Food in NYC

I now understand how people can go on vacation just for food. Besides seeing the Rockettes show, eating was basically the central focus of our trip to New York City. But after three straight days of eating out, I think I'm done with restaurants for a while.

Our first night we went to Tamarind, an Indian restaurant featured on an episode of the Food Network's $40 a Day with Rachael Ray. We weren't starving when we got there, since we'd eaten a very late lunch, but that didn't stop me from indulging as much as my stomach could handle, and then some. Seriously, over the past few weeks, I think my stomach capacity has doubled or something. I'm able to eat a lot more food at one sitting than I used to, but the scale doesn't register any changes (at least not yet). Very weird. But back to Tamarind.

I particularly enjoyed the Tamarind shiitake with its bitingly sour but tangy and aromatic sauce. The tandoori salmon was good and you can't ever go wrong with dal makhani, or lentils in a creamy tomato-based sauce, but the real show-stopper were the breads. The rosemary naan took an already fluffy piece of bread and injected it with flavor and olive oil. And since when has a dose of olive oil ever made anything worse? The pudina paratha, a layered bread with mint, was soft, buttery and delicious. Overall, a place I'd definitely recommend.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for next evening's restaurant: none other than the famed Carnegie Deli. As we were making our way through dinner, we realized a very important lesson. It seems that after a certain level of fame, some places seem to ride more on their reputation and less on the actual product or service. They know customers will come, so why bother, it seems.

The deli wasn't too far from the hotel, so we decided to walk, hoping that the calories we burned would soften the blow of the many we were about to consume. In multiple guide books I'd read that there's hardly any elbow room between tables, sandwiches are impossible to polish off unless they're shared, and the wait staff likes to take pangas (Hindi for make mischief) with new customers, so I prepared myself. What the guide books don't tell you is that the restaurant does not accept credit cards, so you'd better have some cash on hand, and that there's a $3.00 charge for sharing a sandwich (which is totally lame. Just increase to price of the already $25 sandwich why don't you). And no guide book in the world will take away your shock at the absolute excess of food that shows up on the table. (Though you can't complain they don't give you your money's worth).

Mom and Papa shared an open-faced pastrami reuben (which was basically a pound of meat slathered with melted cheese and slapped onto a plate). "Where's the bread?" Mom inquired after it landed in front of us. After poking around with her fork for a couple moments, she finally unveiled the poor sliver of processed flour that had the unfortunate destiny of holding up the meat mountain.

Neeraj and I shared the Club Dear, a triple-decker bacon monster. My strategy involved splitting half of the sandwich into two mini ones and double fisting them, alternating between bites of turkey and what essentially became a BLT. Neeraj took a different approach, removing some of the bacon and trying to shove some of the turkey in its place. Needless to say, I somehow managed to polish off my entire half while Neeraj ended up doggy-bagging the remainder of his. I didn't even realize how much I'd eaten until Neeraj made a comment about how he couldn't possibly eat all that bacon, and when I looked down at my plate, everything was gone. The guy sitting at our neighboring table looked at me in amazement. "I really don't know how I did that," I remarked somewhat sheepishly (I wasn't even stuffed yet. See I told you - more stomach capacity). "Oh I know how - I watched you do it," he replied. He and his wife were sharing the reuben too and we all joked about the ridiculousness of this food.

In all seriousness though, I don't know how I haven't yet died of heart failure after eating all that bacon. And though it seems I've fulfilled my life's quota of bacon, according to Karen, all Spaniards eat is pork and ham, so it looks like I won't be able to avoid it for long.

Despite all this, we still managed to make room for dessert, and I have to say, the deli's truffle torte cheesecake is quite the satisfying combination of cheesecake, chocolate mousse and chocolate sprinkles.

The whole deli experience reminded us of the time we ate at Boston's Cheers restaurant, the one of sitcom fame. That time too, we were swept up in its pop culture significance and ended up with food that was less than spectacular. So, some lessons: Just because a ton of famous people say something is good, it does not, I repeat, does not, mean it really is. Oh, and according to Papa, the Woodside Deli's reuben still reigns supreme.

Tomorrow: The NYC culinary experience continues - Famed pizzeria Lombardi's and the dessert gem that sits across from it.