Beef and chapati
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It was practically a hundred and fifty degrees out that day in Bangkok. But that isn’t what made me sweat. It was the Thai soup sold on the street that I was trying painfully to put down. I can picture the beautiful and delicate Thai woman, who had years of eating experience on me sitting on the little plastic seats, dumping extra hot peppers into their bowls. I mean dumping! Spoonfuls and spoonfuls of extra heat were consumed with such graceful ease. They laughed and pointed at me, as my face was dripping wet and my face was turning bright red. I was gasping for air and some sort of remedy to the scorching heat of my tongue and lips. But there was no remedy, so I kept on eating. And they kept on laughing. It was delicious.
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