It is awfully rare that I go to a restaurant four times without writing about it. My dining habits are such that I almost always eat out with a critique in mind. This makes dinner with me somewhat problematical for my Flame du jourwho starts a meal thinking shes in for some jaunty conversation about the days work or some friendly gossip, and ends up answering question like: whats that spice? or: whos that sous chef?
Lucky for her, shes been spared that inquisition every time weve been to the India Oven. Thats because were usually so busy noshing on naan and plowing through the vindaloo that conversation comes to a halt. This is probably a good-thingboth for the restaurant and our relationship. Anywayafter weve battled for the last bite of birayni rice or taken our last taste of tandoorweve too stuffed to rate the raita.
Now to be fair, I rarely go to any Indian restaurant in a critical state of mind. This is for two reasons: onebecause Indian food is pretty much like sex: the worst Ive ever has was pretty darn good, and two: most Indian restaurants are stupefying generic in their menu selections and cooking.
But India Oven rises above the curry crowd with an attractive dining room, attentive staff, and price to value ratio that is hard to beat. The food is also distractingly goodfrom the crispy papadum to the murgh tikka masalanot to mention the aforementioned tandooris and vindalooseverything Ive sampled has a highly seasoned snap that excites the palette rather than tires it.
And you know its gotta be exciting if I keep forgetting to talk about itwhich is pretty much the case when Im at the India Oven, maybe why Ms. Rightor is it Ms. Right now?keeps taking me there.
* Whatdaya get when you cross an Indian Restaurant with a sandwich shop?
* A New Dehlicatessen
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