The only other Indian food I have ever had was from Nawab, a local chain. I like the chicken Masala, the naan, and whatever the green tomato stuff you dip your bread in is. Or maybe only I dip my bread in it and its actually supposed to be for something else. You know, it might not be tomato-based after all. Hell, it might be a dessert for all I know... Look, I'm getting off topic and it's not important, anyway.
What can I say about the place? Well, it's in a great corner location and it's very clean, beautiful, tastefully decorated, relaxing, and almost completely devoid of customers.
Uh oh.
Now, there were a couple of other folks there, but the visible wait staff outnumbered the customer-occupied tables about eight to one, easily. You would think that they would have descended upon us like lightning, grateful for something... anything, to do.
But no.
How do I word this? They weren't eager to seat us, but they didn't give off a vibe like we were bothering them, either. They weren't rude... quite the opposite, in fact.
Picture a restaurant that is not a restaurant at all, but, in fact, a movie set. The staff is not made up of waiters and waitresses and busboys, but actors all playing their parts. You walk in, expecting food. Now, they are not allowed, for whatever reason, to break character and just shoo you away so they are forced to do something.... Panicking and lacking options, they choose a representative to imitate a slightly chloroformed Arte-Johnson-based Renfield and eventually come to take your order.
As awkward and crummy this analogy is, it's apt.
The unblinking waiter-or-possibly-alien that glacially shuffled on over to exceedingly politely help us with our drinks selection paused for about one and a half seconds longer than is customary between our responses and his acknowledgment of them. It gave the impression that he was uncontrollably drifting into elaborate daydream sequences every few seconds and the surprising noises coming from in front of him that sounded like "Pepsi" or "water with lemon" were snapping him back into reality.
You might argue that the delay due to some kind of language barrier issue. No. I know what that is like and this wasn't it. This was more like we were talking to him live via satellite or something.
We finished making our selection and he resignedly allowed himself to be pushed toward the drinks station through the majestic mechanics of plate tectonics and several decades later he or possibly his grandson returned with our beverages. He then deigned to take our food order then he shuffled back off at a velocity normally associated with someone repeatedly slurring “brains... brrraaaaiiinnnnss”.
I assume at that point at least one of the dozens of "movie extras" that were standing around silently staring into the middle distance was able to break off from the group, post an Indian Food Chef Wanted notice on Monster.com, interview several hopeful candidates, hire someone, then put our order in because, much to our delight and amazement, the food eventually came.
I got the tandoori wings and the wife got the chicken masala. The flavor of both dishes was fine. In a blindfolded taste test, though, I would only be able to tell the difference between the two dishes because mine had more bones in it.
Maybe they delivered the wrong thing. I don't have a lot of experience with Indian food but I am highly suspecting that it is non-exotic in the same way Mexican food is. That is, do the same five or so ingredients go into everything so each slightly different combination is technically christened a new menu item?
Don't bother rolling your eyes and saying in what I picture is a cartoon-y Jeeves the Butler accented admonishment "(scoff, scoff) Dear boy, you are talking about Americanized foreign food. The reeeeaaaahhhhllll stuff is ever soooooo much better. Nothing beats eating fresh curried chicken while punting on the Ganges, you know..." (polishes monocle, rides off on polo pony)" Yeah, maybe but guess what? I'm here, not there. This is what is realistic for me to do and is what I have as a baseline so leave me alone, imaginary snooty British guy.
We ate and after a spell grew tired of waiting for the server to return. After getting up, walking around the restaurant and discovering a gaggle of surprised and not a little nervous "waiters" holed up in a corner I asked for the check and one of them went to get it. Eventually we were allowed to pay. I didn't tip because, frankly, I am not sure they would have known what to do with Earth-money anyway – the gesture would have been lost on them and possibly even frightened them.
Later, I had time to look up reviews of the place and they all said basically the same thing: "nice atmosphere, ok food, really slow service, go to Nawab instead".
Yes, yes, yes, and will do.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment