I have been eating at this restaurant, Taste of India, in the university district in Seattle for a number of years.
Obviously I like the food. In fact it was an "Eureka!" moment for me when I ate my first meal there and my craving for Indian cuisine, authentic Indian cuisine, was satisfied after numerous disappointments with what passes for Indian food so often in the US: the Chicken Tikka that is only brushed with a synthetic orange color dye and has never been inside a tandoori oven, the naans that are more tortillas than naan, the curries so bland that they could be barbeque sauce. Not that tortillas and barbeque sauce don't have their merits, but, no matter how disguised, they couldn't convince as Indian food a palate that had been hooked on Indian food cooked by Indians in Indian households in Trinidad or by Indian hawkers there and by Indian friends and cooks in Malaysia.
It is no wonder that this unpretentious restaurant, tucked almost unnoticeable among old, small buildings housing sundry small businesses and old small houses of an earlier era (it is actually one of them, garage included, converted into a restaurant) has won a prestigious Zagat award. The food is really that good.
But what brings me back is also the staff and attitude there, and as satisfactory as the service always is, today's incident surpassed all my previous experiences.
It was by itself a small gesture, but far above expectations. I had stopped by on this very gray, chilly, wet Seattle afternoon to order some takeout food to eat at home.
As I sat in the restaurant waiting for my order, my wife stayed in the car in the parking lot, some distance from the entrance. The young host offered me chai, then water but I declined. After a few minutes he offered me beverages again, and after some persuasion I settled on a decaffeinated coffee, which he had to brew especially for me because most customers prefer regular coffee, I suppose. After serving me mine he asked what my wife out in the car would like. I was surprised because he could not easily see my car from his station.
I requested a decaf coffee for her. He brewed that cup and I thought he would give it to me to take out to my wife. But, after asking me if she took sugar in her coffee, he went outside in the rain to my car and served her her coffee. He had even thoughtfully poured the coffee into a disposable cup so she could drive off and finish it in the car. He did all of this in the most matter of fact way.
I think that after that, even if the food weren't so good, I'd keep going back to the Taste of India.
