They asked me how hot I wanted I wanted my chicken curry on a scale of 1 to 5. I said 4. The waitress looked at me with deep concern and said, “No, we make actual hot, you sure?” I stuck to my guns.

A few minutes passed. I saw the staff gesturing towards me subtly; they seemed to be laying odds on something. A while later the waitress returned with my order.

I was bemused to see that the curry was being transported in an iron bowl a good three inches thick. She was wearing some weird silver gloves … reminded me of science fiction.