The reviews are in...

Okay, so it's only one review, and as it's mine you might say it's a tad biased... but unless you're here to get my opinion, I'm really not sure why you're here. This is a review that I wrote for a small Indian place that I found downtown. It's kind of my new favorite hole-in-the-wall place (granted, it's really the only one that I know down here). If you're ever in the area and get a craving for Indian food, I highly suggest it.


Walking into Suruchi’s Indian Cuisine I had no idea what to expect. All I had to go by was a sign outside pointing me in the right direction and a recently renewed hankering for Indian food. After all, the worst thing that could happen would be me going home after a bad lunch and grabbing a quick PB&J, right? Okay, so the worst thing that could happen would be more along the lines of me going back home after a bad lunch and hugging the toilet for the rest of the day. But when I start jonesing for something, there can be but one cure. With this in mind I followed the sign toward my newest culinary conquest.
Upon entering the restaurant proper I took a quick look around to get my bearings. Simple café-style tables were arranged along the walls and would seat one or two persons, while more pushed together on the floor would accommodate larger parties. The chairs reminded me of my high school years, although (thankfully) they turned out to be far more comfortable than those of my youth. No servers were to be seen; instead orders can be picked up from the main counter once your number is called. At this point, your meal is handed to you on a plastic tray complete with individually portioned plastic flatware. The similarities to my high school days just keep on coming.
Then again, it takes more than a lack of linens to deter me. I grabbed a menu off of the counter and started looking over the selections. Thanks to a vast culinary vocabulary (and, no doubt, the pictures on the back) I was able to navigate the menu fairly easily. While I’ve never spent much (read: any) time over in India the menu seemed rather in tune with what I’ve come to associate with the cuisine. There are a few dishes sporting chicken, but the majority favored the vegetable cookery that is so common in the cuisine. This may explain why the vast majority of the customers were Indian themselves. Of course, the price is something anyone can enjoy, with entrees ranging from $5.99 to $7.99, lunch combos all hitting $8.99, and dinner combos going for $11.99. Being a fan of variety I went for Combo #1 which got me a plate of idli with peanut chutney and sambar, a fried samosa, and a mango lassi to drink.
After placing my order and patiently awaiting the sound of my number being called I was rewarded with a tray bearing my meal. Not wanting to miss out on anything I made a quick trip to a small condiment table before digging in. The choices here were limited, but considering the array of dips that I already held I wasn’t about to complain. One small tub held sliced red onions. The next, an odd mass of orange-brown stuff that, even after a small taste, I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was actually in there. The third (and last) container held small green chilies that dared me to test my mettle merely by looking at them twice. I grabbed three and went to my table.
Now, if there is one thing that did not remind me of my high school cafeteria, it was the food. Three steamed rice cakes sat on my plate, each one soft and spongy – all the better for soaking up one of the no less than four dipping sauces that I had to choose from. The sambar was light and thin, but bursting with flavor that I can only describe as quintessentially Indian in the menagerie of spices that I could hardly hope to identify other than the distinct smokiness of cumin. The peanut chutney was a smooth puree, and while the pale grey-brown color might put some off, the rich texture and almost fudge-like sweetness kept me coating my idli.
In addition to what was listed on the menu I had two further sauces for which to dunk my rice cakes. The first was a green puree that had a sweet, pepper-like aroma and, despite insinuating a slight cooling property, hid a not entirely short-lived heat that snuck to the back of my throat like the worst kind of ninja (not unlike those three small chilies that I had picked up earlier). The last was a small amount of a very sweet brown liquid with an exotic flavor that I both recognized yet found nearly impossible to place. I find it difficult to remember a time when I was quite so happy to be eating things that, frankly, I couldn’t tell you what exactly they were.
And this is saying nothing of the samosa. A beautiful, flaky pastry shell encased deliciously seasoned potatoes and peas. I’ve always been a fan of simple pleasures. The lassi as well was rich and creamy with just enough mango to be pleasantly flavored and not overpowering.
So while the ambiance may be a bit lacking if you’re trying to impress a date, the food is sure to please. And, I’m happy to say, neither a PB&J nor a seat by the toilet will be necessary.