Flavor of India

 

5

26

Craig K.

Plainsboro, NJ

3/21/2006

Walking into this establishment you might think you've stepped into late-period Satyajit Ray, but as soon as the waiter/steward opens his mouth it's clear that you are, in fact, caught in mid-period Jacques Tati.  The chicken makhni's pretty good, but the garlic naan is a disaster: you're hustling a bad shell-game when you think the customer can't tell the difference between garlic and a goddamned onion.  

("Here's the moon.  Okay, now here's sixpence.")

The first time I came here to eat, a fat white man, strangely trying to impress the woman who was presumably his daughter (and who was old and smart-looking enough to be embarrassed), yelled over to the steward: "Is the chef in a good mood today?" before emitting a sustained chortle.

That's odd, I thought.  Then I read the following on http://chefmoz.org:

"One saturday myself and my daughter [apparently different diners than above] went for the buffet. My daughter is 13 years old. She accidentally spilled a few teaspoons of curry on the table cloth. The owner (the short man with turban) came to our table and told us that we don't know how to eat at restaurants, and we should pay to get the table cloth cleaned."

Isn't that reason enough to check this place out?  (Before Chapter 11, of course.)

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