By: Megan Irwin
This little guy stands gaurd at Tandoori Times, where I had the best naan I've had in years.
If I had to choose to eat only one kind of food the rest of my life, it would be Indian food. And I’m spoiled about it – I had it for the first time when I lived in Washington DC at Jyoti in Adams Morgan. Six months later I moved to NYC where I frequented a place in the east village my friends and I called “Christmas in Hell” (it’s real name is Panna II, but here’s a pic where you can clearly see how it got it’s name:)
Christmas in Hell: possibly the cheapest food in Manhattan. And you can BYOB.
After almost a year of eating superb, cheap Indian food, moving back to the Valley left a void in my life. In the three years I’ve been back I’ve had some good meals but still, I yearned for the naan and palak I’m convinced exists only in the magical vortex on first ave. between east 5th and 6th streets.
Until a friend, bless her, took me to Tandoori Times last summer. I loved it but for some reason never went back, until the same girl took me to dinner there again recently.
I’d forgotten how good it was. (And how clean! Unfortunately, many of my favorite Phoenix Indian joints have definite roach problems … though when I’m really craving their food, I pretend not to know this.)
Though I’m usually a palak paneer/dam aloo/chana masala type of gal, this time I opted for the veggie wrap, mostly because my friend said it was really, really good and I was too tired to make my own decisions.
The Tandoori Times veggie wrap, with dangerous chutney.
I’m glad I went for it. The wrap wasn’t exactly the traditional Indian food I’m so obsessed with, but the potato patty wrapped in fresh hot naan (that I’m fantasizing about right now) was dipped in tamarind sauce and complemented by beets, lettuce and tomato. I was in Veggie Girl heaven.
As a side note: the chutneys were hot. Especially the mango one. I’m a huge wimp so I pretty much stayed away after a sample, but if you can handle that burning sensation in your mouth, go for it.
