India, July 3 -- There are spaces that you enter with your body...
and then there are spaces that you enter with your soul.
When I walked into Trincas, I didn't feel like I had stepped into a restaurant. I felt like I had
crossed a delicate line into a parallel world, one stitched together by memory, music, and time.
The air was golden, not from any spotlight, but from a quiet warmth. That quiet kind of golden
you only find in memories you didn't know you still held.
Then suddenly, it hit me. The smell of freshly baked apple pie. Cinnamon and butter filled the
air, laced with the sweet promise of vanilla ice cream. And somewhere behind it all, I could smell
makhmali cheese kebabs and the gentle hiss of a sizzler being served.
The r...