Eat Like a Cabbie

Late last night, I picked up some curry on Crosby Street. At least four cabs were parked outside. It was around 10:30 and I couldn't remember what time Housing Works closed, so I walked down Crosby to find 1. That it was closed and 2. That the hole-in-the-wall Indian food (or is is Punjabi food?) place on the way to it was open. Apparently, it's open *all night.*

All night? I instantly considered all the ways an all-night Indian food place could come in handy. Many ways--many! Cravings are funny things.

Was it the best curry ever? Not exactly. Did I think about Dawat? Yes. Did I consider Suvir Devi's restaurant? Of course.

Did I worry about the man wanting to warm my chicken dish in the microwave (that is, if it wasn't being kept on simmer, what kind of bacteria might be growing in it, or something--I don't pretend to understand the ins-and-outs of all-night food-keeping)? I worried!

The main point wasn't the food. The main point was that I was buying $4 curry from a place that served it all night to "South Asian cab drivers" (as the Daily News pointed out in a reviewlette) in a neighborhood where all-night curry isn't *that* easy to come by I don't think. Late-night maybe but I don't think all-night. Very international. Only in enormous cities can a place like Lahore exist. It made me happy to be in NYC, and my good mood eclipsed my worry.

At least two cabbies said the tea is very good.