More hues of blues

Like a thoroughbred with blinkers at the races, he had a one-track mind with a singular goal in sight. His was a relentless pursuit, and he would not rest till he breached the finish line.

“I’m telling you, it’s better than sex”, said he with the unshakeable belief of the devout.

“And how would you know that? You have no experience to talk of”

“Ha ha ha very funny, real wise guy aren’t you?”

“Annoyingly so”

“As I was saying, it’s better than driving the beef bus to tuna town”

“The what to the where?”

“You know, making the beast with two backs? Playing hide the salami?”

“Oh for crying out loud, Yatin, do you have to use food analogies? We’re about to have a meal, for Christ’s sake!”

“But it IS better than sex..”


“…With your dream woman…”


“…in all the dream locations in all the ways you dreamed unimaginable”

“ALRIGHT ALRIGHT FINE. I get the mental picture you’re painting, even if I don’t want to. Now zip it.”


I’m sure Yatin Gadgil  gets a cut of all sales at Indigo, but he insists he’s more of a proud mother duck when it comes to all things Indigo. Yes, Indigo, that bastion of guaranteed happiness, mind-meltingly great ice cream combinations (hello, blueberry and mint!) and fantastically refined comfort food that gladdens the soul.Of course, these outposts of Indigo don’t touch the lofty heights that the mothership does, but it dishes up extraordinarily nice experiences consistently without the fussy pretenses you might find elsewhere.


And so, we had dibs on the ribs. Tender, juicy, succulent ones that were rib-iculously good. Paired with some soft, almost cake-like cornbread that was the perfect accompaniment to mop up the BBQ sauce, these ribs were perfectly done and spiced with just the right proportion of fat to meat. With the protein just sliding off the bone with every greedy mouthful like a clumsy kid on a freshly waxed floor, each mouthful was a flurry of great flavours (sweetness, smokiness and a touch of savory) that remind me why pigging out on pork ribs is such a hearty, heavenly comfort.

Better than sex? I’m not sure about that, but it’s pretty damn close.

Back in school, when I was much thinner and my wiry legs carried my body much faster than they could every think of doing now, I was a champion sprinter. Or would have been, were it not for a few guys that always bested me. When pitted against them in a race, short or long, I knew I’d always come out second best since my spirit was never lacking fight, but the body did. I knew I’d come out second best, inevitably.

That Jambalaya was like me on the day. It was always going to finish second best on the day, come what may. The bold, spicy flavours of the Jambalaya were comforting, but it’s like scoring a date with your crush for prom and then having the cute girl you never quite adored come ask you out too. There’s nothing wrong with the cutie, but she’s not your crush, is she? That’s why she’s the bridesmaid and not the bride.

I enjoyed the medley of sausage and seafood in the Jambalaya, and even the chile relleno balanced atop, but there’s no way this dish was going to cross the finish line in first place on the day. There could only be one winner on the day, and the BBQ ribs were it. Those little piggies had captured our heart, and they bloody well knew it.

Even as the scenery changes as the crow flies from the suburbs to Sobo, Indigo remains an integral part of the culinary landscape with meals that often drive away the blues like almost no other eatery can. It’s why I will continue visiting one of their many outposts to continue feasting on the finer, sometimes simpler, joys of life.

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