Meet Gerald Rustworthe, a 65 year old white man from Provincetown, Massachusetts.

Growing up in a sleepy little town on the sea, Gerald always had one eye on the open horizon. He knew that there had to be more out there to discover. So, just like this great nation’s forefathers, Gerald eventually decided to risk it all and embarked on a journey East to India.

After enduring a brutal 14 hour economy plus flight, Gerald finally landed in Mumbai. He dropped off the only bag he had at a nearby hostel and ventured into a local street market in search of food. The smells, the spices, the Chicken Marsala. My god, it was unlike anything Gerald had ever experienced. He had to have more Marsala.

Weeks—no—months passed and Gerald solely ate Chicken Marsala, dedicating his entire being to the Marsala. But like many great artists, his infatuation quickly devolved into an addiction. One that forever consumes Gerald’s livelihood and culinary critique.