In this city, restaurants come and go faster than you can say "sustainable locavore burger." And even though there are great new additions to the culinary landscape popping up every week, you've gotta give kudos to anyone who can stick it out for over a year. With that in mind, we bring you Still Got It, our tribute to establishments that continue to serve mouthwatering meals and drinks long after the buzz has faded—or where the lingering hype is still justified.
On West 29th Street in Manhattan, across from the Ace Hotel and its gleaming cocktail bar, a patch of sidewalk is lined with vendors selling prayer beads, dates, and oils. The peddlers serve the crowds that come for prayers at the Masjid Ar Rahman in the sub-basement of a townhouse there, and at certain times of day, make its side of the street look like a microcosm of the Muslim world—South Asian, Arab, and African people, wearing keffiyehs, hard hats, meter maid uniforms—everybody's there. Upstairs, the restaurant Chandni, described by Google as "spartan digs for halal Indian food," is ready to feed all comers.
Chandni is a lunch/after-prayer spot, and thus not much to look at. (Nathan Tempey/Gothamist)
Chandni's cafeteria vibe extends from the drop ceiling down to the foam plates, and the menu on the wall is basically useless as what's served is constantly rotating. But according to a regular lunch visitor who served as my guide: entrees run generally around $8; there is sometimes a goat pullao special on Fridays; the veggie dishes are strongest; the grilled meats are not so hot; and Chandni offers a lot of Pakistani standbys that are hard to find around New York. Arab sweets are also occasionally on offer.
On a recent visit, the chicken roll was just $1.50, a filo-dough wrapped gift of not-imposingly spiced shredded chicken, just to get the saliva flowing. I'm told the samosas are pre-made, then frozen, but you wouldn't know it unless you got a not fully thawed one as my friend once did. Mine came hot, its soft, thin skin letting out vapors after the first bite. Inside, the potatoes were more mushy than I'm used to, but tumeric-stained and plenty tasty.
All the mains come with a salad that you might as well toss out on your way to your table to avoid tainting everything else. The karri pakora is chickpea flour fritters stuffed with vegetables, fried, and doused in a yellow sour yogurt sauce. I don't have a lot of past pakora experiences to compare it to, but this stuff is delicious.
Also being served was Chicken 65, a modern South Indian classic of disputed origin that, as made by Chandni, comes in tender bite-sized bits, coated in a sweet, unobtrusive purple glaze that strikes me as a spiritual cousin of teryaki. And there was okra, which I didn't realize was a popular Punjabi vegetable, or was possible to cook without having it come out slimy. The more you know.
Chandni and the mosque downstairs make a nondescript block of Midtown a Muslim social hub. Nothing I sampled was especially spicy, but it was all complex and deeply satisfying. The guys behind the counter are friendly, and they seem to care about the details. The naan was fluffy, the raita is made with cilantro, coriander, and cumin, and the chai is strong and comes with the milk-skin I hear is the test of a good Pakistani cup. Ten bucks will get you more food than is advisable to eat if you need some blood left for your brain for the next hour.
For the first-time solo eaters, religious devotee, office drone, or hardhat: a window seat is a prime place to space out or ponder the divine mysteries, such as how human life can persist in a place like Midtown.
Chandni, 13 West 29th Street between Broadway and Fifth Avenue in Midtown. (212) 686-4456. www.chandnirestaurantnyc.com
