I have an uneasy relationship with street food in South Asia. I've had my share of unfortunate encounters in India, and Sri Lanka, and I didn't want to add Nepal to my list. But after wandering Durbar Square for a few hours, I found myself famished. Afraid of what the cool climate and toxic levels of air pollution might be doing to the bananas hanging from shop windows, I went in search of something from the bottom of a big bubbling hot pot.
Enter pink pancakes. Near the east gate to Durbar Square, I came across this tiny little stall and a husband and wife team working over the hot pan. To be honest, I'm not sure this is even a street stall - it could have been their house - but they were eager to share their foodstuffs with me, and I'm not one to turn down an invitation. We chatted for a little bit about life in Kathmandu and life on the road, exchanged handshakes and email addresses, and we carried on with our adventure. Nine months later, I remember very little about our time in the square itself (though it is a sight to see), but I can recall just about every detail about this man and his pink pancakes.