherished the flavors and sensations as best I could. But, inevitably, the food on my plate was finite and eventually disappeared. Now I had a decision to make. Of course, the first rule in introductory buffetology teaches one to make the first plate a sampler. I performed flawlessly. The second rule states that the second plate should feature your favorite two or three item from the first plate, in bigger portions. This I where I strayed. I was so infatuated with the butter chicken that, upon returning to the buffet, I loaded my second plate first with a couple spoonfuls of basmati, and then solely with butter chicken. After a couple scoops, my plate still appeared rather too empty. After several more scoops, and satisfied that I had enough for a second serving, I returned to the table. Upon my re-arrival, I noticed that a new chicken dish not offered on the buffet had been delivered. I tried some, and it was likewise delicious, and it was fairly spicy, a nice departure from most of my other items. I grabbed some more naan, and dove right in.
As I was about three quarters through my second plate, I became aware of my mistakes. I began to experience the first signs of satiety setting in. Rule 3 in buffetology states that there must, without exception, be room left for dessert after the second plate. Telling myself to power through, I finished my second plate, still enjoying every bite. All the while, I was joking with my friend, former roommate, and fellow big eater Andrew about smashing some gulab jamun. It quickly escalated, with me proclaiming that I would go for 10. Obviously a ridiculous overstatement and both of us being moderately full, we agreed that we would eat only a healthy 2 or 3. I got up, walked over to the buffet and grabbed a bowl, in which I placed 3 gulab jamun. Andrew thus followed suit. Right after I took my first bite, I knew I was in trouble. For one, the gulab jamun was delicious. For two, a plate of skewered ice cream pieces was brought to the table. Being a bro, I supersetted some ice cream carbs with my syrup-covered fried dough carbs.
The ensuing minutes were rather sketchy on a keeping my food down basis. There were several moments where I genuinely thought that I may be imminently headed to the bathroom. But I persevered and powered through. After probably five minutes, I began to feel better, now being able to cautiously stand. This whole time, Andrew was going on about how he felt fine. He eventually came to break our truce, and headed back to the buffet for his 13th gulab jamun. Upon arriving at the buffet, however, he realized that there were no more left: we had literally eaten all of the gulab jamun, 24 in total between us. With that, we paid our bills, concluding an amazing experience that far exceeded any expectations conceived beforehand.
Several hours later, having recovered slightly, I had a bowl of vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup.
*Note: In addition to the wonderful food described above, I had two scoops of brotein after a morning bro gym session.
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