Come eat more curry, anytime

I spent most of 2018 at Piedmont Cancer Institute’s infusion center, receiving two rounds of chemotherapy with a break in between to recover.

I named my wigs. Natalie was my high-end option, and my hair stylist, Rudi, helped me pick it out and maintain it. My natural hair is thin, tightly curled, and frizzy AF; Natalie let me experiment with thick, straight, and smooth hair, perfect for tucking behind an ear.

Losing my sense of taste was far worse than losing my hair. I could do nothing but trust that, in time, it would return. My coffee ritual continued, but with less joy.

There were bright spots, though. Some foods didn’t taste like metal or sawdust. On my CaringBridge page, I wrote about the unexpected pleasure of tasting my favorite curry at Chai Pani in Decatur, where we lived at the time. The flavor was mild compared to before-chemo times, but it gave me hope.

I’m not sure how the Chai Pani team learned about this, but they did. One day, I received a card in the mail from the Chai Pani Restaurant Group in Asheville. It included a gift card, a warm get-well message, and an invitation: “come eat more curry, anytime!”

Years later, we now live in Asheville. It probably goes without saying that we are huge fans of Chai Pani, Botiwalla, and Spicewalla. We were loyal customers before their generous outreach, but that small act will never be forgotten.

Today, I visited my favorite bookstore, Malaprops, and picked up my signed copy of the Chai Pani cookbook by Meherwan Irani, popping by Spicewalla to buy the accompanying box set of spices. My winter “cozy” project this year will be cooking my way through this book. I will savor every bite.

I doubt whoever wrote that card imagined I’d still be thinking about it years later. But that’s the thing about a small kindness: you rarely get to know how long someone will carry it.