Broadway Revival

A few nights later, I returned with Patrick, who loved the draperies and the mannequin but got a bigger kick out of our waitress, a college student from Mongolia who didn't know much about Indian food but was awfully congenial. "I'm studying interior design at Penn Valley," she told us. That stunned another nearby waitress.

"It's a veritable United Nations in here," Patrick said, laughing. "No, intergalactic! The owner has the same haircut as Mr. Spock!"

Irfan Rafi does bear a slight resemblance to a young Leonard Nimoy, which only adds to this dining room's theatrical cachet. Having owned a fast-food joint in Kansas City, Kansas, before going upscale with New Café Tandoor, he's trying awfully hard to make his place different from any other Indian restaurant. You have to love him for his efforts, such as delivering silvery bowls of ginger chicken and lamb curry perched — a tad awkwardly — on gold metal votive holders. Which might be ridiculous if the ginger chicken weren't so extraordinary — light and fresh, with just the right degree of gingery tang.

Patrick raved about the tender lamb. "The curry sauce is so delicate and mild," he said. "A little hot, not scorching." Meanwhile, his eyes kept darting to oddities that delighted him: a juicing machine and a pile of fresh oranges (the only bar Rafi wants in here is a juice bar) and a little freezer case stuffed with cone-shaped kulfi ice cream on a stick. "This place is fabulous!"

I have to agree, particularly after taking my friend Jim to lunch at the beautifully arranged buffet. We were the only customers there, but Rafi stood proudly by steam tables heaped with tandoori chicken, goat curry, chicken makhani, pakoras, breads, assorted salads and chutneys, rosewater-scented rice pudding and gulab jamun.

And chocolate pudding, which may be the only leftover from the days when this was an ordinary all-night diner. If Rafi keeps the chocolate pudding, he needs to dust it with chopped pistachio nuts — it covers a multitude of evils.