Which I’d forgotten to include before: namely, that the town where I vacation is both near the casserole-intensive part of the Midwest (though not yet in “hot dish” country) and a college town. As such, it’s settled on an ethnic food compromise whereby it has both Mexican and Indian restaurants*, but the proprietors are prepared to largely serve my people, such that I, the second-biggest spice wuss I know, can go in and order chicken korma or enchiladas and not bother requesting that they be made mild.
It’s a strange limbo.
*It also has sushi, but I have reservations about eating raw fish more than fifty miles from an ocean, because I myself am many years removed from college, and so is my digestive system. Alas, time wounds us all.