Curry Row

Curry Row, on 6th Street between 1st and 2nd Aves in the East Village, was my destination tonight. Back in the Fall, I told myself I'd like to try many of the restaurants on Curry Row. Total so far: 1. Now that I know I'm leaving New York, I feel a sense of urgency to do so many things I haven't done yet. This meant back to Curry Row for dinner.

As I walked from Murray Hill down to the East Village, I lamented that fact that I haven't found a place in New York where, when I eventually come back as a visitor, I would "need" to visit for that favorite entree/appetizer/dessert/drink. While I wouldn't "need" to go back to my restaurant choice tonight, I wouldn't rule it out if I'm in the area.  I enjoyed the whole experience.

My first visit to Curry Row in the Fall took me to Sonar Gaow. In reality, I chose it because it advertised an incredibly cheap dinner and, truth be told, I loved the chili pepper lights strung throughout the restaurant. Just down the block from Sonar Gaow is Calcutta, my random choice for this evening.

I was lured into Calcutta because of the advertised $9.95 meal that included papadam, soup, a choice of samosa or pakora (vegetable or meat), entree with naan, and dessert. Wow. It was a lot of good food, and I washed much of it down with a King Fisher beer, which I tried for the first time. (Nice, light lager.)

I brought enough food home to have dinner another night. Amazing. The added bonus - a sitar player during dinner. When I first walked in and saw/heard him, I thought, "Great, this will be cool." After my initial amazement (my first live sitar performance), the music became irritating - perhaps because it was a little too loud. Eventually, the sitar player took a break. When he came back, the music seemed quieter and was slower and more mesmerizing. By the time I left, I felt like I was in a relaxed trance.

Before my trance-like state, however, I notice that when the sitar player player came back from break, he had one sock on his right foot but none on his left foot. At first I thought he wore one sock because it was on on the foot that was exposed to the patrons - and most people don't want to look at a foot when they are eating. I finally figured out the real story...I think.

The sitar player was sitting with his right leg crossed over his left (formerly called "Indian-style"). His left foot was with the sole up. The rounded-body of the sitar was nestled in the arch of his foot. Aha! If he wore a sock on his left foot, the sitar would slip off too easily! Got it! (Hey, when you're dining alone, solving mysteries like this - or listening to the conversations of others - is a great way to spend time while chewing!)

Back from dinner, I was curious how many strings a sitar has as I couldn't really tell in the dimly lit restaurant.  I was shocked to learn the following from Wikipedia:

A sitar can have 21, 22, or 23 strings, among them six or seven played strings which run over the frets...Three of these (or four on a Kharaj-pancham sitar)...simply provide a drone: the rest are used to play the melody , though the first string (bajtaar) is most used.

I did notice that one string was the most strummed when I watched the sitar player tonignt.

Wikipedia also stated the sitar is

Used throughout the Indian subcontinent, particularly in Northern India, Bangladesh and Pakistan.  The sitar became known in the western world through the work of Pandit Ravi Shankar beginning in the late 1950s, particularly after George Harrison of The Beatles took lessons from Shankar and Shambhu Das and played sitar in songs including "Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)".


A few years ago, I learned of Ravi Shankar because he is the father of Norah Jones.

From Curry Hill, a great meal, excitement-turned-ambivalence-turned-hypnotic state over the sitar, to Norah Jones.  A weird "six degrees of separation" in a few-hour period. These are the things I'll miss about New York and will need to come back to when I become simply a tourist again.