We've been pining for Indian ever since the Gandhi experience, but house rules are that we can't pay full price for a meal unless it will double as a new experience. But Gandhi was sooooo goooood.
I told Mike to check the Tamba website; their business cards are displayed at Gandhi, so maybe we could count on the same experience while having a new one?
The 10%-off coupon sealed the deal. Ten percent off what, they don't say - cheeky! With coupon, our meal was $25. Now you know. Oh, and we drank water, which is what they seem to prefer (yes, weird that), although at the end we did see someone with a soft drink.
We parked at the Monte Carlo because Mike hasn't been since he moved there, plus we have to visit before Project City Center completely eats the once-lovely casino up. (The once-loveliness has been lost to interior construction, no more monorail to the Bellagio, and a completely un-matching stone building for City Center jammed in front of the casino, I kid you not.)
Alas, thanks to the PCC construction, the Monte Carlo no longer has a parking garage. They have valet, or this little parking lot next to NY NY. We went with the latter and - ewf! - you can put up reflecting shades on every window and you're still not going to want to get in that car an hour later.
Next time we'll park at Planet Hollywood. That would've been our first choice, but we were just there yesterday, bemoaning what PH has done to the Aladdin. (A subject for another post. I'll just say that if you want to see a working fusion of Brady Bunch house / generic upscale shopping mall architecture, Planet Hollywood is the resort of your sick, perverted dreams.)
Tamba is in the Hawaiian Marketplace, a place I have totally ignored for two and a half years. I shouldn't. Located between the Harley Davidson cafe and Coke World/MGM/etc., it's surprisingly nice despite the miniature strip malls bracketing it. We kept saying, "wow, who knew this was here?" You could walk right by and think, oh, it's just a little patio with sunglass huts and novelty drinks. When really it's the gateway to my newest bestest restaurant friend:
I don't know what's going on inside the building. (See below.) There are nice signs downstairs for mostly better-than-average food court offerings, but it doesn't look like it's ever been open. Maybe it's just really clean. I don't care - it's what upstairs that matters.
Tamba itself is just lovely. Cool, relaxed decor. Clean jeans and flip-flops are perfectly suitable. (I speak only from the experience of lunch buffet, you understand.) The service is beyond outstanding - it actually inspired me to be a more civil, articulate person. And the food - OH SWOON!
I tried a little bit of everything and it was all so, so, so delicious. It was similar to what's at Gandhi, but not quite the same. (For example, they did not have a cilantro chutney, but somehow I lived.) I didn't know what to do for my second plate because there wasn't a single iffy dish. It has been a looong time since I've worried over where to find room in my belly for more cabbage.
Mike and I agreed that the sauce that went with the cottage cheese cubes was the best. He even rated it higher than his chicken, and the chicken he put on par with Chutney Mary's in Claremont, Western Australia. You have no idea how high that praise is. As he spoke those words, I think a statuette simply appeared on the table, for Chutney Mary's is the Oscar of Indian cuisine for Mike.
I put that sauce over the fried veg/grain thingies and mmmmmm. Just look at the ceiling and practice saying MMMmm to yourself for five minutes, and that will sum it up. Mmmmm.
Mike hit the brick wall (maybe even shoved it forward a foot) before he could try dessert, but I went for it. A month ago, if you'd said, "let's go eat balls of cottage cheese that have been deep-fried and left to soak in hot maple syrup," I'd pass without even looking up from the computer. I'd probably even pull a face. But oh, the yumminess! It was like mouthfuls of an autumnal doughnut soup with spicy doughnut hole dumplings. No wonder everyone (except Mike) was half-reclining in their chairs, slowly spooning pieces of the "stuff" into their mouths.
I'd rave more, but Mike is comatose in the next room, having eaten enough to hibernate until next August. I'm about to join him. The walk back to the car was cruel, but we carried our memories of a perfect Indian meal with every step. I think I know what we want for our birthdays.
In short: don't be fooled by the strip mall-style sign. This is a beautiful place with beautiful food. It's so good that I'm probably dead. It's so good that, even though I'm dead, I'm blogging about it instead of going into the light. Tamba = Terrific.
*sigh*
Still craving Indian food from your LAST visit to am Indian restaurant. Must do something about that.
Posted by: Heather in PA | 10 August 2007 at 09:08 AM