Do you ever have one of these days where life feels like a pointless exercise in the never-ending struggle to find meaning? Well I was having one of those weeks. I usually jump out of bed with purpose when my alarm goes off, but at the height of my depressive spell, I’d spend a good 10 minutes staring at my ceiling, willing myself to get up. I know that life, however meaningless it sometimes gets, would be infinitely worse if I ditched work and stay burrowed under my blankets. But there has to be a more compelling reason to make it out of bed other than the fear of disappointing your coworkers and not wanting deadlines to pile up.
I don’t know why I sometimes I feel this way, and I’ve been driving myself crazy trying to understand why. All I know it keeps visiting me, the feeling that each day is another stage to play out the empty charade that is my existence, and I keep charade-ing on in the hopes that one day, I will wake up feeling like running towards life and love and meaning with arms wide open.
Existentially despairing
One Friday afternoon, I RSVP’ed to a college buddy’s birthday party in an attempt to get out of my head. The thought of reconnecting with old friends usually excites me, but as 5 pm drew nearer I started feeling FOMO towards sleep. Actually, the parts of me that were still awake wondered if I should bother when I felt too tired for social niceties. Plus what if I meet someone new? Ugh. The last thing I want is to fixate on some guy who shows me the least bit of attention.
I decided to go anyway, but not without heading home for a quick nap. As my tummy rumbled in EDSA traffic, I thought about how I hadn’t touched the groceries I bought on Monday. Then for the first time all week, I felt genuinely excited, because I remembered buying ingredients for chicken tikka masala, and I had enough time to make some before getting my party on.
Let me tell you all about chicken tikka masala. It’s my favorite thing to eat in THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD. Chunks of soft chicken breast marinated in a tangy mix of Indian spices, then made to simmer in a creamy yogurt-tomato sauce. Oh my God. It is the best thing ever. If you ever find yourself in an Indian restaurant, order a bowl of CTM plus some garlic naan to mop the leftover sauce up. Your life is instantly better. You’re welcome.
Chicken tikka masala came into my life at the height of my first real heartbreak. In my early twenties, I flew to San Francisco to see my long-distance boyfriend, only to learn that he wasn’t very interested in being my boyfriend anymore. Too heartbroken to make the most out of my trip, I spent a few days moping around the hostel, stepping out only to buy coffee and cigarettes. Eventually, I befriended the receptionist, a new transplant from the east coast who listened sympathetically to my how-could-he’s and why-is-this-happening-to-me’s.
We ended up exploring the city together during his days off, and once wandered into Indian restaurant after an afternoon of aimless walking.
“Order anything,” I said. “I don’t know what to get.”
He brought back a fragrant bowl of chicken tikka masala with garlic naan, and I observed as he tore off a piece of the flatbread and dipped it into the sauce. I followed suit, and from that first bite my palate was forever changed. Choirs of angels sang in my head as my taste buds tried to make sense out of the strange new flavors coating my tongue and the insides of my mouth. I’m no good at describing what food tastes like, but I can tell you that the sauce’s comforting warmth somehow made its way to my soul, which felt a little less sad and wounded with each bite. I smiled at my new friend across the table and he smiled back, and that made me feel better too.
Photo credit: seriouseats.com
Because of this, chicken tikka masala is more than just the best-tasting dish I have ever had in my life. It’s the gastronomical equivalent of a hug from a good friend. It’s a delicious reminder that no matter how bad things get, everything will be just fine in the end.
Once I made it home, I threw myself into prepping my dinner. Soon, I had my stew simmering on the stove and filling the apartment with all sorts of spicy aromas. And as I sat waiting for the sauce to thicken, I felt content for the first time in weeks. There I was, marking the passage of time with cigarettes, enjoying the Spotify-curated jazz music in the background, and waiting for my self-prepared dinner to reach its desired consistency and flavor. What more could I ask for?
Needless to say, I missed out on my friend’s awesome birthday party, but I don’t regret staying in one bit. More than learning to cook chicken tikka masala, that evening taught me how to do this “taking care of myself” thing my friends keep telling me about. I used to think that this meant yoga or massages, and I rejected the concept because I don’t really do these things.
But as I licked the bowl clean of masala sauce, I realized that “taking care of yourself” means doing little acts of kindness to yourself without being self-destructive. It’s learning to work around your flaws instead of hating yourself for it. It’s accepting the fact things don’t always work out, but that it’s not always your fault that life is shit and people suck sometimes. And as long as you can make your favorite dish in the whole wide world to cheer yourself up, everything will be all right, and life might not be as meaningless as you make it out to be.
BONUS: Lauren’s Lazy Chicken Tikka Masala Recipe
To make your own chicken tikka masala, all you need are four things:
1) chicken, chopped into bite-sized pieces
2) an onion, coarsely chopped
3) plain yogurt
4) a tikka masala spice packet (what, did you think I actually made this from scratch?)
Step 1: read the instructions on the spice packet, backwards and forwards, until you’re sure there is no way you can fuck up the dish
Step 2: marinate the chicken with whatever’s in the spice packet for 15-20 minutes
Step 3: stir-fry chopped onion until soft
Step 4: add the marinated meat, stir-fry for a bit. Add the recommended amount of water indicated in the spice packet, and 3 tablespoons of yogurt.
Step 5: the sauce will appear watery and gross. Let it simmer until the sauce reaches your desired consistency. This takes me about 20-30 minutes.
Step 6: serve straight from the stove while it’s piping hot. Consider investing in a tiny metal bowl, because chicken tikka masala cools down very quickly.
