Indian Accent. New Delhi. If you are planning to be in the neighborhood book it. Weeks in advance. And go.
If you can’t manage the trip to India, try the one in New York, or hope for another pop up in Tel Aviv. But go.
It’s a miniature jewel box of a place, in jewel box colors.
Chef Manish Mehrotra is a genious of a cook. Order the tasting menu and let him have his way.
The whole evening was pretty remarkable, precripitated weeks earlier by an email from Gale saying, “hey, I wonder if we can get in here.” Turns out we could.
Started with a some bite-sized blue cheese naan and mouthful of cauliflower and turmeric soup in a tiny gorgeous jet black pottery cup. Bouches were all suitably amused.
Then came a variation on Indian street food, a way too small mason jar of papdi chaat, exquisite with freaking burrata instead of the yogurt.
Then a little “taco” — fragrantly and spicy jackfruit (pulled pork for the meat eaters) wrapped in a tiny chapati. I made it last for three bites and it wasn’t enough.
Then Tofu Medu Vadai (whatever that is — a tofu fritter of sorts) with Kafir line gun powder and onion chutney.
And then potato and soya dish, baked with tiny crunches of chili potato grits. Yup. Grits. Amazingly fabulous. At this point we were still at the stage where we thought we could eat all night. I considered asking for more, but thankfully refrained.
Good thing, because we had only just finished the starters. The spicy pomegranate popsicle pictures above arrived to cleanse and stimulate our tastebuds, and then came the main dishes. Jerry had chicken keema, Tom had scallop masala, Gale had wild mushrooms with a paper thin dosa, and I had Chef’s interpretation of mattar paneer — one unlike any I’d ever had before, served with baby kulchas, wasabi yogurt, and dal.
Dessert. Sigh. Black carrot halwa, vanilla ice cream, custard apple cream, followed by some mouth tingling digestives and a small box of sweets to take home.
And, Bloomington and Florida friends, I am ready to try this all at home!