Eating Samosas At The Epicenter

Going out to eat and drink in New York City, especially if you're a bit of food reviews junkie like myself, there is always this lingering feeling that there's someplace hotter and hipper than where you are. But as I stood in the upstairs bar area at Spice Market in the Meatpacking District last Saturday night, after Amanda Hesser published a rave review in Wednesday's New York Times, I realized I was at the epicenter of the buzz. And a word to the wise, at the epicenter of the buzz, everyone is staring at everyone else trying to determine if they might be at all famous. I sort of felt a little bad that I wasn't Courtney Love, minus the incoherent ramblings and the boob flashing.

I ate at 66 last spring, another Jean-Georges Vongrichten restaurant in TriBeCa often compared to Spice Market because of their similar Asian inspired cuisines. However, the two places are wildly different -- where 66 is sleek, sparse, cool and Chinese; Spice Market is textured, warm and Pan-Asian in the decor and the food. Housed in a renovated warehouse, the restaurant fills two floors -- a ground floor with a bar/waiting area and tables and then a lower level lounge. The two floors are connected by a massive staircase of carved wood in the center of the building, surrounded by enormous hanging purple lanterns with strings of crystals dangling inside to refract the light, and halfway down the stairs a mini-canopy of curtains reminiscent of a Jewish wedding huppah. It's the sort of staircase you wish someone adoring was sitting at the bottom of, so you could make an awe-inspiring grand entrance through it.

Our reservation at 6 pm, just as the restaurant opened, ordinarily might have made for a "too early for the party" scenario, but already the joint was hopping. I overheard a few people practically pleading with the hostess for a table but were informed reservations were necessary, as we swanned past them to our table. Our waiter had a fresh faced enthusiasm surprising for a habitude in the buzz, and he promised us "a flow" to the dishes we ordered which would appear "family style." This proved to be our down fall, as every item on the menu looked better than the last, thus forcing us to order far too much food. I would make you a list of the highlights including the blood orange mojito, the spicy chicken samosas with cilantro yoghurt, the crab salad and the pea shoots with mushrooms and water chesnuts except each dish was better than the last. However, by the time the main meat dishes arrived, pork vindaloo and chicken, we were too stuffed to do more than taste them and they've made for enviable lunches the last few days.

Our waiter and the manager apologized for interrupting "the flow" as our salad was delayed by a ordering mix-up, but we barely noticed as we soaked up the laid-back ambience and the hum of chat around us. Also, the server's outfits with their crisscrossing bare back ties and fluttering thin material were enough to keep me entertained. In the cab going home the pungent smells emanating from my handle sack of white cardboard take-out leftovers overwhelmed me a little and reminded me again of Hesser's ruminations about Vongrichten potentially controlling the air's scent surrounding his restaurant. It's an apt way to characterize eating at Spice Market, because it really is such the full sensory experience. And it is valuable to know now, there are some good samosas to be had at the epicenter of the buzz.