Quantcast
Channel: Famous Fat Dave: The Hungry Cabbie » East Village
Viewing all articles
Browse latest Browse all 2

Blame It On The Curry

0
0

Yeah, I got a Milli Vanilli tape. What’s it to you? And when I get a cab with a working tape deck, I blast those jams. . . when I’m cruising around empty. I admit that when I stop for a fare while I’m listening to my “Girl You Know It’s True” cassette, I usually turn down the ruckus. After a few years of hacking, I found that most people aren’t ready to listen to Milli Vanilli immediately upon getting into a yellow cab.

But the other day I was in no mood to curb my enthusiasm. I was right in the middle of “Baby Don’t Forget My Number” when I got hailed in front of The Bitter End on Bleecker Street. By what I could see from the curbside, this was a jovial group of 30 something Indian guys in dress shirts and overcoats who had had more than enough to drink. I figured if they didn’t appreciate Milli Vanilli, they would at least tolerate it. In fact, they’d probably be oblivious to it.

Before they even all piled into the back seat, the one who got into the front seat was belting out, “BA BA BA BA BA BA BA BA BABY. DON’T FORGET MY NUMBA. LOVE WILL SEE YOU THROUGH.” Wide smiles were spread across all of our faces before I had a chance to hit the meter.

“68th . . . I’VE BEEN SEARCHING HIGH . . . and York . . . I’VE BEEN SEARCHING LOW,” the one in the front seat sang to me. “WANNA SPEND MY LIFE . . . WITH YOU.” They were howling with glee.

We fast forwarded through “More Than You’ll Ever Know” to get to “Blame It On The Rain.” Now the whole crew was singing at the top of their lungs. I joined in on the chorus, “GOTTA BLAME IT SOMETHING” the two of us in the front sang. “GOTTA BLAME IT ON SOMETHING,” the three in the back echoed. “BLAME IT ON THE RAIN THAT WAS FALLIN’ FALLIN’. BLAME IT ON THE STARS THAT SHINE AT NIGHT. WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T PUT THE BLAME ON YOU. BLAME IT ON THE RAIN, YEAH YEAH,” we all crooned.

They were my new best friends. While the ones in the back sang along with “Take It As It Comes,” the guy in front chatted with me. He told me they were all born in India, but they became friends during medical school in Bahrain. And apparently, Milli Vanilli was what they used to dance to all night during their med school parties 15 years back. They couldn’t believe their luck finding a cabbie who was playing their old battle hymns.

As he spoke to me in his thick, upper class British accent, the three in the back kept singing. Without missing a note, they all sang, “TAKE IT AS IT COMES GIRL. Don’t let him bring you down, yeah. Keep your motor runnin’. You know you own this town, yeah” as we pushed the reds up 1st Avenue. Now, that one wasn’t even a hit. They were actually starting to weird me out a little.

When they demanded that I fast forward to the “NY Subway Extended Mix” of “Girl You Know It’s True,” I broached the topic. “You know Milli Vanilli didn’t actually sing these songs right?” I asked. No one was singing because we were on fast forward, so there was an awkward silence in the cab. I was a little worried that they might burst into tears. “Oooooh, yes, yes, I know, I know,” the one in the front seat said with genuine pain in his voice. “When I heard that, I was so upset I didn’t eat curry for 2 days.”

That statement gave me a profound insight not only into this man, but into the Indian character. I figured he would have been upset, but I’d never imagined that an expression of that would come in the form of refraining from curry. And that also shows how much he loved curry. He was so upset that he couldn’t eat it, yet it is so much a part of his life that he only went two days before he was off the wagon again. Fascinating.

They were all joining in a rousing rendition of “Girl You Know It’s True” when we arrived at 68th and York. I told the guy in the front seat as he paid me, “I usually stay away from curry because it’s addictive, and I’m already addicted to enough foods that upset my stomach, but where do you go for your curry when you are in New York? Do you think Jackson Diner really is the best in town?” I was expecting some great tip out in Jackson Heights, Queens where so many of my cabbie colleagues reside. But this guy said he never leaves Manhattan when he comes to New York. I should have guessed that because he hangs out at The Bitter End.

As his friends started to walk off singing, “I’M IN LOVE GIRL. . . I’M SO IN LOVE GIRL. . . I’M JUST IN LOVE GIRL . . . AND THIS IS TRUE. EW EW EEEEW I LOVE YOOOOU,” he quickly told me he goes to Banjara in the East Village with a big smile and a little Milli Vanilli shoulders up, fists by his side, swaying dance move before he ran off to catch up with his friends.

BlogShots 234.jpg

I’d been to Banjara before and enjoyed it immensely. At the edge of Little India, I found Banjara to be totally worth the extra few dollars that they charge over the other spots on 6th Street. The chicken tandoori is moist and smoky simultaneously, which isn’t an easy feat:

BlogShots 237.jpg

And their Palak Ghost, boneless pieces of lamb cooked in a puree of spinach, tomatoes, and ginger tempered with cumin seeds, was so tasty mixed with the generous pile of basmati rice they serve up. I probably could go more than two days with out eating Palak Ghost, but there’s no need to.

BlogShots 236.jpg

Banjara pretty much puts every other Indian restaurant in Little India to shame. And next time I go, I think I may throw caution to the wind and take the chance of getting hooked on curry. MMM MMM MMM MMMMM GIIIIIIIIRL.

Banjara, 97 1st Avenue at 6th Street, East Village, Manhattanc

Visit www.famousfatdave.com for a laugh or to book an eating tour


Viewing all articles
Browse latest Browse all 2

Latest Images

Trending Articles





Latest Images