Paru's

On my way to dinner, walked past houses smelling of dinnertime, then the stench of trash, and finally, at the corner of Sunset and Kingsley, the overwhelming scent of not pizza, but potatoes, from a pizza parlor, the kind of potatoes encrusted in golden batter, more substantial than the chicken, spiced and thick and sliced in thick chunks that are still cooked so well they melt in your mouth. But past that: press finger to bell and get buzzed into a patio, with small blue bulbs hanging, then enter, past families and couples taking dinner on this patio, darkened by canopy of trees. A small east Hollywood hideaway.

I met AQ and we sat at the table I'd wrangled, having moved from inside (leaving the soft scent of incense behind) to outside, and then even further back into a private area, set back from the other tables. Cold beers, two each, and large plates of daal, spinach, potato, curry, papadum, kulcha, and more. The meal as nourishing as the conversation. And after: Indian coffee, smooth and almost creamy, an excellent ending.

Comments

[karrie]

You have a way of making me want Indian food soooooo bad. If I had a restaurant, I would want you to write the menus. Imagine how irresistable each item would be.