Oy, I almost don’t want to write this– but I took so many pages of notes during my disastrous dinner at Tandoori Nights in Clarendon, that all that information deserves to be used. I know you’ll appreciate reading some of it, since our threads on dining, fine or otherwise are consistently popular. So let’s get this over with.
I’ve recently become an addict of EMS. I know, I’m the only one who has ever entered the store in stiletto heels, but what can I say? You can only spend so much time underground with Abhi before he begins to influence you. While I work up my nerve to (gulp) actually go camping for the first time, I’m going to keep frequenting EMS; for some reason, it makes urban-me want to be outside. Powerfully magical, I know. So between my forays to gear mecca and the container store (and yet– my apartment is still disorganized), I noticed that a potentially brown restaurant had opened on the second floor of the ritzy Market Common at Clarendon, just outside of D.C.
Yesterday, I decided to give it a shot, even though I was a little put off by the restaurant’s font. Yup, I’m that kind of dork. Why wouldn’t I be? If words are my life, the shapes of the letters which create them matter, too. I looked down at my outfit, which I had worn earlier to the amazing lecture Sajit blogged about at the Smithsonian. It was casual, but to me, so was the font. So imagine my shock when I tentatively walked through the front doors and saw a lounge sleek enough to impress, a distinguished man in a well-cut suit who looked like the manager and a mural of brown women on the ceiling which made me want to faint because I spent so much time craning my neck back to memorize it. “WOW,” I thought to myself, “it’s GORGEOUS.”
I simultaneously regretted my clothes while planning a meetup or party that just had to take place in this space. Much like it jinxes the shit out of my crushes on boys to imagine my first name with their surname, all of my moony swooning, my counting parties before they were hatched…well, it virtually guaranteed doom. 🙁
My friend and I were seated in a beautiful, semi-private room and were asked if we wanted still or sparkling. I opted for the first and the busboy blurted out, “it’s bottled”. Um, okay. I wasn’t sure what to do with that so I asked him what brand. He didnÂ’t know. When he came back, he said “Voss” and my pretentious-meter went off so hard it broke. How very glam. And everything on the menu was spelled properly! Well played. I wanted to get one of my favorite appetizers, Aloo tikki, but I noted with dismay that it came stuffed with cheese. Can I get a hearty “wtf”? It’s not a fusion place. I started to notice two things: there was a “Kashmiri” version of almost everything (meaning it contained nuts and dried fruit) and cheese was stuffed in to several entrees, including the Dum Aloo. Now this zimble Southie doesn’t pretend to be all-knowing about foods of the North, but I’ve never seen cheese in so many dishes before. I opted for the Samosas and Aloo Papri Chaat, because I reasoned that there was no way they could possibly botch the first. Shit, Dean and Deluca makes those.
Unfortunately, the Samosas were terrible. They looked and tasted like they had been over-nuked. Dark orange-brown and too tough to slice with my dinner knife, I hoped that at least the insides would be nummy. Sigh. I couldn’t really taste anything. Bland, salt less potato disappointed and I couldn’t even finish my ONE Samosa until I had drowned it in Imli and Mint chutneys, which I had to request extra of, since the very sleek and pretty rectangular condiments dish had enough chutneys to count as decoration, nothing more. I hadn’t cared when we were seated and I first noticed that, since the imli, mint and mystery goo were meant to go with the papad–a combination I’ve never particularly understood or needed– but this was an appetizer emergency.
Once it was possible to suitably drench it, the Samosa was consumed. All I could think of was, “But…I can eat Café Spice Samosas unadorned. It doesn’t have to be this way.” I’m thrilled to report that the Aloo Chaat was fantastic, its red onions spicy and its presentation pleasant. I was a bit confused though, since the menu stated that it came with chick peas and…there were none to be found. “Whatever,” I thought. “So minor.” Actually, it was a harbinger of what was to come.
I wasn’t excited about ordering my entree but I totally expect that lack of zeal at a restaurant which has the word “Tandoori” in its name, especially when you consider that the menu contained an entire page for lamb dishes. There were as many of those as seafood and chicken, combined. The problem is I’m a terrible vegetarian. I don’t like baingan, yet there were two eggplant dishes, if I remember correctly. I’m also not a fan of paneer. In fact, the only things you can count on me to love are okra, chick peas and potatoes.
I did perk up when I spotted Dal Makhani towards the bottom of the veg page, but I worried that it wouldn’t be buttery or creamy enough. After dating a Dosco who was born and raised in Delhi, my DM standards are ridonkulous. All those cans of Bukhara Dal he lovingly carted back from holidays at home have set the standard for me; the only worthy substitute can be found at Heritage India, which isn’t surprising since at some point, their Chef had worked at the Maurya Sheraton which features my beloved Bukhara.
I was in a whimsical mood and I really didn’t want to order the chole or okra, since I generally prefer to get food that I can’t make myself when I’m eating out, so I asked the waiter for a taste. Forgive me; I’ve been spoiled at the ice cream store. What irked me more than his denial of my request was the way he handled it. Unlike our slightly bumbling busboy, who was sweetness personified, our waiter was…not good.
I know I’m the most difficult person in a group when at a restaurant, because if it’s not desi, I’m going to ask about exactly how veg dishes A and B are, but I also tip accordingly, since I remember my bartending days well. This wasn’t ChiliÂ’s; this was a pricier, more upscale place. Requests shouldn’t be received as if they are horrifying. Are you telling me that it’s only the $$$ places which take care of you? The one time I ate at Asia de Cuba, a restaurant whose cuisine I can’t stand, I had a fantastic time, because they went above and beyond to make sure I ate something and liked it. But that’s a story for another meetup.
Our waiter couldn’t handle basic questions about dishes or much else for that matter, so we looked at each other and decided to K.I.S.S. “Okra do piaza and chana masala with garlic naan and an aloo paratha, please.” He nodded and left without taking our menus or refilling our glasses. They had seated three parties at the same time in the same area we were in and the only good thing about all the commotion and confusion was that everyone was dressed more casually than I was.
We waited for our entrees. And waited. And then we waited some more. And then guess what we did? Yup, wait. Finally, someone came to our table…to take our appetizer dishes and the pretty chutney tray. Okay, that’s a good sign, right? Nope. It was just the commencement of more waiting. IÂ’ve never had a longer gap between appetizer and main course.
At this point, I had retrieved my moleskine and waterman and I was jotting down notes feverishly. I opened the abandoned menus to copy down ingredient lists and I wondered why no one was saying anything to me. The one time I took my camera out of my bag (in a quest to find lip gloss) at H+M on fifth avenue, I was stopped immediately by a salesperson who told me that pictures were NOT allowed. I would’ve thought someone at TN would be similarly concerned.
Whatever. Writing was a way to take my mind off food. Except it wasn’t. I found myself growing less and less hungry, because my stomach actually had enough time to say “What’s up?” to my brain, it was taking THAT long. We debated just canceling and getting our check, but we couldn’t find anyone to facilitate that. I was irritated, frustrated and on my nerves it all grated.
At what felt like a much later point, our waiter came by to enlighten us thusly: “It’s taking a while.” No shit. “Um, sorry?”, he ended before wandering off. Wow. My friend was doing everything but jingling keys in front of me, to distract me from how terrible the experience was. Our busboy arrived and actually took the menus. “The kitchen is busy,” he said, apologetically.
Several minutes later, our food arrived. After the samosas, I worried but still cautiously dug in, slightly alarmed that our bread basked was paratha-free. I had bigger problems; there was cheese in the chana. W. T. F. I do NOT eat paneer. I do NOT order dishes which contain it. I felt irritated, especially when I realized that it was not that different than finding a prawn in your otherwise veg dish. It just seemed sloppy and disrespectful. The waiter was telling a nearby table that the the food was very, very spicy and there was no way to really alter it when I got his attention. Reluctantly he came over and I asked him about the mysterious white cubes in my chole. To my astonishment, he pushed back. “They’re not paneer. They’re cheese.” Okay…
“Whatever they are, why are they in this dish?”
“It comes with it.”
“I really don’t think it does, I wouldn’t have ordered it.”
“Well, maybe you didn’t see that it said that.”
“May I?” I asked, as I forcefully removed a menu from his hand. I flipped it open to the Sabzi page and pointed to the chana. It was supposed to have pomegranate, not cheese.
“Oh. Well, I don’t know. I think it’s a special Punjabi preparation. I’ll take it back–“
“No, don’t worry, we know, the kitchen is slow. We don’t want to incur further delays, we’ll make do,” my friend interjected.
Happily, the waiter scurried off as I gingerly bit in to a potato from the chole. It tasted raw and slightly bad. Oy. I tried a forkful of chick peas. Also raw and slightly hard. Dear Julia, was everything going to be teh suck? I know they were rushing, but come ON. I decided to try the okra, since it’s my fave vegetable. The okra was fine, the cubed tomatoes which surrounded it were undercooked. Normally, I’d think that they were meant to be, but after the chole, the aloo and the gummy naan which I won’t bother telling you about, I felt like it was another error.
I had had it. I was slightly hungry, very thirsty (still no water) and thoroughly disappointed. We asked for our check and the waiter seemed excited to get it for us. I felt like talking to the Manager, since everything had been so awful. For the first time in over an hour, he seemed to have a free moment. I approached him and explained how the evening had gone. Before I had finished my second sentence, he was promptly and sincerely apologetic, assuring me that this was not a typical Tandoori Nights experience. If only his waiters were as professional and kind!
He asked very specific questions because he “want(ed) to get to the bottom of all this.” We walked back in to the room where I had been seated just as our waiter had snatched the card from my friend’s hand eagerly. The manager grabbed it and the check and said, “just a moment, please.” He ended up taking 50% off of our bill, which was a gesture we appreciated. As we signed the tab (still tipping based on the original check, not the discounted one, mind you) the waiter came back with a comment card, in case we had any feedback. Are you serious?
We walked out and I felt crushed. Not even a trip to EMS could cheer me, though I did see a sweet hoodie with the original ice axe graphic. I really wanted to like Tandoori Nights, because I think it’s pathetic that eight years after I first moved to D.C., only ONE restaurant, Rasika, has joined my duo of favorites (Heritage India for Northern and Amma for Southern). Are there really no other worthy restaurants? As much as I adore Amma, it’s casual. Heritage is nicer but it’s not beautiful. I want Tabla or Tamarind-level beautiful, even if this isn’t Manhattan. One of the prettiest places to get brown food in D.C. is the venerable Bombay Club, which has food that is almost as bland as Tandoori Nights’. I don’t mind going out to the flawless, chic Rasika but I have friends who don’t want to leave NoVa. Tandoori Nights would have handily solved that problem, if only the food was a tenth as good as the décor or the ManagerÂ’s concern.
Anna, there is Tandoori Nights five minutes from my home in Gaithersburg. I could have saved you the trouble. It was equally horrible when I went two years ago 🙂 (but great decor).
Hey, don’t forget about Woodlands! They’re actually quite good…
When I’m in the mood for dosa (which is usually).
Last week I went to “India House” (Chicago) for dinner. Food was quite good..the service was excellent and music wasn’t too loud. Overall a pleasant experience.
I have actually always gone to Udupi, which I adore. The problem is both Udupi and Woodlands are farrrrr away. Believe it or not, I spend more time in Curry Hill (NYC) than I do in Langley Park. That’s why Amma is still the one for me– it’s actually IN D.C.
…just to clarify– I’m well aware that Clarendon is NOT in DC but Tandoori Nights is a block from the metro, just 3 stops outside of DC.
Is Woodlands metro-accessible?
Sadly no. That is, unless you mind taking the bus.
Erm, that should read ‘unless you DON’T mind taking the bus.’
So I’m not around any large desi communities, but my experiences with desi restaurants has been that I have to choose between awkward service with great decor, awkward service with great food, or awkward everything with a stingy helping of canned vegetables over-fried in mass-produced garam masala mix and topped off with a Flintstones “kulfi” for dessert.
Some speculation… I can’t explain the shitty food; if they’re hip enough to have a swanky-looking joint, then they would also invest in some culinary snob of a chef to match, and if they’re fobby enough to use plastic 80s decor, then they should at least have real desi food, right? But as for service, I’m thinking maybe our service aesthetic just doesn’t mesh with American expectations. In general, I think the desi attitude towards guests is incomparable with regards to the great care and attention we give them. I guess the Western mechanization and standardization of service ethic takes the organic fun out of coaxing your new guest to stay for a “chaisamaoa” (especially when you actually only came to buy a sari or electrical appliance). Or perhaps it has something to do with the fact that most of the servers I’ve had at desi restaurants have been passive or snobby desi men who seem to feel insulted that they have been put in a position of hospitality service? I dunno.
Btw Anna- I walk into REI in heels, get extra fobby in the wilderness, hate mushrooms despite being veg, and criticize my elitist ass off in painstaking detail about aesthetics… and all I have to say to you is this: You are such a fucking yuppie 😉
The best South Indian food (idlis, dosas, uthappam) in the DC area is Madras Palace in Germantown — hands down…
I grew up in Chennai, and still go there six/ seven times a year… know a good sambhar when I see one
I believe this dynamic is slightly more nuanced, with undercurrents of caste (low caste servers, high caste patrons) and colour (brown serves white, so why should brown serve brown?) hierarchies. This is complicated by the fact that the servers are first generation immigrants who have moved abroad to build a better life and to escape exactly this (perceived) humiliation. Note that you don’t get this attitude from restaurant owners, who are rather proud to serve you.
That’s what I figured (hence the yuppie self-hating in the end ;)), but I didn’t know much about the desis who work in blue collar or hospitality service jobs- just that they are immigrants who are not going to be 6-figure IT studs in five years. It reminds me of the only-watchable-because-of-the-sociopolitical-message movie Green Card Fever.
I just realized my comment to Anna sounds harsher than the jest intended. Pay it no mind Anna- I think I just projected my own dorkiness onto you. Still, wearing heels at REI or EMS is kind of hot in its own awkward way 😉
Ya’ll: Madras Palace is also 10 minutes from our home and it is in Gaithersburg behind Einstein Bagels and not in Germantown. Woodlands behind Lake Forest Mall went out of Business, and place is now called Sitar Nights. Food is North Indian style, but little more expensive than it should be. Madras Palace is OK if you like real “HOT” south Indians (I meant food) of course. Besides no matter what you order at these places, it is some variation of Rice and Urad daal mixed with lots of rasam anyway!! Hail Idli, Dosa, Sambhar, Medu Vaada, Uttapam, etc….
I like my Indian restaurants to have huge ass TVs which are playing extra loud Bollywood songs. The decor of course should be lifted straight from 15th to 17th century Mughal India combined with 9th to 12th century Hindu temples of South India.
When it comes to dining out at an Indian place, the only restaurant that has consistently been upto the mark is Indique in Cleveland Park. There is usually a 30 minute wait on weekends, but its worth it. The platings are eautiful, service prompt and with a smile…and the food is really good north/south fusion.
Nothing can beat a Bangladeshi Sylethi owned curry house in some provincial town in England with red velvet wallpaper, generic paintings of Mughals eating grapes with sari clad nymphets, Hindu gods, at least one painting of elephants, Ravi Shankar playing on loop, and one hundred orders of chicken tikka masala and poppadums just after the pubs close and generations of English men and women engage in what is now the most British of traditions, up there with football, cricket and the Queen; the Friday night curry with the lads.
Some souped up modern Indian restaurants in London try to be posh and special too —- but nothing can beat six lumps of chicken in tomato ketchup infused with masala and onions and served up as authentic Indian cuisine for the inebriated English masses. And besides, who wants to eat desi food in a formal environment in which you are frightened of using your hands in case some michelin starred French epicurean is offended or some famous actor or director or artist is distracted from their monkfish sizzled in a Keralan style cumin sauce? Forget it. If I want Indian food outside the pleasures of my mother’s kitchen I go to Wembley for Gujarati eats and Southall for the Punjabi. And remember, if it does not have at least one haldi stain on the menu, the food’s not good for enjoying.
i’m lucky to live less than 1 mile from ATL’s best indian veggie restaurant Madras Saravana Bhavan… both North and S. Indian dishes (where else can you get pau bhaji dosa? :)) and fantastic falooda… simple decor, always croweded..service sucks..but you can’t ask for everything now, can you?
london…wembley has Sakoni’s…the place where we always go to get some maru na bhajia and mogo…
dc-went to the bombay club..not bad fare.. and lots of ‘political’ big wigs are regular patrons..secret service agents are the norm….. i went over 6 years ago, so don’t know if the food has changed…
but nothing can beat six lumps of chicken in tomato ketchup infused with masala and onions and served up as authentic Indian cuisine for the inebriated English masses.
I kinda like the Chicken Tikka Masala. The desi food in England is far superior to the desi food in US. I did not however see a lot of Desi vegetarian restaurants in England. So maybe the Desi vegetarian food is better in the US?
The chicken tikka masala style of British Indian food is like chop suey is to Chinese cuisine – a dish invented and standardised for the masses. It’s what it is, unpretentious, with only a tangential relationship to authentic Indian cuisine. Remember, English people love nothing better than drinking lots of beer and soaking it up with a nice and spicy plate of curry – subtlety is not what is important.
However, joking apart, outside the local restaurants which offer good homestyle food in Wembley/Southall there are a real variety of innovative and excellent Indian restaurants offering regional cuisines these days. I recently went to a Parsi restaurant in Highgate, and there are even a couple of Indian restaurants that have michelin stars in London.
f you don’t need to be ritzy, there’s Shalimar in SF, makes me homesick for Nizam’s in Kolkata.
This is the restaurant I visited last month – check out the menu —- mouthwatering stuff. I had never eaten Parsi cuisine before.
Southall has a few holes in the wall which would put most Indian restaurant in NYC to shame. Punjab Karahi and Lahore Karahi kick ass. Very heavy, rich food, and not cheap when converted to dollar terms, but probably better even than a lot of places in India for that matter.
Anna, It is unfair that you have rated your dining experience as bad. I have neither been to Tandoori Nights, nor do I know Neal Miglani. But, I have been through their comprehensive website for ten minutes and would like to pledge my support to a concept that is sometimes hard to understand. Tandoori Nights is not merely a restaurant; it’s an authentic representation of a way of life. Every restaurateur dreams of making money, but, the truly devoted restaurateur transcends being a mere gourmet counting money, and attempts to cultivate a higher level of appreciation that includes the lifestyle, the philosophy, and the culture, along with the food of a region. Thus, in such a well-rounded dining experience, the role of food is bigger than merely being a stimulant to the palate. Here, food is expected to convey a gamut of emotions that will encourage the diner to think, and think big indeed. Also, the people you interacted with are not mere waiters; these are artists with specific roles and responsibilities. With their behaviour, they are trying to make your experience as authentic as possible. Now, trying to replicate the precise ambience of say, Mohan’s Tea Corner, where you find your tea served with the odd finger dipped in it, is well nigh impossible due to the existing FDA regulations. But, fortunately, there are aspects in the behaviour of waiters that are not regulated by the narrow-minded and autocratic FDA’s hegemony. In my neutral opinion, the proprietors of Tandoori Nights have shown courage under tremendous adversity to steadfastly hold on to their beliefs and deliver a service that is wholesome in the sum of its parts. The trivial consequence that customers like you are not qualified enough to appreciate this desi variant of haute cuisine is a mere aberration in an otherwise pleasant tandoor. By denying them your custom in the future, you will be limiting yourself to “tasty”, “clean”, “normal” food, which will leave you happy and fulfilled, but, will never provide you with a truly wholesome and adventurous experience.
Peace
I want to open a restaurant in London replicating the authentic Punjabi dhaba experience. The restaurant will be called ‘GT Road da Dhaba’ and food will be served with an occasional fly in the dhal for added authenticity. I will also employ a couple of stout Punjabis from Southall to sit on a table playing cards and drinking desi daroo and muttering curses (paaandi….maaadi) under their breath.
A michelen star awaits me for sure.
I agree that Madaras Palace is one of the the best South Indian places around the DC area, but Udupi Palace in Takoma Park is almost equally as good. Both are far better than Amma’s.
Just to be clear– I will GLADLY deal with shitty service if it means the food is excellent. I just think that if the decor is going to be THAT spectacular, it might be wise to check on the damned food. And our busboy was white as snow, while our waiter was of indeterminable, potentially brown heritage. The only thing that makes me think he might be desi (since I thought it odd that he couldn’t explain the food) is the fact that he was wearing colored contacts, bollywood-ishtyle.
I think the majority of the waiters there were non-desi, now that I think about it. That’s part of why it was astonishing that the experience was so bad. I’m not an idiot, I know that Uncles and grumpy people from back home are going to grunt at you and not be nice and to be honest with you, I find that slightly endearing. I just think it’s odd and kind of unacceptable that everyone looked as if they worked at Bertucci’s or Cheesecake Factory (both practically next door) where NONE of this shit would fly. What, because it’s an Indian restaurant, it can get away with that? Hell no.
Anna:
Nice Post, and I agree. I have been frequenting the market common a lot recently, and about a month ago, a few of us ventured over to Tandoori Nights for some drinks. The service was pompous, and the drinks a bit too expensive for being out of the district and far from any real nightlife corridor. The decor is of course beatuiful, but not enough to make up for what Tandoori Nights lacks.
Re Indian restaurants in DC, Heritage, the one on Wisconsin, not Dupont, is my perennial favorite, and I love some of the art they have up, especially the aunti with the diya, but the service can be a bit spotty. Rasika is definitely nice, but outside of their unique and yummy palak chat, and the very nice paneer appetizers, I think the vegetarian items are really lacking.
Some other cool spots– Nirvana, which is downtown has great regional fare, and it features a buffet of different regional Indian cuisince every day. Indique is tasty (but again the service is really, really bad) and I still like Aditi and Amma in Georgetown.
1) You can’t order in Malayalam AND get a good dose of guilt for not stopping by in a while at either of the two places you favor. However, at Amma… 😉
2) Um, Amma is STILL closer if you live in Clarendon, Rosslyn, Gtown, Foggy Kundi, West End, etc. When I was a homesick, automobile-free grad student at GW, I walked to Amma’s every day. THAT is money.
3) I’ve never heard of a brown restaurant in Takoma Park, but I tried to WMATA trip planner Udupi Palace’s address and it gave me a TWO-HOUR trip to go in one direction, i.e. 40 minutes on the metro, a 30 minute wait for a bus and then an hour long trip on the F8. Are you kidding me with this shit? Again, the reason why this restaurant I reviewed was extra significant (besides the fact that I desperately wanted to have a meetup either outside on the pretty patio or in the lounge) was because you can practically SEE the metro stop from said patio.
What? You don’t favor the frat-tastic asshole-masphere at Whitlow’s? 😉
Thank you for stating this, I was remiss in not doing so. I actually had SHITTY food at the Dupont outpost the one and only and last time I will ever go there. Sleeker, more cohesive decorating scheme but FTS if it means that I won’t get the dal makhani I lowe. Glover Park all the way, baby.
That painting is GORGEOUS and perfectly lit, no?
First of all, I think that very same Palak Chat Salad, which YOU introduced me to at my birthday dinner is reason enough to go there. 😉 I’ve never had anything like it, ever. It’s extraordinary. Second, the bhindi is outstanding and they over season everything with curry leaves; that’s Malayalee heaven, yo. 😀 One of the appetizers was equally excellent, can’t remember its name. I HEART RASIKA.
Will have to try it. Not that I have high hopes. I am a picky, picky curmudgeon, I tell you. 😀
Okay, I didn’t have huge problems with the service and I thought the presentation of my appetizer was very nice, but I don’t like that upstairs space. It feels…dirty. And my entree was GARBAGE. I ended up ordering a second appetizer just like the one pictured. My friend’s fish dish was sub-par according to him. The tamarind martini was okay, if a little syrupy and low on actual tequila. It was my first “attempt” at celebrating my birthday and they did nothing to recognize it, not that I want the cheesey waiter chorus or anything. I just think what Rasika did was so fun, it was unexpected, unrequested, perfect…and that kulfi was excellent.
So it was very “eh”, very hit or miss. In short, I’d go there again, but only to get tipsy with that ONE appetizer. It’s also a neighborhood I’m almost never in…which is why in almost six months, I haven’t been back for seconds.
Word. Not that I’ve ever tried big brother Aditi. Can you believe it? Only Amma, after all these years. 🙂
couchOAKTREEROADcough oh i’m sorry, totally high pollen counts today.
in-between World Cup feting and jotting down neck measurements for a noose i’m making for myself, i blogged briefly about a Bombay Chaat House experience.
also, forget about decor, menus, FDA compliance or samosa turgidity. head STRAIGHT to the bathroom and check for:
1) garbage: flip-can (no need to EVER touch that nasty canister- phew!) or open-mouthed (sweet — I LOVE playing ‘guess what I did with this paper-towel!’) 2) napkins: pull-roll (acceptable, mainstream), paper-towel (professional grade) (decent, but please don’t run out), paper-towel (Bounty-style) (i expected this after being served water in FOAM CUPS, so it’s all good) 3) soap: dispenser – the thick, nice goopy liquid (acceptable, mainstream), bar: Mmm, just like my SHOWER – maybe it’s been rubbed up and down someone’s ass AS WELL), none: i expected this after finding a FISH EYEBALL in my soup (korean restaurant experience)
Does anyone know if the Tamarind in NYC has any thing to do with the Tamarind in London?
I love cafe Spice’s samosas. they are so mush to break into.
I can talk about any indian restaurant in NYC or jersey area. After having tried everything from uptown to the village, i say the best DM is at minar, too bad you cant sit there and enjoy as it is more of a take out place and their Chicken makhani is to die for. I tried the new kid on the block, YUVA at little india(that one block has like 6 nice restaurants. Their assortment of chutneys, WOW! Also, I tried Leela Lounge (from one of the posts here at SM). It is OK, not too shabby. But ofcourse they had a a jewish engagement party going on at the time
I wish i got paid to reviews of these restaurants only desi ones tho. It’ll make my financial situation a little better. Or may be i can stop visiting……not
oh HEINOUS! It’s experiences like yours, ANNA, that have scared me from recklessly sampling the desi restaurants here in the mile-high hill station. I had one bad experience already– dosa and utthapam are different, they should look different on my plate, hint hint– and I’m reluctant to seek out many more. Ironically, I’ve been told the best veg dinner in town is at the ISKON cantina. Tamarind, oh Tamarind, how I miss thee 😉
Who are you, really, UberMetroMallu??? Johnny Swift??? 😉
I’m contemplating Rasika for dinner since I’ve heard good things about it here and from friends. I’d have to agree with the general consensus here, that good Indian dining options in the DC area are still pretty hard to come by. I’ve wondered why that is… I’ve tried the Heritage Indias, Amma/Aditi, Indique, etc etc, but nothing has really blown me away. Instead we have a few steadily reliable establishments where I can get my Indian food fix, but I come with zero or low expectations. Being a NoVA resident, regular pilgrimage to Langley Park for the Udupi or Woodlands weekend buffet is too much. The few places I’ve tried in NoVA are spotty at best. (Just had the worst rava masala dosa yesterday from the newly redesigned Amma’s in Vienna/Tysons. Nice decor, crappy food.)
I still swear by Minerva’s in Fairfax, but even there the experience is highly unpredictable. I went one time with a craving for their amazing chili chicken and gobu manchurian… only to find out the chef who specializes in the Indo-Chinese dishes was out for the day, and noone else could make those dishes. Damn.
The search for mind-blowing Indian food in the DC metro area, will continue…
Being an avid foodie, I have been so disappointed with the americanized version of Indian food served in the so called desi restaurants. Been to ammas, minerva etc in the the DC/NoVA area. I would be lying if I said I loved the food. Only on a relative ordinal scale one betters the other.
The solution: I learned to cook.
The search for mind-blowing Indian food in the DC metro area, will continue…
I second that. I found Ethiopian food to be more to my liking than the Indian restaurants in that area. Minerva is high on the list though.
And the best South Indian food in the US? No, it’s not NYC. Bay Area is the place to go. From spice hut to Komala Vilas and Saravana Bhavan, all bases are covered. Of course, if you aren’t a FOB, you will be wondering why spice hut and komalavilas are on this list.
Prashanth:
What do you do for a living that enables you to go to Madras six/seven times a year? I am jealous—wish I had a job a like that.
Ennis, didn’t we just eat @ Saravana Bhavan in NYC?
Anna, did you eat @ Saravana Bhavan or @ Saravanaas? Saravanaas is good; Saravana Bhavan is not.
We ate at the one I had to say Good-bye to you in front of, at SAWCC. 🙁 I was so hungover from wedding-created debauchery, I couldn’t taste anything, so we won’t be able to tell by THAT.
That is so confusing…similarly named yet one is teh suck.
‘kay, then you ate at Saravanaas (which is officially my favorite desi restaurant in NYC). People have often confused Saravana Bhavan with Saravanaas and come home very disappointed.
Ethiopian dishes are SO much like Indian ones, right down to the daal. I love their food, I just can’t stand that sour bread (injera?) of theirs. Now, if you could BYON (bring your own naan) that would be perfect.
I’m sure you’ll be SHOCKED to learn that I, the picky mutineer, feel the same way. Well, that and it always reminded me of an Ace bandage, it’s the oddest thing.
Isn’t it more like stale dosa?
thick soggy dosa?
all the better for your carb coma, my dears.
I’m finding the hating on the Injera baffling. But I think I know why — maybe it’s because you all (Amitabh, Anna and DDIG) are vegetarian ? Because when it comes to bread to accompany meat-in-gravy, nothing beats the Injera (except perhaps the Appam).
I’d rather have (extra sour) San Francisco-ishtyle Sourdough Bread, anytime. 🙂 When I’m desperate for Indian food but unable to cook or find a decent restaurant (ahem), I’ll dump out my super-precious Kadukku Manga pickle and eat it with that. Solid. Sometimes, I’ll even eat SDB with this, though it’s tricky. And when I’m feeling exceptionally fierce I mix the Kadukku Manga AND the samanthi. Awesome.
There’s an aloo curry my mom makes which is identical to some satanically spicy meen curry (substitute potato for the fish, use coconut oil, fierce red chili powder, that pulli which is curly and solid, plus curry leaves…and that’s it) which I prefer to eat with regular old-bread. It’s too runny to really enjoy with chapathi and I don’t eat puri that often. I’ll eat bread over rice any day. Damn. Now I’m homesick. Sigh. That’s one curry I haven’t mastered, I don’t think I roast the chili powder properly and if you don’t do that…
Ashvin,
May I add idli to the list of “good with meat-in-gravy”? And Kerala Parota?
My absolute favourite though is egg dosa(the thick and soft version).. which, alas, doesn’t seem to be even available in any place other than some pockets of TN or alternatively, in my house. 🙂
Even with the thick crust ?
That would be tricky 🙂
Yes, my first encounter with idli with meat-in-gravy made me see idli in a completely new and positive light. Still, it doesn’t come close to Injera though. Is Kerala Parota also called “Ceylon Parota” ?
I can believe that— it sounds pretty similar to Injera.