There are only two things that keep Bombay Palace tethered just above its competitors, restraining the restaurant from floating into the rare air of superlative Indian cooking.
We'll get to those in a bit. But for the most part, this small restaurant on West End is so superior to the bulk of Indian kitchens in this city that eating here seems like you're eating a different kind of food altogether.
At Bombay Palace, hemmed in by peachy-pink walls and waited on with consistent alacrity, you revel in the explosive, astringent tang of a black cardamom seedpod, which your teeth have found in a dish of cubed chicken with a tropically dazzling mango sauce. You notice the cinnamon stick in a seething, spicy Madras-style sauce and appreciate the earthiness it lends. You revel in the shards of carrot in the exemplary kheer (rice pudding).
A meal here is brimming with moments like these: real eye-closers. Even better, you can stumble into just as many at the lunch buffet as you can at dinner. But do go at dinner so you can savor a couple of Kingfisher beers with a meal. (They're brewed in New York, but that means they're fresher-tasting than the big bottles of Taj Mahal, which are shipped in from India.)
Dinner also feels more luxurious, romantic even. The lighting is sultry, the better to focus on the delicate sutras unfolding across your tongue. Take the lamb saag, a spinach-based dish with impossibly tender chunks of meat that I easily could shred with the tines of my fork. Ginger and garlic crossed swords as I dredged the meat through the sauce; it was delicious in an immediate way, but complex enough that a week later I still can enjoy the memory of all the layers of flavor.
Lunch brings surprises
At dinnertime, meals are wheeled out on carts whose lower tiers bear iron frames that hold hammered pots over votive candles. So not only are your savory dishes kept hot, but as you spoon them onto rice or naan, you get extra mood lighting in the process.
The servers who whisk the carts about are some of the most agreeable folks I've met in a while. Every request for extra condiments or bread was carried out with speed and a smile, and co-owner Ranjeet Singh was a delightful presence in the dining room, answering questions about dishes and filling water glasses with a friendly air.
I sensed no compromise in quality at lunch, though a few dishes were different than I remembered from nighttime dining. The chicken Madras, for instance, had a thinner, less spicy sauce on the buffet but was no less satisfying.
There's usually a surprise at midday; I particularly liked a chef's vegetarian special of broccoli and paneer (cheese cubes) in a red curry sauce. Earthy, salty spinach pakoras (fried fritters) were also delicious, especially with a dash of chili-ginger hot sauce.
If only the tandoori chicken and naan bread were better. These two dishes are vital to any Indian restaurant's ranking, and while neither is bad at Bombay Palace, both lacked the smoky, crispy badge that comes from an extended sear in the traditional clay oven. The naan tasted too doughy, as if it was made from a mix, and the chicken simply failed to excite.
I think a lot of diners would appreciate more combination platters on the menu, which is more than 60 entrees strong. Granted, many of these dishes are simply different meats served in the same style of sauce, but the existing combination platters are such a good way to sample a range of dishes that more of them in different categories (vegetarian, seafood, etc.) would make the menu easier to sample.
There's also a wide range of appetizers, priced well (a few are under $3). The refreshing, cool chana papri chaat combined tamarind sauce with chickpeas, potatoes and yogurt to stunning effect, and the potato samosas were delicately fried. The coconut saffron soup, however, is far too sweet, even to stand in as a decent dessert. For that my table preferred the kheer over the house-made ice cream or lassi (a sweetened yogurt drink).
Inevitably, you walk out of Bombay Palace unrepentantly stuffed. It would be nice to have just one more taste, something to remember the meal by, but when you focus, it's surprisingly easy to recall the many delights served here. That's the mark of great cooking.
That and a to-go box that's got you so excited about tomorrow's lunch that you can hardly sleep.
