Culinary Delights in Jackson Heights

I have a shameful, shameful secret

before yesterday the only Indian food I had ever eaten

were run of the mill samosas with cooling yogurt sauce

out of greasy paper bags while walking around the

empty streets of Woodside,

that all changed yesterday

when I went to the famed Jackson Diner in Jackson Heights

Jhumpa Lahiri's The Namesake

(great, amazing book, please read it)

inspired me to look at Jackson Heights differently

to walk out from 74th street train station

and not just focus on the bus I always have to catch

but instead, to emerge from the F train

to confront all the sights, the sounds, the pleasant congestion, and the assorted aromas

and watch the way the gold embellishments on saris

are complimented by the yellow of traffic lights

the way their jewel tones glint in the sunlight

and how the blaring Bollywood tapes and the clank of yellow-gold bangles

contrast the sounds of traffic, and the hurried conversations

so, out of the many days I spent in Jackson Heights

yesterday was the most special, because I was the most aware of its

raw, almost foreign beauty, although I had walked those streets

a million times

now, to the food,

anyone wanting to try deliciously authentic Indian fare

Jackson Diner is the place

I loved the eccentric array of plates, from rainbow ceramics to metal bowls and trays

I died for the cilantro and tamarind dipping sauces

and was literally eating spoonfuls (and fingerfuls)

of sauce between courses, not very ladylike

but who gives about manners when food is so delicious

I enjoyed vegetable pakora (battered & fried)

and malai kofta, croquettes in a curry sauce

which was more like a stew

a deliciously thick hearty bowl of everything amazing

and the rice, with its long, sticky grains,

topped with the dal (lentil stew)

was to die for, and let me tell you,

this Puerto Rican girl knows good rice & beans

anyhow, the best part of the whole day was dessert (of course)

and I enjoyed some burfi from Delhi Palace, a sweet, creamy,

neon pastry of milk & sugar

I picked it because of its beautiful florescent color

and found that the it tastes just as good as it looks,

I'm totally addicted, and it helped cool my mouth down

from all the preceding spicy greatness

all in all, it was a culinary adventure, in a familiar place: the best kind.

rows of beautifully bright pastries

obsession worthy burfi

pakora nom nom

I could eat this malai kofta every single day, more croquettes please!

such authentic presentation

it felt so homey, warm & comforting

I'm so smitten.