Bombay Talkie's presence amid a nondescript cluster of shops on Ninth Avenue in Chelsea is a testament to the depth and quality of the dining scene in the city today. The walls are painted with murals of colorful Mumbai movie stars. An LCD monitor glows over the sleek little bar downstairs, so you can contemplate an endless loop of Bollywood movies as you sip cocktails tinged with pomegranate juice. The food is straightforward Indian (as opposed to wacky Indian fusion), with big, curling dosas from the south, a reasonably fiery pork vindaloo from Goa, and a whole amalgam of chats, naans, and kathi rolls designed to evoke the vibrant universe of Indian street food. To this end, there is a “street bites” section on the menu, a “curbside” section, and one called “by the roadside.” You can take the edge off these moderately fiery dishes with several temperate desserts, like carrot halwa, and an excellent selection of ice creams and gelati. — Rob Patronite and Robin Raisfeld
I was recently at Bombay Talkie to celebrate a friends birthday and i just loved the service there. The food tastes great and the people are nice. I recomended this place to all my friends in NY and they also loved it. They said everything was great and one of my friends was even delighted with the delivery service. He said the delivery boy was fast, polite, and respectful. I am in love with Bombay Talkie and there is no doubt that when i move there i will be your customer.
En route to Co. just past the estates along Ninth, we couldn't resist the charming two-storey house with warm candlelight flickering through the windows. Expecting yet another haute barnyard eatery, we were pleasantly intrigued by the high-tech Bollywood film displays, just like the cheap, cheerful Sitaaray in London's Covent Garden. The "Beggar's Purse" (Papdi Chat) starter was nearly faultless - small, crispy parcels of (albeit refrigerator-cold) smooth chickpea and potato puree with a mouthwatering tamarind yoghurt topping - while the dosa, though not a patch on the wafer-thin ones you get in Kerala, came with a delicious trio of sambar, green and red coconut chutneys. But it was all downhill from there: $22 for a dry tandoori Mahi Mahi, a third of which was unappetizing bloodline, served with an enormous pile of pilau, and a stingy $6 side of beetroot slices swimming in grease. $65 the poorer (two starters, a main, a side and a couple beers), on the way out we spied a pile of the yet-unseen prix fixe menus, a relative steal at $25/3 courses and a glass of wine.