Indian Food at Panna II

Rolled out for some Indian tonight with Courtney and her buddies, Jim and Tanner. It was fun to get out of the house; it'd been a while since I set foot in the East Village. At any rate, we headed to Panna II on 1st Ave. - a train wreck of a place festooned with string lights and other decorative atrocities, and headily hawked by crazed Indians waiting outside like rabid wombats. I guess they have to lure the customers in; there are three Indian restaurants in the same bloody building, and apparently the one we went to is the best of the bunch.

Food was good. (shrug) Nothing too outstanding. I could have taken pictures of the well-fried samosas, or the crispy, oily naan, or the aggressively tasty vindaloo. But good as it all was, nothing stood out in particular... nothing, that is, except for the butter chicken.


I giggled with delight when it arrived. That, my friends, is a chunk of butter stuck in the sauce. Apparently, "butter chicken" is code for "tikka masala with a hunk of butter tossed onto the plate". How blatant is that? It's like they're outright saying "Just in case you had any doubts, butter is what makes everything taste good."

Funny thing is, they're right. Mmm. Butter.