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xelaI was so looking forward to trying this place. My favorite Indian restaurant in the world is Bengal Cuisine, in London, so when I noticed Bengal Cafe's sign in the ever-changing restaurant block on Mass Ave, the name alone prompted me to grab a takeout menu and make a mental note to try them next time I was in the mood for Indian. Which was tonight. So I called them and ordered Chicken Korma: an old standby, a simple dish that every Indian restaurant I've ever ordered it from has pulled off acceptably. Until tonight.
I arrived home to find three small pieces of chicken in a bland, watery brown sauce. Three pieces that turned out to still be on the bone. Something I have never encountered in Chicken Korma in any of the dozen or so places I've had it. Being an American, I expect chunks-of-meat-in-sauce to be served boneless. But I'm also aware that's not the way the rest of the world necessarily works. I decided it they hadn't figured out how to cater to American tastes yet, and that the flip side of that might well turn out to be some really special flavors. So I boned the chicken, put it back on the sauce, and sat down to eat it. And found myself with a mouthful of rubbery chicken which, while generally flavorless, also tasted a little off.
If I had been eating at the restaurant, I would have sent it back — something I have only ever done before when served the wrong thing, and usually not even then. As it was, I was pretty sure they'd be closed by the time I got there if I went back, so I just threw it out, cooked myself something boring and distinctly not Indian, and wrote this.
I arrived home to find three small pieces of chicken in a bland, watery brown sauce. Three pieces that turned out to still be on the bone. Something I have never encountered in Chicken Korma in any of the dozen or so places I've had it. Being an American, I expect chunks-of-meat-in-sauce to be served boneless. But I'm also aware that's not the way the rest of the world necessarily works. I decided it they hadn't figured out how to cater to American tastes yet, and that the flip side of that might well turn out to be some really special flavors. So I boned the chicken, put it back on the sauce, and sat down to eat it. And found myself with a mouthful of rubbery chicken which, while generally flavorless, also tasted a little off.
If I had been eating at the restaurant, I would have sent it back — something I have only ever done before when served the wrong thing, and usually not even then. As it was, I was pretty sure they'd be closed by the time I got there if I went back, so I just threw it out, cooked myself something boring and distinctly not Indian, and wrote this.
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Date: 2007-07-02 05:07 pm (UTC)