Punjab Grocery and Deli. Motto: 'we don't sell pastrami.'
I don’t claim to have discovered Punjabi Grocery and Deli, and I don’t care that I’m late to the party. Why? Because this party is delicious, and the food nerds/cabbies are all having a good time.
Here’s the deal: across Houston from Katz’s, a narrow, standing-room-only restaurant serves incredibly delicious Indian food at cut-rate prices. Customers wait in a line snaking back from the cash register, assessing the row of “100% vegetarian” dishes in the glass display case before them and eyeing the customers that are already wolfing down veggie plates at a skinny counter to their left. You add yourself to this line after you figure out where it ends. Then, after you wait for a couple of minutes, an extremely nice server doesn’t make you feel bad for not knowing the numbered ordering system as well as your fellow diners (all of whom seem to be professional Punjabi food orderers). After this, the kindly worker scoops jasmine rice onto a Styrofoam plate, ladles your chosen entrees on top, and microwaves the whole batch for you.
Once you get your food, you realize that the restaurant is laid out for food consumption, not the desultory chatting that so often distracts us from our dinners. Everyone seems to be in love with their curry. They are in dialogue with their meal.
“Oh my god.”
“Unghhhhh—chana masala.”
“Aaaaahhhhhhnguhh [saag].”
On my first trip (I will be back) I had a plain samosa, a large rice plate with saag, chana masala, and some kind of potato curry, and the cheaper chai option (the internet recommends the ritzier version).
Saag, chick peas, and potato curry. The samosa isn't in this photo because I ate it too quickly.
The saag—rich and complex—was some of the best I’ve ever eaten, and I would characterize the potato curry as “dope.” The chana masala was solid, and the samosa was $1. My dinner companion got a samosa smothered in chick peas, yogurt, and chopped onions ($2-3), and it made me very jealous. Note: a yellowish chutney is freely available in the canisters that line the dining counter, and it should be used judiciously. Overzealous application can overpower the dishes’ delicate flavors. Also note: you will want to sauce up your samosa, especially if it’s unsmothered. Two bottles to the left of the microwave will do you right.
But—are you listening?—here’s the important part: it’s $5 dollars for a big plate of rice with three dishes on top, and the place is open 24/7. THAT’S INSANE. THIS IS NEW YORK. For propriety’s sake, I didn’t title this post ‘DELICIOUS, CHEAP-AS-HELL RESTAURANT OPERATES IN AREA WHERE DRUNKEN REVELERS ROAM,’ but that’s probably the most important piece of information for you to know. Punjabi Grocery and Deli sits at Houston and Ludlow, seven blocks from the East Village’s cheapest watering holes and just north of the Lower East Side’s cheap(ish) bars.
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Where to go:
Punjabi Grocery and Deli
114 E 1st St (between 1st Ave & Ave A)
How to get there:
Take the F to Second Avenue, walk east on Houston. The place is on the north side of the street.