The forces that be decided that I should be unemployed for a little while. There are very few times in life where you don’t have any responsibility. It just doesn’t happen that often. Either you are in school or you’re working. You have bills to the pay. You need to take care of children. You need to get the car fixed. The hot water tank needs replacing.  The toilet leaks. And while all of this going on, secretly, you wish you could “just be”, without having to answer to someone or something.  

Alas, finally, I get to do nothing. Except travel, drink beer and eat curry.

Like so many hopeful immigrants over the years, I put my life savings in my pocket and booked a flight to New York City to start a new life. Except I only planned on staying 6 days and 7 nights in a cramped Manhattan hotel room, rather than 50 years in some rat infested ghetto in the Bronx or Brooklyn. Also, my spoken English is probably substantially better than most of the immigrants who arrived at Ellis Island.

Somewhere between exploring the five boroughs and wondering which house Dr. Huxtable lives in, I became hungry. While there’s certainly no lack of Indian fare on the island of Manhattan, I was convinced I was going to find and immerse myself in Little India. That meant a subway ride to Jackson Heights in Queens which is packed full of curry houses and sari shops. The most renowned restaurant in Jackson Heights is the Jackson Diner, which bucks the “bridge and tunnel” trend and sees many a Manhattanite venturing into the neighborhood for curry.

Even though New York City public health seems reasonably proactive, I imagined a lot of really dodgy, unkept curry shops existed in the neighbourhood. This was clearly not the case with Jackson Diner. My dining guest (my sister) and I were put at ease by the inviting décor. Also, I think my sister was really worried that I was going to take her somewhere she wouldn’t be able to read the menu. All these fears were soon comforted when we sat down and noted the multi-ethnic cliental.

As we perused the menu, we were presented with 3 pappadums and a tray of numerous sauces. In previous reviews of Jackson Diner, I had read that the sauces were recycled between tables. I didn’t necessarily see evidence of that, but maybe I had my head in the sand. Sometimes it’s better not to know. The waiter asked us for drink orders and I noted the large list of Indian inspired alcohol beverages including the “Agra Colada” and various Mango-tinis. But really, there’s no need to get all Sex and the City with curry.  Best to stick with the old stand-by, the Mango Lassi. Unfortunately the lassi came packed with ice. Minus 1.

For appetizers, we ordered the crab cake samosas. I haven’t had a lot of success with crab curry (See Mirch Masala) but at least this one wouldn’t have an exoskeleton to plow through. When we bit into Jackson Diner’s samosas, neither of us was too impressed by the crab meat or the encapsulating batter; both seemed a little burnt. The accompanying tamarind sauce didn’t really help. Really, it needed to be a spicy garlic mayonnaise to counteract the charcoal taste. Plus mayo goes well with crab. But if we’re really being honest, outside of shrimps, crustaceans have no business in Indian cuisine at all. The next chef who tries to serve me a Barnacle Vindaloo is gonna get punched in the head.

My sister ordered Lamb Korma and I went with Fish Curry. We also got rice and naan, which I sensed had been left in the tandoor a tad too long. But maybe that’s to be expected in a busy restaurant like this. When our entrees came we were amazed by the gigantic portion size. It’s true that Americans tend to over-eat and I think common consumer demand probably played a role in the platter sizes. One entrée at the Jackson Diner is more than enough food, even for fatties like Ren.

I’d like to applaud this restaurant for doing something all Indian restaurants should be doing: Free Dhal with your meal. I never order Dhal because it’s usually at least a 9 dollar dish for something that I know costs 20 cents to make. Seriously people, we’re talking about lentils. The poorest people in India, living on a salary of pennies a day, eat 3 meals of Dhal a day.  I think my 25 dollar Tikka Masala probably covers your prep costs.  Keep watching our website for “FREE DHAL FOR EVERYONE” T-shirts, coming soon. If you can dream it, it can become a reality. Together, we can make to world a better place.

My sister’s Lamba Korma was decent and she enjoyed it. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it tasted like goat. Where Jackson Diner really shines (outside of lentils), is with their Fish Curry.  Whoever cooked my curry, could easily teach some the country’s best seafood restaurants a trick or two about cooking fish. The mounds of fish looked crispy but flakily separated with the slightest maneuvering with my utensil. Cooked, but not burned nor rubbery. Fantastic.

At the end of the meal, we had an embarrassing amount of food on our table. We both felt like we were pregnant with “food babies”.  We left the restaurant and walked around the various Punjabi grocers and video stores in neighborhood until it got too dark and we started to grow a little weary of the shadows.

Ultimately, Jackson Diner is a decent place to go if you want to experience Little India and get away from the hustle and bustle of “the city”. The food is decent but outside of my fish, not amazingly phenomenal. It makes a good argument for a strong 7.5, but maybe not quite an eight.  That being said, this website only deals with integers.

Jackson scores a 7.

Rating: