An Indian restaurant counts as culture, right?
See, today is dark and rainy and the whole property is a mudbath, which means neither A. nor I were very inspired to do anything particularly industrious.
Plus, A. got his truck stuck in the mud in the lane leading to the pasture, so that pretty much put him out of commission as far as chores go.
That's why we decided to have a family excursion to the Not-So-Small City, in which there are many, many different kinds of restaurants AND a large, totally awesome library. Both of which make us very happy.
So we loaded Cubby into the car and drove to the Not-So-Small City, where I directed A. to an Indian restaurant we had seen many times but never eaten in before. I was quite firm that I wanted to eat Indian food. A. didn't mind--he's a fan. Cubby, however, had never had Indian food. I figured at the very least, he would eat the naan bread, though, so it's not as if he would starve.
I should've known better. That kid ate half of the food on my plate. On both of my plates, actually, because it was a buffet, so I re-filled. He ate tandoori chicken and chicken in yogurt curry sauce, rice with peas, naan bread, okra, potato, and finished off with a kind of rice pudding.
I'm going to say that Cubby's first experience with Indian food was a positive one. To understate the case. He may never eat plain oatmeal again. I'll have to start spiking it with curry.