A few weeks ago we were in North Jersey, and went with friends to a new restaurant called “Hot Breads,” in Parsippany. I thought the idea of a cafe style restaurant along these lines was great, and I immediately thought, “hey, someone should open one of these down in Philadelphia!” When I got home, I hit Google, and discovered there are already two within 20 miles of my house, not to mention numerous franchises in California, Georgia, Maryland, Illinois, New York, Texas, and Virginia. [UPDATE: Abhi also gave his own take on this place two years ago, in this SM post]

Hot Breads specializes in stuffed croissants (tandoori chicken, paneer, etc.), but also offers a menu of other light foods (wraps, chaat, desi-style pizza) as well as dessert pastries. (See a typical menu here [PDF].) The format itself is a nice change from a typical Indian restaurant — with the year-round Christmas lights and sometimes shoddy service.

After the Parsippany experience, we went to the one in Lansdale/North Wales, and liked it even better. I particularly liked the Dabeli, a kind of Gujarati version of Vada Pav. I also found my Chicken Tikka wrap quite satisfying, and the chutney free version of the “Bombay Sandwich” we got for Puran was also good. We got stuffed Croissants to go, though perhaps they suffered a bit by being not quite as fresh when we actually ate them the next day. Next time, I’ll be curious to try the “Alu Chilli Pizza” — or perhaps the “Pav Bhaji Pizza.”

Oh, and everything tastes better with Limca!

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Italy is waking up to the fact that some of its best chefs are not Italian which is seen by some as a national crisis. In a recent list of the best restaurants in Rome:

… second place was L’Arcangelo, a restaurant with a head chef from India. The winner: Antico Forno Roscioli, a bakery and innovative restaurant whose chef, Nabil Hadj Hassen, arrived from Tunisia at 17 [Link]

Foreign chefs are so widespread that even at one of the most traditional restaurants in the capital, 70% of the chefs are of non-Italian origin. Many Italians feel that food, like culture, has to be transmitted from Italian to Italian, and therefore see these changes as threatening.

Meanwhile, on this side of the Atlantic, one of the hottest tickets for Saturday’s first Passover Seder is Floyd Cardoz’s (non-Kosher) version of the traditional Passover meal:

Floyd Cardoz’s Indian take on gefilte fish needs no help from horseradish. It is a Kerala-style striped bass patty steamed in a banana leaf with a nice dose of spice on its own; mellow roasted beet salad is served alongside, bottom center… The choices are: excellent herbed chicken soup with a fluffy matzo ball seasoned with fenugreek ($16), banana leaf fish patties ($28), beet salad ($16), chicken tikka ($24, top left) and brisket spiced with ginger and chilies ($34), all in portions to serve two. [Link]

This isn’t just passover food, the whole religious service will be held at the restaurant with all the guests to the seder eating family style.

Clearly the cosmopolitans get to eat much better than the nativists. Game, set match.

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A friend of mine emailed me this photograph of a mini-dosa from a desi restaurant’s lunch buffet in Davis Square:

It’s not the size of the dosa that counts, it’s the flavour of the filling

From a restauranteur’s perspective, this innovation makes perfect sense. You can’t serve everybody a dosa, it’s too large. And you can’t serve dosa slices either. Enter the mini-dosa, everybody gets dosaed, the restaurant has less waste, everybody goes home happy right?

And while we’re on the topic of alternadosas, how about totally American fillings like “Grilled Chicken with Goat Cheese, Spinach and Roasted Tomatoes” or “Tuna with Cilantro Chutney Dressing, Avacado, Arugala & Tomato“?

Are these reasonable innovations or travesties wrought by American commerce on the fine traditions of Madrasi South Indian cooking? In other words, is it a shanda like the bagel stick with the cream cheese inside, AKA the bagel Twinkie?

Ever toast, spread cream cheese on, and eat a bagel, and be like, damn, this is taking too long? Kraft’s Bagelfuls, essentially, a bagel Twinkie, are for you. A “Bagelful” is a frozen bagel tube with cream cheese inside. They’re kept in the refrigerator and then toasted, microwaved, or even eaten straight from the box. [Link]

How do we tell when a departure from beloved tradition is actually progress?

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Through a post on the News Tab (thanks Bobby32), I came across an interesting “local food tourism” piece in the New York Times, featuring Krishnendu Ray, a Professor of Food Studies at NYU (can anyone think of a better discipline to be in? I can’t).

Professor Ray is the author of an intriguing-looking book called The Migrant’s Table: Meals and Memories in Bengali-American Households.

The Times has the cerebral Prof. Ray go on a tour of a series of very different Desi restaurants around New York City, beginning with high-end fusion food in Manhattan (Angon), passing through Jackson Diner (a cross-over favorite), stopping by the Ganesh Temple Canteen in Flushing (intriguing choice), and ending at a working class place in Brooklyn called Pakiza.

Ray’s comments are really intriguing. First there is a general, theoretical comment about the function of the Desi restaurant as a space of cross-cultural interaction in American cities:

“The immigrant body is a displaced body — it reveals its habits much more than a body at home, because you can see the social friction,” Mr. Ray said. “The ethnic restaurant is one of the few places where the native and the immigrant interact substantively in our society.”

Interesting — and possibly true. (Thoughts?) I think what Ray is getting at here is the fact that how we eat is both more intimate and harder to conceal than other aspects of cultural difference. In many other spheres, adaptation and mimicry can be pretty straightforward: you buy a certain kind of suit and shoes, and fit in at a workplace or school, more or less. But eating is closer to home, and the Indian restaurant in particular is a space where “old habits” (like, say, eating with one’s hands) can come out safely. But, as Ray also points out, the rules are somewhat different when the Indian restaurant in question has a mix of Desi and non-Desi patrons.

On $6 for a tiny, pyramid-shaped mound of Bhel Puri at Devi, Ray says:

“We like this very clever insider joke,” Mr. Ray continued. “We are taking something cheap and from the street, and reducing the quantity, turning it into a pyramid, putting it on a big plate, and all these white guys are paying 20 bucks for it.” (link)

Heh. His bewilderment at the idea of veal at a restaurant named “Devi,” as well as at the ingenious preposterousness of “Masala Schnitzel” is also worth a look. I also agree with him about the greatness of Saravanaas, on Lexington Avenue, and on a few other things as well. Continue reading →

Preston says that I carry a teabag everywhere the way a teenage boy carries a condom. I disagree, as (I presume) teenage boys carry condoms with hope, and I don’t actually want to use the emergency teabag stowed in the change pocket of my wallet. Yes, there is such a thing as a tea emergency—the moment when only black Sri Lankan tea (with milk, one sugar) will make me happy. But I have had no such emergencies in Malaysia, as the tea here (teh tarik, as my preferred version of it is called) tastes like tea in a Sri Lankan home. (Teh tarik is “pulled tea,” according to one of our guidebooks. When I read what that meant, I realized that it’s what I know in Tamil as “athefining.” Pardon the poor transliteration.) Made with condensed milk and mixed by being poured from one vessel to another, it’s fantastically refreshing.

But before tea: food. And here Malaysia outdoes almost every other country I’ve visited. At the open-air food court nearest our hotel, Nasi Kandar Pelita, the cash registers feature a line-up of complimentary meal-enders: vitamin drops of various fruited flavors. The emptiest bin, however, is the one farthest to the left—antacids! The food is well worth the gastronomical price, and worth much more than its actual price. Continue reading →