Odoriferously speaking, the omen is good. A thick, exotic perfume propels me to the table with muscular force. It is the same aroma, or at least I like to think so, that was met with similar satisfaction by the 16th-century olfactory glands of languid Mogul princes lounging on flying carpets in jeweled palaces. Their stomachs must have growled like Bengal tigers while they waited for freshly bathed Brahmins to unfurl domed... More >>>