To my embarrassment, I'm having another hungover Friday. What can a 25-year old do on a Thursday night in Dubai, other than celebrating the glory and carefree of Dubai in a swanky bar, sipping drinks?



Too late to call it a brunch, but too early to call it dinner, my friend invited me for an afternoon breakfast (Definition of breakfast: the first meal of the day; it was exactly that) at Sind Punjab, to cure our hangovers, Indian style. Chalo!



Sind Punjab is not easy to find if you are not familiar with Bur Dubai. Close to Meena Bazaar, "the house of tasty Punjabi food" sports a bright red sign, with a red logo on it. Since 1977. The entrance is far from glamorous, and looks somehow dodgy, with just a small door through which you step back in time (or in India, you choose). To my surprise, the place is quite big, with 12 booths for 2 and for 4. On the ground floor. Yes, Sind Punjab has also a first floor, looking much more polished, with white table cloths and plush couches (from what I could see during my brief trip up the stairs).



What hit me first when I entered was the smell; it smells like a kitchen. The food borrowed its scent of mixed spices to the interior and, although pungent at first if not used to it, it wakes you up, reminds you where you are. I liked that I was the only "gori" (white girl) around, I felt out of place and exotic. The waiter seemed to think the same.

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Coming in, I let my friend fret about the order while I placed only two requests - chicken tikka masala and salted lassi (both are on my 100 food list challenge, so it was now or never).  I waited patiently while the order went on and on - butter chicken, roti, chicken tandoor leg, chicken biryani, raitha and he would have have order more if I would have said stop. 



Food hit the table all at once and I thought maybe we're waiting for more friends to join? No way in hell we can finish it all with the two of us, in one sitting. Yalla, I'm starving! Tentatively, I head straight to the biryani and fill my plate with rice, on top of which I put a generous portion of butter chicken (Tip: I came to know that, according to Indian customs, you first eat the bread and then the rice. So, you know the saying, when in Rome, do it like the Romans). This is, by far, the best butter chicken I had in Dubai. The best one ever, coming to think of it! For the inexperienced, the butter chicken consists of boneless chicken marinated overnight in yoghurt and a spice mix, served with a tomato, butter, tandoori masala spice mix and cream. It is not as spicy as other dishes, so it can be eaten also by those who can take only a bit of heat. The chicken was mouthwatering, with only one bite it was slowly disintegrating and exploding with flavour. The gravy was creamy but not heavy, very hearty. I claimed the bowl as mine as no one else could touch it (P.S.: it is indeed better with bread instead of rice).



Now, the chicken tikka masala packed some heat. Its history is as confusing as its taste for an untrained palatte, its legends as many as the spices used. In my book, the tikka masala is synonym with India - colorful, jovial, intriguing, "in your face". Boneless pieces of chicken marinated in yoghurt, pepper of all kinds, paprika and cumin and served swimming in a spicy, steaming hot tomato sauce. Eager to tick(ka) another item from my food list challenge, I fearlessly dig my roti in the sauce and go for it. Much to my surprise, the gravy packed more pepper than I could handle. I expected heat and awakening, I got an anesthetized tongue. I was indeed awakened though by a too peppery kick that stuck to the tip of my tongue, making it hard to taste anything else afterwards. Not cool, Sind Punjab, some warning would have been highly appreciated. 



To give my buds a break and bring my pulse back to normal, I decide to focus on the biryani (Tip 2: when eating something very spicy, don't try to wash it down with water, you will only push the spice deeper in your pores. Have some bread or rice, that will do the trick). I'm not one known to love rice (I'm more of a bread and potatoes kind of gal), but this biryani was good - "ghee-ish" enough, flavourful and not spicy, perfect to absorb that "extra" cocktail from the night before.



Moving on to more happy sights, I proclaim the chicken tandoori leg my next favorite after the butter chicken. The tandoor is a cylindrical clay oven, in which meat is cooked over charcoal. The marinated meat lets its juices flow over the charcoal which, in return, rewards the meat with a smoky, inviting flavor. The chicken was right up my alley - moist, mild spicy, falling from the bone and easy to eat (with your hands. Don't attempt to eat it with fork and knife, you'll embarrass yourself). Me personally, i like to it with raita. This yoghurt dip, made "interesting" with coriander, mint and pepper, cools off the heat of the chicken and adds a sour punch, a hint of acidity which I adore.



Proclaiming the end end of the feast, I quench my thirst with my over sized salted lassi. Lassi is nothing else but liquid yoghurt. Based on my (moronic) expectations, I expected lassi to taste like "liquid India" and be a blend of yoghurt with spices (cumin, cardamon, pepper, anything). But no. It was good, nevertheless, and very appropriate after a spicy meal. The disappointment happened only due to my crazy expectations. It is true what they say about the word "assume" - makes an "ass" of "you" and "me" (more me, in this case).



The afternoon breakfast at Sind Punjab delivered what I was promised - no hangover. I like the authenticity of the place, the no-fuss vibe, but that is something I appreciate in all Indian restaurants. I like their intrinsic hospitality, their genuine smiles and pleasure when they see a non-Indian liking their food (especially in small, hidden gems). No one is trying to elevate recipes, make them "21st century", no one is reinventing the wheel. It is fantastic to step back in time (or in India) once in a while.



In terms of looks, I might not fit in any authentic Indian restaurant, but in terms of palette, I manage quite well. With the exception of the tikka masala. I guess I'm not Indian enough for it.