There is this Chinese restaurant I pass by everyday on the way back from work. Last Friday, I decided otherwise. Friday evening, chicken wings on my mind, an unexplored Chinese restaurant — too much to handle.

The already cramped place was now more cramped with my arrival. A couple on the left looked into each other while the soup waited silently on the table — some soup for the soul, that. With the menu in my hand, I finally obliged. All this while, the guy behind the counter, somewhere from North East I guess, was staring at me with cold eyes.

I kept rolling my eyes until I hit upon something that I had never had before: Chinese Roast Chicken. And that is when the confusion started.

“How is this different from the usual roasted chicken?”

“It is roasted.”

“Yes, but how is it different?”

“It is roasted.”

“No, no — ok. How is this different from mughlai roasted chicken?”

“It is Chinese.”

“OK, but what is the difference. ”

“That is Mughlai. This is Chinese.”

A few futile questions later, I head back, without ordering anything. More than my frustration it seems, was the disgust of the guy behind the counter, who probably could not comprehend why would someone even bother to ask the finer things about Chinese Roasted Chicken.

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