Culinary irony

So I'm staying in what is probably the world's most famous city, food-wise, and I haven't had a decent meal yet. Lunches are taken at the 'fec downstairs, and in 3 days have presented a brick-heavy quiche, a bloody ordinary leg of chicken, and today a chunk of rump-steak that moo'ed when I stuck a fork in it. Seriously, it was blue as a Russ Meyer film, and I just couldn't get through it. Breakfasts are a waste of time - the traditional European bowls'n'rolls concept, as I first encountered in Italy last year, and for dinner I just can't bring myself to eat out alone - it's depressing - so after a kebab Wednesday night, I skipped it altogether last night and just went back to the hotel and crashed. What I wouldn't give for a Raj butter chicken...