Rangoli Indian Cuisine: Off the Hookah

Why, what’s this? Could it be… a blog entry?

I’m back everybody! Sorry it’s been so quiet over here. My 8-5:00 has been more like a 6-7:00 this past week, and the focus has been getting that work done for quite some time. However, to celebrate the end of a hectic week, I got the peeps together Saturday evening for what turned out to be just about the coolest get-together ever. All I can say is, my apologies for not alerting you of this event ahead of time. Because this was a classy affair: unbelievably entertaining and an insanely good value.

The venue was Rangoli Indian Cuisine in New Rochelle. I’m always up for Indian, but the restaurant was having a special affair to commemorate Diwali (an Indian holiday celebrating the festival of lights). For $50 per person, guests got to experience: an Indian buffet, open bar, bellydancing, live Sitar and Tabla music, and a bazaar downstairs offering Henna tattooing, Indian jewelry and clothing. The event was brought to my attention by my bellydancing instructor Bina (yep, you heard that right …and we’re moving on), who said she would be performing.

So, while the event has passed, and I realize some of you might’ve appreciated a heads-up as opposed to a re-cap, I’ll try to paint an accurate picture of what we experienced, and be sure to post the next event when it is announced. (I’m told Rangoli hosts live events often).

I arrived at the restaurant at 7:00 p.m. with friend Todd and bellydancing partner-in-crime Tia. There we met my brother Bill and his girlfriend Lori, and friends Erin, Pete, Christina and Chuck. A table had been reserved for our party in a festive-looking dining room, but the real action of the hour was happening at the open bar. Yes! Open bar! $50 per person was the golden ticket to Indian apps, buffet, live entertainment, culture, and ah-ah ah-ah ah-al-co-hol. Of the copious amounts of beverages consumed that evening were: Jack and Coke, Seven and Seven (both were very strong), good quality Pinot, Kingfisher, Heineken …. and cranberry juice for the designated driver. Next to the bar was a generous portion of appetizers, none very recognizable to me. There was a tandoori-looking chicken that was bright green in color instead of red, some type of cake made from grits, something resembling sausage, steamed lentil cakes, and an assortment of chutneys and sauces. Everything was quite tasty.

After a few rounds of drinks and more finger food than necessary, a group of us wandered downstairs to scope out the bazaar. Lovely clothing and jewelry were on hand, but I was immediately drawn to the Henna. I pointed to an intricate design and asked the woman behind the table how much and long it would take to paint. “Ten dollars,” she said. “And only about five minutes.” My girlfriends and I exclaimed over the deal and we all agreed to get tattoos. Sisters forever! I sat down first, and the woman began applying henna paste to my hand using a device similar to an icing tube. Within minutes, a lovely floral pattern emerged. But I was confused. The henna sat on my skin like little raised dots. The woman saw my expression. “Leave it on for about 20 minutes, and then rinse your hand with water,” she explained. “It will be dyed underneath.”

I eyed the delicate, wet dots. “Good luck trying to eat tonight,” I thought to myself sadly, but cheered when the woman added a few more swirls. My girlfriends began to shift uncomfortably, also thinking how difficult it would be to eat. As if on cue, we heard the host upstairs introduce the bellydancers; the excuses followed soon after, then a mass exodus of sisters sans tattoo went up to the dining room.

So whatever: I was the only one with a beautiful semi-permanent Henna tattoo. Monte from the mailroom made me feel a lot better about it at work two days later. (“Good Lord!” he exclaimed when he dropped off the mail. “What happened to your hand?” I told him. “It …looks kind of gross,” he said and then walked away.)

Anyhoo, I rushed back upstairs shortly after my tattoo-less sisters, and took my seat just in the nick of time to see the beautiful and mesmerizing Bina dramatically emerge in full bellydancing garb and Isis Wings.

Talk about a performer. Every eye in the house was on Bina. Watching her dance was reason enough to visit Rangoli. She moved in and out of tables with energy and spirit, captivating and inspiring all. Later, two of Bina’s students joined her on the dance floor.

“This is awesome,” Pete said, smiling from ear to ear, recording every second with his cell phone. “Todd, duck down,” he said, positioning his phone over Todd’s head to get a better view of undulating torsos. I noticed a growing crowd of people outside the restaurant, hands cupped to the window, also trying to get a glimpse of the show.

Then I noticed one of the dancers move toward me. But her hands were outstretched in a beckoning-motion.

Before I even had a chance to panic, I was swaying back and forth with the dancers on the floor, moving to the music, amidst cheers and encouragement from my friends. Next it was Todd’s turn to bust some crowd-pleasing moves, then Lori and Christina’s, followed by other diners who were more than happy to be coerced onto the dance floor. It was amusing to see some of the more timid and reserved-looking guests boogie down. Open bar must’ve really helped with inhibitions because there wasn’t a wet blanket in the room. Just happy, slightly glassy-eyed faces.

Still, the star of the show was unequivocally Bina. There was veil work, there was a cane, there was a sword. That she balanced on her torso. Unbelievable.

“Pete,” Erin said, nudging her fiancé. “Can we come here for my birthday?”

“Absolutely,” he said, still recording. “It’s better and cheaper than Atlantic City.”

After the dancing portion of the evening, the buffet opened. While I realize that this here is a food blog, there was just too much going on to take pictures or really take note of what I was eating. And it all moved fast—by the time I got to the buffet table, the naan was gone, and shrimp and lamb had been strip-mined out of two main dishes (if you were patient enough to wait, all was replenished). I remember enjoying the chicken tikka masala very much, and exclaiming in joy when I saw a bowl of galub jamon balls for dessert.

The restaurant was also very warm, and there was only a small pitcher of water for our table of nine. Factor in alcohol, spicy, unfamiliar food, and our rowdy bunch soon got very quiet.

“My stomach’s angry,” Pete murmured, taking a bite of eggplant.

“Mine too,” said Todd. He loaded his fork full of spicy lentils. “Let’s see if these help.”

Naan somehow found its way to our table, which was wonderful. I also loaded up on a dish that resembled Paneer Saag, but contained baby corn instead of paneer cheese, which was a bit of a disappointment. Still, the food ranged to good to very good, and made me want to come back to Rangoli and have a proper dinner.

Live Sitar and Tabla music carried us through the rest of the evening, as did the restaurant’s extremely gracious hosts. It wasn’t until very late at night that we left the restaurant, tired, full, and exceedingly satisfied.

I was amazed at the care and consideration that went into planning such a special evening. And the value was unmatched. A gratuity was added to our bill (despite the self-service buffet) to make the total about $65 per person, yet I still found the amount under-priced for what we experienced.

I hope to see you at the next celebration!

Rangoli Indian Cuisine
615 Main Street
New Rochelle, NY 10801
(914) 235-1306

Goldfish: a $15 Lure

What do you make of a place that charges $15 for a three-course dinner, with selections that include scallops and New York Strip steak? Can it be taken seriously? Is there a catch?

The short answer is yes, Goldfish Oyster Bar and Restaurant in Ossining can be taken seriously, and no, there’s no discernible catch: a three-course meal really is $15, Monday through Wednesday night (prices are higher for the rest of the week). And plenty of my food was actually quite good.

Goldfish was brought to my attention by my friend Fran, who was ready to celebrate her latest birthday. For the past few years, the tradition in our core group of five fun-loving gals has been treating the birthday girl to dinner, then splitting the bill amongst the remaining four of us (it’s not rocket science). Our group, however, was temporarily down two of its members (Roisin is a brand new mommy (yay, Roisin!) and Katy is on her way to becoming “Dr. Katy” up in Boston), so for the time being, it was up to Fran, lifelong partner-in-crime Danielle and myself to keep our birthday dinner ritual alive and fabulous. Fran, ever mindful of the bill now being split between two financially-strapped Westchester souls instead of four, declared Goldfish the perfect economic solution.

That’s how I found myself behind the Arcadian Shopping Center off Route 9 on Tuesday night, immediately after work. I arrived at 6:00 p.m., parking in a small lot across the street, which looked very much like a residential street, the restaurant looking very much like a residential house.

Inside, the restaurant is warm, somewhat noisy but inviting. There is a second floor overlooking the downstairs dining room and kitchen (I think there was a wedding reception up there. On a Tuesday), and downstairs, the vibe is somewhere between family friendly dining, and upscale diner. Tables are packed closely together, and there is a countertop where patrons can eat facing the open kitchen. The crowd ranges from younger strapped-for-cash 20 and 30-somethings, to families, to (the dominant demographic on our night) seniors. All seemed happy.

The prix-fixe menu is extensive, with some ambitious offerings.

Check out our appetizers:

I got the Smoked Salmon Platter:
There’s a lot of salmon here! In fact, I received more salmon at Goldfish (and good quality) than I have at other restaurants that charged a whole lot more. Nothing fancy, but delectable.

Danielle got the New England Clam Chowder:
I didn’t try this, but Danielle was very satisfied. She said the soup was creamy, chunky, and the portion was just right.

Fran got Mussels sautéed in a garlic lemon broth
I thought the portion looked generous, but Fran said she remembered it being larger the first time she ate at Goldfish. She was still pleased, though.

For entrees, I ordered the Seared Sea Scallops
Grilled asparagus, herbed potato cake, and Vin Cotto glaze:
Scallop fail. The portion was nicely sized (there were three large scallops) and I did like the taste and presentation of the herbed potato cake (in the back, on the left). But while the scallops looked like they had a decent sear, there was no texture on the outside, so it was kind of like eating… flan. Which isn’t a good thing. Maybe they were undercooked? Which is also not a good thing. The vegetables were well-seasoned and garlicky, but the Vin Cotto glaze might’ve been too sweet for the scallops. This was a disappointment, yet I still feel like I got my $5 worth (how can you lose, really?) because I devoured the potato and the vegetables.

Danielle ordered the Grilled New York Strip Steak
Grilled asparagus (she substituted asparagus for the spinach), another potato cake, and a port wine mushroom sauce:
You can see from the picture that the portion is again pretty substantial for a five note. Yet Danielle being Danielle ordered her steak well done (“extremely well done, No blood at all!”), so it was hard for me to judge the quality and texture of the meat. I will say that for an “extremely well done” order, the meat was pretty tender. And the sauce was good. It kind of reminded me of beef stroganoff. Maybe not a good thing if you’re looking for NY Strip, but I sure am a fan of stroganoff.

Fran’s looks the worst. She got the Cappellini alla Salmone
Arugala, fresh tomato with a light lemon garlic broth:
It actually tasted good once Fran mixed it all together. The presentation was awful. All of the sauce was in the bottom of her bowl, and it looks like dry pasta was added as an afterthought, heaped on top with no seasoning whatsoever. The salmon did look tender and moist once we uncovered it under the pasta, but I thought this was the most inexcusable entrée.

For dessert, the portions were much smaller, yet very delicious:

I ordered the Ricotta Fritters:
The presentation could use some work (that’s a big ol bowl for a spoonful of lemon dipping sauce), but the fritters were scrumptious. They reminded me of the fried donuts you get at Chinese buffets, but the ricotta filling classed it up a little.

Danielle got the New York Style Cheesecake:
I didn’t want to try this because the portion was so small, but Danielle made it a point of telling me over and over and over how good it was.

Fran ordered the Butterscotch Pot De Crème:
This was lovely. Light and sweet, but not too sweet.

In short, old chaps, we got along swimmingly for the evening (you see what I did there? A little Goldfish humor). You can’t beat the value, and even though there were some hiccups during the entrée portion of our night, for the price, and for the selection available, I would heartily recommend Goldfish as a Monday through Wednesday meet up. Just as we discovered some gems in the appetizer and dessert section of the menu, I’m sure there are standouts under the entrée section waiting to be unearthed. And I have no problem forking over $5 until I find them.

Goldfish Oyster Bar and Restaurant
6 Rockledge Ave
Ossining, NY 10562
(914) 762-0051

Co. (Company)

Things haven’t been so good over at The Good Life this past week. Thankfully, I’ve got the best friends and family in the world, fall foliage that is begging to be photographed, mad poker skillz, drumming precision at Rock Band, and Top Chef to keep me warm Wednesday nights (Restaurant Wars this week, people!). In short, I’ve got a lot going on, so it’s best to keep the writing positive. Take now, for instance: as I type, I am enjoying a Boylan’s Black Cherry soda. It’s terrific! Oh, and also, there’s my college buddy Eileen, who will be turning 30 next month.

Because Eileen is my biggest foodie friend, it’s almost impossible for us to meet up in Manhattan without blowing a small fortune. We both adore the New York restaurant scene and view our get-togethers as precious opportunities to try hip, delicious places. In the past year alone we’ve conquered: Artisanal, Perilla, Anthos, Pearl Oyster Bar, and Corton.

For the past three months, I’ve been waiting to phone Eleven Madison Park in the hopes of scoring a table for Eileen’s big day. To make it until the end of November however, a quick fix was needed. The challenge was for Eileen and me to meet up before EMP, keep our bill under $75, and still make the destination fabulous.

Enter Co. (Company): Jim Lahey’s much-anticipated “gourmet” pizzeria in Chelsea, buzz factor made stronger by all that mouth-watering bread he’s been serving at Sullivan Street Bakery.

Co. is soooo the happening scene right now. It’s got a minimalist décor—long tables, warm wood, and sleek mirrors. It’s actually reminiscent of a sushi bar, yet the ambience is so full of life and energy and hipsters, I don’t think it’ll never be mistaken for anything other than a pizza joint.

When Eileen and I walked in Thursday night, the place was packed. I squeezed past models, college students, and a professor-looking fellow sporting a beret, to ask about the wait. Despite the crowds, the hostess was able to fit us in almost immediately, probably because we were the only party of two waiting (that or my blog is becoming stronger and more powerful than I could ever imagine).

To start, we ordered two salads.

Escarole ($7):
Bread crumbs, capers, anchovies, lemon and olive oil
Radicchio ($7):
Shiitake, taleggio cheese, balsamic and olive oil
Both salads were extremely fresh, a recurring theme for the night. My escarole had such a light, citrusy flavor, not at all weighed down by the anchovies or bread crumbs. Eileen’s radicchio had a snap, the shiitake mushrooms were firm and earthy—my only complaint was that they were a little stingy with the taleggio. I think there were only four cubes.

But who comes to Co. for salads? Let’s talk pizza.

Here is the Popeye ($17):
Pecorino, Gruyere and Buffalo Mozzarrella, spinach, black pepper, and garlic.
And the Stracciatella ($17):
Crushed tomato, black pepper, stracciatella cheese, and arugala.
Our server talked us into the Straciatella, saying it was Co.’s signature pizza—sort of like their version of the Margherita (although they’ve got a Margherita on the menu, too). I was most impressed by how fresh everything was. The arugala tasted as if it had just been picked—peppery and remarkably light, the straciatella (a mixture of mozzarella and cream) created complexity and decadence without weighing the pizza down, and the tomatoes were plump and flavorful. The crust was thicker than I expected—it almost reminded me of a Sicilian—yet it’s way more airy and chewy. My only complaint was that the edges were burnt (charred) in some places. This didn’t seem right for a $17 individual pie.

The Popeye was a great companion. While the Straciatella was light and fresh, the Popeye tasted heavier and more complex. Same crust-action going on (including more burnt edges—c’mon guys), and the combination of cheeses gave a pleasant saltiness. The spinach was masterfully cooked: you could taste the olive oil and garlic, but there was still a crunch and freshness to it. One pie wasn’t better than the other; they were just very different, in all the right ways.

Dessert was pretty lame. Eileen got the Chocolate Breadcrumb Torte ($6):
It could’ve been denser. It actually tasted a little stale.

And I got a small cup of praline gelato ($3):
Meh. It was fine. I put it in my coffee.

Our total for the night was $69.68 (Cokes, coffees, salads and dessert add up). With tip, we blew our $75 goal. But we didn’t really mind. We hung out until almost 10 p.m., had some really great pie (next time, I’d skip the salad and the dessert and get three pies), and soaked up the atmosphere.

A word about the service: incredibly friendly, and once you’re in, you’re in. You won’t be rushed. However, visits to our table were sporadic. Eileen didn’t receive a separate glass for her Coke, and we waited quite a bit for our server to take our dessert orders. If we were in a rush, this could’ve been really annoying, yet that night, I found it refreshing to just sit back and linger.

Co. (Company)
230 9th Ave (at 24th St)
New York, NY 10001
(212) 243-1105