I've been hearing about this restaurant for more than a decade. A colleague moved to the area and India House practically achieved speed-dial status in the first month. She rated Indian food on the Sirtaj scale, so I figured that India House must be good. Recently I had a chance to find out for myself, when I made plans to take lunch to a friend and former colleague in the area, who was at home with a newborn.
Takeout lunch seemed kind of pricey, until I started unpacking the bag and discovered that two entrees with rice, bread and relishes could easily be enough to feed four or more enthusiastic diners.
When I ordered tikka masala, I flashed back to the days of ordering from Sirtaj, when there always seemed to be the voice of ... ahem ... a colleague, screaming in the background: "Tell them to make sure the white meat is juicy!" I "should of" done that. The dish was tasty, but the chicken was dry. The flavorful and mildly spicy red sauce helped a bit.
Channa saag -- chickpeas and spinach -- was the star: spicy, creamy, complex, topped with fresh cilantro and julienned fresh ginger. Very, very good.
The entrees came with a huge container of fragrant yellow rice and a couple of tangy relishes, including a brown sauce with an acidic zing. I ordered a side of raita, in case there was any fire to be put out with the nice, creamy blend of yogurt and chopped cucumbers, with a hint of mint and cilantro. And a side of dal seems practically mandatory for an Indian meal. It was ok, very thin, almost sauce consistency.
Two stuffed breads, onion kulcha (stuffed, appropriately enough, with onions, cilantro and spices) and keema nan (stuffed with ground lamb) completed the meal. We hardly put a dent in the bagful of goodies.
I'd like to check out India House again, maybe with a group, to sample more dishes. I suppose the lunch buffet would be a way to do that, or maybe I'll just pick up another bag of takeout when I go to visit the other new baby boy in northern Westchester.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
Brasserie Ruhlmann, Rockefeller Center
Here's an elegant destination that really does it right.
The Lady in Red invited me to Brasserie Ruhlmann for dinner, chat and music. She wasn't there when I arrived, but the maitre d' could not have been more welcoming. He made me comfortable at a nice table near the music and personally delivered a cup of tea. In the few minutes it took for my companion to arrive, at least two other people checked in to see if I had everything I needed.
It's a beautiful setting reflecting the timeless beauty of Art Deco: dark paneled walls with inlaid designs, warm colors with a rich, elegant feel. A perfect place to enjoy champagne and potato chips (Marilyn's meal of choice in Seven-Year Itch, though I don't believe hers were home-made, as they are at Brasserie Ruhlmann), and nibble on tuna tartare and oysters on the half shell.
The service was friendly and efficient, I couldn't find fault with it, even after mentally running through the litany of complaints I've heard from my nearests and dearests.
As someone who has enjoyed wine by the glass everywhere from the Lower East Side to the Delaware Water Gap, I found Ruhlmann's list very interesting, varied and fairly priced. I've seen lower-quality wines offered at higher prices in Twin Falls, Idaho.
The women's room was very nice, with three shallow (but non-splashing) sinks scooped from a single slab of Absolute Black granite.
Brasserie Ruhlmann is an elegant place to relax with a drink and a snack in Midtown. Though it has a special-occasion feel, the prices are not stratospheric -- especially for the neighborhood -- and the atmosphere and service alone are priceless.
The Lady in Red invited me to Brasserie Ruhlmann for dinner, chat and music. She wasn't there when I arrived, but the maitre d' could not have been more welcoming. He made me comfortable at a nice table near the music and personally delivered a cup of tea. In the few minutes it took for my companion to arrive, at least two other people checked in to see if I had everything I needed.
It's a beautiful setting reflecting the timeless beauty of Art Deco: dark paneled walls with inlaid designs, warm colors with a rich, elegant feel. A perfect place to enjoy champagne and potato chips (Marilyn's meal of choice in Seven-Year Itch, though I don't believe hers were home-made, as they are at Brasserie Ruhlmann), and nibble on tuna tartare and oysters on the half shell.
The service was friendly and efficient, I couldn't find fault with it, even after mentally running through the litany of complaints I've heard from my nearests and dearests.
As someone who has enjoyed wine by the glass everywhere from the Lower East Side to the Delaware Water Gap, I found Ruhlmann's list very interesting, varied and fairly priced. I've seen lower-quality wines offered at higher prices in Twin Falls, Idaho.
The women's room was very nice, with three shallow (but non-splashing) sinks scooped from a single slab of Absolute Black granite.
Brasserie Ruhlmann is an elegant place to relax with a drink and a snack in Midtown. Though it has a special-occasion feel, the prices are not stratospheric -- especially for the neighborhood -- and the atmosphere and service alone are priceless.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Beyoglu, 81st and Third, UES
This may be my new fave place to eat in Manhattan, especially during off hours or when weather permits outdoor dining. I've been there three times in less than a year and the food has been great each time. The decor is nice, but the volume is unbearable inside when it's crowded. It's impossible to talk, and that's one of the main reasons I go to restaurants.
We ate outside on a nice spring day, which made conversation manageable, though we occasionally had to pause for street noise. We shared the vegetarian plate and a shepherd's salad. The veg plate consists of six or eight appetizers: hummus, baba ganoush, couscous, a spicy pepper and eggplant dish, spinach, thick and creamy yogurt, stuffed grape leaves, I think I'm forgetting something. The dish is garnished with olives, tomatoes and lemon wedges, and is served with a small loaf of round, chewy bread. It's divine. Such a nice balance of flavors and textures. It seemed like a vast amount of food, I'm sure we each had three or more helpings.
The shepherd's salad contained diced tomatoes, bell peppers, cucumbers, and red onions, with a mild oil and vinegar dressing with a bit of dill and mint. Again, a nice balance of flavors. Strong-flavored ingredients like dill and red onion can be overpowering if not added with a light hand, as they were in this case. Everything was crunchy and super fresh, it tasted made to order.
For dessert we had pistachio baklava, the top layers were flaky and crisp, the bottom layers honey soaked. Lots of nuts, too. Very rich and decadent. The decaf cappuccino was delicious.
The rest room is nice and clean, with good lighting. There's a table for your purse, bag, whatever. The room could use a coat hook.
Though Beyoglu was fairly busy, we didn't feel any time pressure. Service was good, not intrusive. We sat and noshed and chatted for ... almost four hours. That may be a new record. The food and the weather were conducive to relaxing, taking our time, nibbling, catching up, and no one on the wait staff did anything to discourage us, even after the bill was paid.
We ate outside on a nice spring day, which made conversation manageable, though we occasionally had to pause for street noise. We shared the vegetarian plate and a shepherd's salad. The veg plate consists of six or eight appetizers: hummus, baba ganoush, couscous, a spicy pepper and eggplant dish, spinach, thick and creamy yogurt, stuffed grape leaves, I think I'm forgetting something. The dish is garnished with olives, tomatoes and lemon wedges, and is served with a small loaf of round, chewy bread. It's divine. Such a nice balance of flavors and textures. It seemed like a vast amount of food, I'm sure we each had three or more helpings.
The shepherd's salad contained diced tomatoes, bell peppers, cucumbers, and red onions, with a mild oil and vinegar dressing with a bit of dill and mint. Again, a nice balance of flavors. Strong-flavored ingredients like dill and red onion can be overpowering if not added with a light hand, as they were in this case. Everything was crunchy and super fresh, it tasted made to order.
For dessert we had pistachio baklava, the top layers were flaky and crisp, the bottom layers honey soaked. Lots of nuts, too. Very rich and decadent. The decaf cappuccino was delicious.
The rest room is nice and clean, with good lighting. There's a table for your purse, bag, whatever. The room could use a coat hook.
Though Beyoglu was fairly busy, we didn't feel any time pressure. Service was good, not intrusive. We sat and noshed and chatted for ... almost four hours. That may be a new record. The food and the weather were conducive to relaxing, taking our time, nibbling, catching up, and no one on the wait staff did anything to discourage us, even after the bill was paid.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Wobble Cafe, Ossining
I have favorite breakfast places in locales such as Santa Fe, Seattle and even Buhl, Idaho. In Westchester? Nope. City Limits is noisy and pricey, the Star Diner has more misses than hits, El Dorado Diner is just a diner, I don't love it. In these cases, familiarity hasn't bred contempt, just boredom.
I sometimes entertain high hopes for the Wobble Cafe. I do like it, though it's kind of out of the way to be my steady hang. It's eccentric enough to be a contender for fave in the county, but not quite good enough to actually attain that status.
I went there on a whim on a wintery Sunday. It was cold inside, my companion didn't take off his cap or coat, and even kept his gloves on whenever possible. Service was spotty -- it took a while to get menus, drinks, everything. We were rarely able to get our waitress' attention and ended up asking one of the others if the wait staff pooled tips (they do), because several other people jumped in to fill the void left by our designated server.
The Wobble Cafe is a cute place, it has a counter with a handful of old-time stools you can spin around on, it you're so inclined, mismatched tables and chairs, and a kids' corner/waiting area with couches and crayons.
The food is pretty good. I always get migas: a scramble of corn tortillas, eggs, pinto beans, jalapenos and cheese, with either chorizo or mushrooms. I always want the chorizo but always get the mushrooms, that takes a bit of the guilt out of the rest of the cholesterol on the plate. There's a choice of home fries or fresh fruit. I almost always get the fruit, though the home fries are much better. It's nice to offer a lighter choice in lieu of spuds, but does it have to be under-ripe, out-of-season and tasteless?
My companion had pancakes with bacon, which rated a thumbs up.
The tea is excellent. There's an extensive choice, and it's served in a pot of steaming-hot water.
There's something about the place that makes it seem like a toy restaurant. The chilly temperature, the bumbling service, the limited menu, the good but not really good food, it doesn't feel professional. The Wobble has good qualities but they don't add up to a breakfast place that makes me want to go out of my way for just what the doctor ordered me not to eat.
I sometimes entertain high hopes for the Wobble Cafe. I do like it, though it's kind of out of the way to be my steady hang. It's eccentric enough to be a contender for fave in the county, but not quite good enough to actually attain that status.
I went there on a whim on a wintery Sunday. It was cold inside, my companion didn't take off his cap or coat, and even kept his gloves on whenever possible. Service was spotty -- it took a while to get menus, drinks, everything. We were rarely able to get our waitress' attention and ended up asking one of the others if the wait staff pooled tips (they do), because several other people jumped in to fill the void left by our designated server.
The Wobble Cafe is a cute place, it has a counter with a handful of old-time stools you can spin around on, it you're so inclined, mismatched tables and chairs, and a kids' corner/waiting area with couches and crayons.
The food is pretty good. I always get migas: a scramble of corn tortillas, eggs, pinto beans, jalapenos and cheese, with either chorizo or mushrooms. I always want the chorizo but always get the mushrooms, that takes a bit of the guilt out of the rest of the cholesterol on the plate. There's a choice of home fries or fresh fruit. I almost always get the fruit, though the home fries are much better. It's nice to offer a lighter choice in lieu of spuds, but does it have to be under-ripe, out-of-season and tasteless?
My companion had pancakes with bacon, which rated a thumbs up.
The tea is excellent. There's an extensive choice, and it's served in a pot of steaming-hot water.
There's something about the place that makes it seem like a toy restaurant. The chilly temperature, the bumbling service, the limited menu, the good but not really good food, it doesn't feel professional. The Wobble has good qualities but they don't add up to a breakfast place that makes me want to go out of my way for just what the doctor ordered me not to eat.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Masala Kraft Cafe, Hartsdale
A cafe so nice I had their food twice this week. I had noticed Masala Kraft a couple of times when I was in the neighborhood and when I wanted a noontime walk on a recent sunny day, I headed straight in that direction.
We shared a couple of really good dishes: aloo bhindi and a falafel sandwich. The first was the daily special, a nice and spicy combination of potatoes, okra and other veg, served with dal, rice and a buttery flatbread, lentil paratha. The veg were fresh and a little crisp, each with a distinct flavor and texture rather than stewed into an amorphous mass. Garnishes included fresh ginger and cilantro. Unlike some people, I'm a huge cilantro fan.
The sandwich was made with a chewy, pillowy whole-wheat pita stuffed with crisp, hot falafel, shredded iceberg lettuce, diced tomato, parsley, and cilantro, topped with tahini and a a mildly spicy yogurt sauce. I liked the combination of textures and temperatures. Another good choice.
Customers order at the counter, and a server brings food to the tables. The service is friendly and accommodating. After we sat down I remarked to my companion that I was going to want a glass of water. The server must have overheard me, as she delivered it to the table before I got around to asking for it.
The immaculate open kitchen contained about four people doing food prep ballet: cooking, wiping, plating, packing to-go orders, never seeming to get in one another's way.
Lunch for two, including a soda, cost about $20 and it seemed really reasonable.
Masala Kraft has the most interesting decor and beautiful dinnerware of any tiny mostly takeout place that I know of: Creamy ceramic tile on the floors and the walls up to a copper colored chair rail, heavily urethaned dark-wood tabletops with crackle-glazed gold-leaf centers, and comfy chairs. Even the ceiling is interesting: copper-colored pressed metal, surrounded by a lighting soffit. The pottery dinnerware has a nice heft and artisanal look: matte black, nonsymmetrical oval serving dishes and small, square plates, all with the cafe's name embossed in the stylized logo script.
I ordered takeout the next day, it was good, but I didn't enjoy it nearly as much. The daily special, a biryani dish with green beans, cauliflower, and other veg, was spicy hot and tasty, but not amazing. $12 seemed a little steep for a dish that was mostly rice, though it did come with raita and paratha.
Tasty chana bhatura, chickpeas in a spicy tomato onion sauce, too, seemed a bit pricey, about a one-cup serving for $8.50, served with puri.
I'd definitely go there again, but I'd be more likely to eat there and enjoy the food at its hottest, freshest point.
We shared a couple of really good dishes: aloo bhindi and a falafel sandwich. The first was the daily special, a nice and spicy combination of potatoes, okra and other veg, served with dal, rice and a buttery flatbread, lentil paratha. The veg were fresh and a little crisp, each with a distinct flavor and texture rather than stewed into an amorphous mass. Garnishes included fresh ginger and cilantro. Unlike some people, I'm a huge cilantro fan.
The sandwich was made with a chewy, pillowy whole-wheat pita stuffed with crisp, hot falafel, shredded iceberg lettuce, diced tomato, parsley, and cilantro, topped with tahini and a a mildly spicy yogurt sauce. I liked the combination of textures and temperatures. Another good choice.
Customers order at the counter, and a server brings food to the tables. The service is friendly and accommodating. After we sat down I remarked to my companion that I was going to want a glass of water. The server must have overheard me, as she delivered it to the table before I got around to asking for it.
The immaculate open kitchen contained about four people doing food prep ballet: cooking, wiping, plating, packing to-go orders, never seeming to get in one another's way.
Lunch for two, including a soda, cost about $20 and it seemed really reasonable.
Masala Kraft has the most interesting decor and beautiful dinnerware of any tiny mostly takeout place that I know of: Creamy ceramic tile on the floors and the walls up to a copper colored chair rail, heavily urethaned dark-wood tabletops with crackle-glazed gold-leaf centers, and comfy chairs. Even the ceiling is interesting: copper-colored pressed metal, surrounded by a lighting soffit. The pottery dinnerware has a nice heft and artisanal look: matte black, nonsymmetrical oval serving dishes and small, square plates, all with the cafe's name embossed in the stylized logo script.
I ordered takeout the next day, it was good, but I didn't enjoy it nearly as much. The daily special, a biryani dish with green beans, cauliflower, and other veg, was spicy hot and tasty, but not amazing. $12 seemed a little steep for a dish that was mostly rice, though it did come with raita and paratha.
Tasty chana bhatura, chickpeas in a spicy tomato onion sauce, too, seemed a bit pricey, about a one-cup serving for $8.50, served with puri.
I'd definitely go there again, but I'd be more likely to eat there and enjoy the food at its hottest, freshest point.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
42, White Plains
Ensconced on the 42nd floor of the Ritz-Carlton in downtown White Plains, 42 offers panoramic views from the Hudson River to Long Island Sound. It's a surprisingly interesting sight, from our secluded table in a hallway outside the main dining room during restaurant week.
Several tables were set up in the hall between the elevator and the main dining room -- we were tucked into a deuce between a party of 10 or so and a table of six. Besides the view, the decor in the area consisted of a gleaming vintage meat slicer, a gift to the chef.
The location felt kind of like sitting at the kids' table at a family holiday. It could have been intimate and romantic, if not for the bustling traffic and intrusive "dance product" -- jarring disco-esque versions of hits from the olden days, such as Dylan's "Ballad of a Thin Man."
I started with a very nice French Sancerre, and potato soup with kale and chorizo. The crispy greens and sausage topped creamy soup, a nice contrast in flavor and texture. Very tasty. My salmon fillet entree was served rare, as requested, with lentils, honey mustard sauce and pea shoots. It was nicely prepared, the sauce was more tangy than sweet, the way I prefer. The salmon was very rich and buttery, the pea shoots fresh and crunchy. I moved on to a Rhone with the entree, nice body, not overwhelming. My dessert was a mixed bag -- under-ripe fruit salad topped with a dab of wonderfully tangy grapefruit sorbet. The portions weren't generous, but the quality was excellent, I enjoyed everything, except the eh-level fruit.
One of my routine dining complaints: A teabag dangling in a cup of tepid water should not cost $5.
The service was so-so at best. A waitress took our order and the food and appropriate silverware was delivered by several servers, who inevitably gave us each the wrong thing. At one point, the waitress loudly scolded one of the servers for something he'd done wrong at another table. Hearing someone getting his ass chewed is rarely on my list of criteria for a fine dining experience.
The women's room -- or should I say "woman's," it was a single-user situation -- was nothing special. The dark wood and black fixture decor, paired with fluorescent lighting, made even a minor makeup adjustment difficult to impossible. Who looks good in that setting?! The vessel sink splashed water all over, and it's already taking its toll on the wooden vanity.
Would I go back? I'm not sure. The food was very good, we liked the view, the atmosphere and service left a lot to be desired, but the price was right. We didn't mention the restaurant week promotion when we made our reservation or before we were seated in outer Siberia. The whole thing felt a bit off. Although the food was good, the evening didn't add up to a festive, exciting dining experience.
Update: We did mention the restaurant week promotion when we made our reservation, which I feel was the reason for our banishment to "Siberia". Really, if these places really wanted the restaurant week promotion to result in more traffic, they should not make the diner feel like a poor relative. -The Grumpy Diner -
Several tables were set up in the hall between the elevator and the main dining room -- we were tucked into a deuce between a party of 10 or so and a table of six. Besides the view, the decor in the area consisted of a gleaming vintage meat slicer, a gift to the chef.
The location felt kind of like sitting at the kids' table at a family holiday. It could have been intimate and romantic, if not for the bustling traffic and intrusive "dance product" -- jarring disco-esque versions of hits from the olden days, such as Dylan's "Ballad of a Thin Man."
I started with a very nice French Sancerre, and potato soup with kale and chorizo. The crispy greens and sausage topped creamy soup, a nice contrast in flavor and texture. Very tasty. My salmon fillet entree was served rare, as requested, with lentils, honey mustard sauce and pea shoots. It was nicely prepared, the sauce was more tangy than sweet, the way I prefer. The salmon was very rich and buttery, the pea shoots fresh and crunchy. I moved on to a Rhone with the entree, nice body, not overwhelming. My dessert was a mixed bag -- under-ripe fruit salad topped with a dab of wonderfully tangy grapefruit sorbet. The portions weren't generous, but the quality was excellent, I enjoyed everything, except the eh-level fruit.
One of my routine dining complaints: A teabag dangling in a cup of tepid water should not cost $5.
The service was so-so at best. A waitress took our order and the food and appropriate silverware was delivered by several servers, who inevitably gave us each the wrong thing. At one point, the waitress loudly scolded one of the servers for something he'd done wrong at another table. Hearing someone getting his ass chewed is rarely on my list of criteria for a fine dining experience.
The women's room -- or should I say "woman's," it was a single-user situation -- was nothing special. The dark wood and black fixture decor, paired with fluorescent lighting, made even a minor makeup adjustment difficult to impossible. Who looks good in that setting?! The vessel sink splashed water all over, and it's already taking its toll on the wooden vanity.
Would I go back? I'm not sure. The food was very good, we liked the view, the atmosphere and service left a lot to be desired, but the price was right. We didn't mention the restaurant week promotion when we made our reservation or before we were seated in outer Siberia. The whole thing felt a bit off. Although the food was good, the evening didn't add up to a festive, exciting dining experience.
Update: We did mention the restaurant week promotion when we made our reservation, which I feel was the reason for our banishment to "Siberia". Really, if these places really wanted the restaurant week promotion to result in more traffic, they should not make the diner feel like a poor relative. -The Grumpy Diner -
Airmont Diner, Suffern, N.Y.
This shiny chrome diner that's heavy on glass brick looks just the way a classic diner is supposed to look. Unfortunately, the Airmont is a must to avoid.
We went there twice recently. First time was kind of blah: egg-white omelette made with canned mushrooms, nice crispy home fries, tepid tea water, not much in the way of service or atmosphere, but not really offensive.
Giving the Airmont a second chance wasn't on my list of priorities, but we were in the neighborhood and it was half-past lunchtime for the Grumpy Diner ...
Even before we were seated, I knew there was a problem. We walked past several unbused tables of barely touched food.
I had been thinking about the Jefferson Diner, so I ordered a salad similar to one I'd had there: roast peppers, fresh mozzarella and grilled portobello mushroom with mixed baby greens. It arrived garnished with a hair. I should have quit while I was ahead and skipped lunch, or ordered something else, but they promised to bring me a new salad. It was ok, but my heart wasn't in it.
In the meantime, another group came in and didn't sit down for a while because they said there was butter or something smeared on the chairs.
The women's room was nasty, wet floor (etc.) and overflowing trash cans.
And on the way out, a waiter was carrying a couple of barely touched sandwiches up to the manager, who snarled "What's wrong now?"
Next time I'm in the area, I'll take my chances with whatever venue Sister Mary Ballbuster, GPS, recommends for a meal.
We went there twice recently. First time was kind of blah: egg-white omelette made with canned mushrooms, nice crispy home fries, tepid tea water, not much in the way of service or atmosphere, but not really offensive.
Giving the Airmont a second chance wasn't on my list of priorities, but we were in the neighborhood and it was half-past lunchtime for the Grumpy Diner ...
Even before we were seated, I knew there was a problem. We walked past several unbused tables of barely touched food.
I had been thinking about the Jefferson Diner, so I ordered a salad similar to one I'd had there: roast peppers, fresh mozzarella and grilled portobello mushroom with mixed baby greens. It arrived garnished with a hair. I should have quit while I was ahead and skipped lunch, or ordered something else, but they promised to bring me a new salad. It was ok, but my heart wasn't in it.
In the meantime, another group came in and didn't sit down for a while because they said there was butter or something smeared on the chairs.
The women's room was nasty, wet floor (etc.) and overflowing trash cans.
And on the way out, a waiter was carrying a couple of barely touched sandwiches up to the manager, who snarled "What's wrong now?"
Next time I'm in the area, I'll take my chances with whatever venue Sister Mary Ballbuster, GPS, recommends for a meal.