can i just say, if a restaurant is hyped for having its own homemade tofu, right then and there, it should be awesome? but no, i am wrong, because i have never been more bored by the bean curd in my life. this is all unfortunate because i could eat tofu, from silken to extra firm, all day and night.
cho dang gol’s main downfall is this awful purple mushy concoction they dare to call “multi-grain rice,” which is actually regular rice with red beans cooked into it. now this may sound like delicious results but no, what happens is that the rice is overcooked and takes on the texture of wallpaper spackle. some people might like this, but i am a firm believer of al dente (oh, yes, pun intended). not even the sizzling hot stone bowl burning the rice to a browned crisp could save my spicy squid bi bim bop.
oh, and the tofu? it was grainy and reminded me of tofu that’s been frozen and cooked. now some people, especially non-asian vegetarians, like this texture because it absorbs marinades better, but as a full-blooded cantonese girl, i cannot abide by this atrocity done to the chinese version of cheese. how dare you turn a curd into a turd?
disappointed, i thought i could salvage my tuesday with a fine dining experience with friends at an indian restaurant that came highly recommended by a friend. his identity shall not be revealed as i don’t want anyone threatening to lynch him because THIS PLACE SUCKED. ladies and gentlemen: as a public service announcement, avoid BRICK LANE on e. 6th street by all means possible!
it’s ironic that the one dish that came with a disclaimer was the only edible one. what was labeled “phaal” we coined “fail,” since it was supposed to be so spicy that nobody could finish it. well, guess what? we wound up spooning it over rice and declaring it reminiscent of tomato sauce. yeah, not so spicy. i’ve eaten potato chips with a higher heat index than this!
i ordered goat madras, and what arrived was a dish of some bone-riddled chewy meat that i could only surmise was goat, submerged in an extremely bland, under-salted red sauce that was tinged with coconut milk. underwhelmed, i turned to my companions’ plates for relief, but alas, there was none to be had. we all agreed that the only salted dish was the mango chutney, and that it was vile as well.
it’s a bad sign when the entrees arrive in two different time zones. also, another bad sign when the wait staff can’t remember to bring you what you’ve ordered. the death knell was when a friend wound up spitting out mouthfuls of food outside and deciding he needed to get drunk.
the whole premise of indian food in nyc is that it’s supposed to be good, fast and cheap. well, at 40$ per person, this was not good, fast nor cheap! considering brick lane is on a block that’s completely occupied by indian restaurants offering far better fare for 1/4th the price, i suggest you skip this spot and saunter a few more yards down to taj mahal, located a few doors down.
well, wednesday is upon us and i can only hope a hump and some halloween candy will revive this malcontent week of mine.
