I barely had a chance to hang up the phone before racing out the door to join the lunch crowd. I made it to the Taste of Tandoor in record time and found the setting to be spare, but enchanting. I was greeted by a somewhat puzzled waiter, who directed me to a booth near the door. It is now that I should tell you that I don’t make a practice of dining at restaurants alone, and it did feel odd to be sitting across from no one. Normally I would be enjoying a romantic bohemian experience with my boyfriend* — we’ve made it a sort of tradition to grab Indian food whenever we can. So I felt torn — I missed his company, but wanted the Indian food… very badly. Although they were serving a buffet for lunch, I went ahead and asked for a menu. I decided to do it up right, since I had come all this way.
I think that since I was a party of one, the waiters and staff may have thought that I was a restaurant critic, because they were very attentive and offered to make selections for me and pushed the buffet items as well as specific sauces on the menu. I started out with a vegetale samosa and the mulligtawny soup, followed by rogan josh and some naan (with the usual basmati rice pilau). The waiter kept telling me I could sample anything off the buffet if I wanted, but I declined, because I didn’t want to seem greedy. They brought me samples of the tandoori chicken anyway.
The vegetable samosas were arranged on a bed of shredded lettuce and carrots, looking like two festive pyramids in a mirage of deliciousness. They were crisp on the outside and perfect on the inside. They were possibly the best I’ve had… or at least the best I can remember. The soup was piping hot and smooth… I could have eaten several more bowls of it, but I wanted to pace myself. It tasted very fresh and the flavor was superb… my only qualm was that I like a little more texture to it, but that complaint is minor compared to the pleasure it brought me. After I had slowly enjoyed my appetizer and soup, they asked my permission to bring out the entree. I was presented with a healthy portion of rogan josh and rice pilau and naan on demand — I swear if I would have eaten it right from the oven it wouldn’t have tasted any fresher. (I’m getting light-headed just thinking about it.) The entree was just what I was looking for, medium heat and saucy. Saucy. I think I have to stop talking about it, because I may cause myself to go into a frenzy again. But I will say that there’s possibly nothing better than rogan josh. I fell in love with it. I dare say that I would marry it, but since you can’t really marry lamb in curry sauce (damn those conservatives!), I had a flash of genius: If someday I should have a son, I will name him Rogan Josh. That’s how much I liked this lunch.
As I finished my meal, the manager came out to make sure the experience was a good one. Indeed it was. Of course, I was tempted to launch into my story of obsessive behavior, but I wanted to preserve my chances of being allowed back in, so I exercised self-restraint. I asked for the remainder of my food to be boxed up and also a carry-out menu. They gladly obliged and the waiter (I didn’t catch his name) said that I could order ahead of time whenever I wanted “to easily save time”.
I took my menu and bag of food and slipped out of the restaurant and into the parking lot feeling like an undercover operative. I don’t think any of the staff or customers ever suspected that I was a stark-raving mad lunatic in the pursuit of Indian food… of course, maybe that’s because they all were too.
Anyway, I have a whole other meal out of this escapade just waiting for me in the refrigerator… so, until next time…
(*Note: I will be expanding on this comment in a later entry, where we find the root of my Indian food obsession.)
