| rev:text
| - There are Indian restaurants I simply don't visit twice: maybe they're not quite my style or the service was too poor to ignore. And then there is Indian Curry Bowl, an Indian restaurant so bad that I turn into Neil deGrasse Tyson. ("This makes me want to grab people on the street and yell, 'Have you heard this?!'")
In fact, ICB was such a disappointing experience that I'm bopping out of my "no time to Yelp" mode to warn the public. As the LOLcats say, "DO NOT WANT."
We ended up here after driving to another restaurant only to find it temporarily closed. You may think my mouth was set for a certain place, and that maybe I went to Indian Curry Bowl with unreasonable standards, but I swear my expectations were low. I have my fave places, sure, but I'm happy to add more to that list any time. I also don't seek out the same experience every place I go - variety is welcome.
We started with the vegetable samosas and they were much the same as what ICB supplies to Whole Foods. Not particularly layered in aromas or flavours, but okay. The tamarind chutney was a little different, chunkier than you usually see, and nice. The "green" chutney (I call it that because I couldn't tell if it wanted to be cilantro or mint) was fine. I wasn't purring as I ate, but it was all fine.
The fresh lemonades were excellent. We could hear our waitress spending several minutes using the blender, and the result was a chunk of creamy ice crystals surrounded by sweet tartness. The lemonades were worth me updating my Facebook status on the spot.
Now the downhill slide. And by "slide" I mean "luge." I ignored the beeping of the microwave - after all, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing (and may not even involve my food), but when - midway through my samosa - the waitress set down my paneer tikka masala, the "uh oh" flash came. "Uh oh, I didn't order soup."
I had plenty of time to try to mentally reverse my reaction while we waited (amid more beeps from the kitchen) for Mike's chicken tikka masala to arrive. So my dish looks like soup. I like soup! In fact, I almost ordered soup! So it's a little different. Different is interesting! A nicely spiced soup-sauce with paneer-cubes bobbing in it. What's not to enjoy? I took a slurp.
Pause. Slurp. Pause. Finally, I nailed the flavor: wet air. "Wait, is this even paneer, or is it tofu?" (I asked my husband.) It was so bland that I honestly wasn't sure. Where were the flavours? I'm not talking about the heat - I enjoy both spicy and mild dishes so heat's a non-issue- I mean the taste. The watery "sauce" just slid right off the paneer. Let me give you the copycat recipe right now: combine one can of tomato soup with seven cans of water. Season as if you're a heart-smart 85-year-old nun who thinks grinding your own pepper is playing it exotic. Garnish with a whacked-up piece of string cheese. Heat in the microwave and serve.
The plain naan was a little chewy, on par with the grocery store's frozen section. My husband found his garlic naan tasteless, but he's already discussed it in his review (along with his chicken tikka masala). The rice did smell like Basmati if you got it right up in your nostril, but it was... say it with me... tasteless. (If this were a drinking game, I'd have to make up the sofa for you.) Dumping the rice into the soup (it's misleading to call it anything else) didn't improve either element. Nor did adding the salt and pepper provided on each table (something one doesn't usually see in an Indian restaurant).
Maybe the watered-down blandness comes from ICB's "healthy" angle, but Mantra Masala also promotes healthy cuisine, and they don't wave a soup-wand over their dishes. (Don't take this as an endorsement for MM, though - they've moved to my naughty list, another story.)
With a bill over $50 (with tip), the extra star I might've added for the delicious lemonade + nice service + general kindness (because, after all, maybe there's a whole soup-style curry subculture out there that I just don't get) disappeared. My dish should have been six bucks, not thirteen. Maybe eight if the atmosphere was more "restaurant-y." (Until I saw the help-yourself basket of menus by the door, I was sure ICB was counter-service.) Put on your Charlton Heston pants and speak the truth: "Indian Curry Bowl is SOUP!"
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