Pack your bags, intrepid readers we're going on a trip. Don't worry, it's not a fateful "Three Hour Tour" or anything like that. But this issue's column details my recent experiences with more international cuisines. We'll start with the more exotic of the two.
A few weeks ago one of my co-workers, who happens to have been born in Bombay, turned 30. To celebrate, another colleague and I decided to take him to lunch. Since we have seen him struggle trying to find something he can eat in the numerous restaurants we normally frequent, we felt it would only be fair to take him to a place where not only would he feel MORE comfortable, but where we would feel as out of place as he normally does. It was this desire that led us to Ambassador of India in Glastonbury.
Upon walking through the door it was clear that we weren't in Kansas anymore. The foyer of the restaurant was a small meditation area, which Manish (my Indian friend) explained is common in his country. Inside the restaurant proper it wasn't unlike most Western eateries, but with a few Indian prints and an altar featuring a great many Hindu gods. Manish was clearly pleased with the look of the place. We sat down and looked over the menu. Steve (my other colleague) and I were clearly lost trying to decipher it, so we left ourselves in Manish's hands. He asked what type of meat we wanted and how hot we wanted our curry (chicken-mild for Steve, shrimp-medium for me) and placed our order with the waiter. The waiter soon returned with bowls of chicken soup, and as soon as Manish smelled the aroma his smile broadened. It got even bigger at first taste, and he proclaimed it was EXACTLY the way he makes it at home. Steve and I enjoyed it as well a nice, delicate flavor of chicken, a little spicy, mixed with a few flavors we haven't the experience to describe.
We had just polished off the soup when lunch arrived. All featured the same side dishes crowded onto a plate with our different main courses. Mine was Shrimp Vindaloo, which was just as I had asked for a medium spicy curry with generous helpings of shrimp. I actually could have gone with a little more heat, but since I wasn't sure what I was in for, I had erred on the side of caution. But it was delicious nonetheless, and I happily sopped up the sauce with the pita-like bread they had brought out for that purpose. It was served with a very small-grain rice (which also made Manish very happy) and some fried bean curd balls Manish called "bhazis." All I can tell you is they were really good, especially dipped in the curry. There was also a mixture of potatoes, peas, and spices I didn't really care for, and a small salad consisting of mostly lettuce & cucumber. But all in all, I was quite pleased with the entire meal much more than I really expected to be. It was relatively inexpensive; I think it only cost $25.00 including the tip for the three of us. Manish spent the entire trip home proclaiming it to be the BEST Indian food he had eaten outside of his own kitchen since arriving in Connecticut.
From India, we move farther east to Japan for further broadening of my culinary horizons. This time it was sushi at the Tokyo restaurant in Southington. It had just recently opened, and it seemed as good a time as any for me to see what all the excitement over sushi was about. I had had California rolls before and liked them, but this was to be my first experience with the REAL DEAL.
The restaurant was nothing out of the ordinary. Several tables were scattered evenly about the modest room, with a tiny sushi bar tucked into one corner. We took a seat, and at the advice of my fellow diners (all sushi veterans, including my favorite editor) I ordered a combination plate. This came with soup and a salad, and soon enough the waitress was out with our soup. It was a standard miso soup, which Avery felt could have been stronger, but I thought was great. Since I had never had miso before I deferred to Avery's opinion on the matter.
Next was the salad: a simple bowl of greens with a ginger dressing. This sort of thing I HAD eaten before, and it was as good as the others I've tried with one minor glitch. The kitchen staff had failed to sufficiently dry the lettuce before plating it, so there was a pool of water in the bottom of my bowl. But that was a minor technicality.
Finally it was the moment of truth. Time to face the fish. I was brought out six different types of sushi whitefish, yellowtail, tuna, salmon, squid, and crab. All were served atop elongated balls of glutinous rice (NOTE: raw fish without the rice is called sashimi) with soy sauce, a rosette of ginger, and wasabi (Japanese horseradish). Following Avery's lead, I poured some soy into the bowl I had been brought, flavored it with a bit of wasabi, and dipped the yellowtail in for a taste. All I can say is WOW!!!! People, I'm telling you right now if you like fish, but are afraid to try it raw, get over it. The flavor is outstanding, and it doesn't have a slimy, fishy taste at all. As a matter of fact, it tasted fresher than any piece of cooked fish I have ever had. Sampling the other pieces, my feelings were confirmed. It was just absolutely delicious! I can't believe I had waited this long to try this. The California roll was equally as tasty, but I was just bowled over by how good this all was. In fact, I even ate the octopus from one of my dining companion's plates and liked that equally as much. Who knew that this was going to be so great?
There is one SLIGHT drawback to all this goodness. It is a
BIT pricey. For the four of us, with tip, lunch ran about $50.00.
But I've been told that sushi is usually kind of expensive because
they have to buy the BEST cuts of fish, so this was actually right
on the money. As for quality, I once again deferred to Avery,
who said that it was probably the second best sushi restaurant
he had been to in Connecticut (behind Fuji in West Hartford [actually,
third best Sapporo in Wethersfield leaves all other competitors
in the dust ed.] and worthy of a return trip. So there
you go, a tour of both the Near and Far East, and you didn't even
end up on a deserted island in a bad Sherwood Shwartz sitcom.
What more could you ask for?