My favorite Aghan restaurant

Driving home this afternoon I spotted a sign for Yalda, Afghan Restaurant, at 222 Horsham Road in Horsham, PA. In the front seat of my car was an envelope to mail at the PO, a grant proposal for my new Connexions group, to bolster communication skills for shy people, but I had hours before the PO closed.

I was curious to see what an Afghani restaurant looked like and how the food smelled. .

The owner, "Mo," short for Mohammed, greeted me warmly.

"I've never had Afghani food," I said.

"It's wonderful," said a married couple who were finishing their lunch. They mentioned they were bringing their 2002 Jaguar in for service, saying it was nothing but trouble. Of course I was interested cuz I'd recently driven a Jag when deciding what car to buy.

Mo's 21-year-old son, Omed, who helps his father offered to show me the menu.

It was filled with meat dishes. I told him I don't eat much meat but that I do like lamb. We decided on a brown rice, lentil, and lamb dish, which came with a scrumptious salad with yogurt dressing.

Do you mind if I eat standing up? I said. I carried my flatbread w/piquant sauces of hot raspberry relish and a cilantro dip around the restaurant as I looked at the artifacts from Afghanistan and newspaper clippings of all the papers that had given rave reviews to Yalda.

"My son went to school with a guy from Afghanistan," I said. "I doubt if you know him. His name is Afzali, short for AJ. He's a Volkswagen mechanic," I said.

"AJ!" said Mo. "He's my nephew. He moved to Albany and is studying to be a lawyer. He's the smartest of all of us."

It never made sense to me why he'd limit himself to becoming a mechanic so I was ecstatic to learn he'd used his considered intelligence and charming personality. He'd married a wonderful woman from Bryn Athyn and now had four children. AJ himself is one of 24 kids - his father was married twice. Afghan custom is to have lots of kids.

There was another puzzlement about AJ which I decided to bring up.

"He was a troubled kid," I said.

"He went nuts," said his uncle.

"Yes, exactly. They put him in a mental institution." From what I remember they actually diagnosed him with w/bipolar disorder. Fortunately he didn't listen to them and refused to take meds.

"Now, why did he go nuts?" I asked.

"His father died."

"Ah!" I said. "How old was his dad?"

"Ninety-one," said his uncle.

"Geez! It was time for him to die. But AJ couldn't handle it well."

Now he's at SUNY Albany with two more years of law school.

"He's the smartest of us all," said his cousin Omed. I was so pleased.

A newspaper article on the wall told the story of Mo's emigration to the US way back in 1973. He came alone, a scared 17-yr-old and began working at various restaurants in New York before opening his own pizza shop. Then he and his family moved to the Philly area where he became chief chef at the Highland Inn, all the while planning on starting his own Afghani restaurant called Yalda or "Let's celebrate!"

To me, its out of-the-way location is a real drawback. I found it due to its huge red sign and my own curiosity. I needed a nice antidote to the horrible war stories about the inland country of 28 million, an ancient crossroads of invading conquerors who wanted possession to ensure safe passage to the Silk Road.

"We are victims," said Mo. I asked if he watched the evening news. "Lies," he said. "It's all lies."

I got out of the political discussion.

"Are you Muslims?" I asked.

"We're Muslims. We pray to one god."

"Where's your mosque?" I asked.

"In the living room."

I was smacking my lips from all the delicious food I was eating. The salad dressing was particularly delicious. Actually, I learned, it was made from mayo, blue cheese, and spices. That was sure some salad dressing.

I told them to say hello to AJ for me. He graduated from Upper Moreland High School same class as my son Daniel. Dan is one of two children. AJ is one of 24. They're all in America thanks be to Allah.