Inspired by the charms of Palacinka, I dropped in on Omjavi (112 Chambers Street; 732-1949). This spacious Jamaican restaurant has a wide-ranging menu that features the likes of cow foot, jerk chicken, ackee and salt fish, and cow-cod soup (ranging from $6 to $10), but I was there to eat rotis. Sitting beneath a huge mural of bright Jamaican landscapes, I discovered a curry-vegetable roti ($5), in which spinach, carrots, onions, or cabbage -- your choice -- are crisp and fresh and swathed in a flatbread as big as a tabloid, and which is very, very good news. The curry-goat roti ($5) was also flawless, if monotonously meaty alongside its vegetarian counterpart. Which is not to say that the meat was anything other than excellent: tender, yet still chewy enough to give you that slight workout of the jaw muscles that goat properly demands. The curry in both of the rotis was mild and complemented the sweet fried plantains ($2), which in turn went down very well with an order of rice and "peas" (i.e., red beans).

Omjavi was uncrowded the night I went there, but it is pretty clear that this TriBeCa haunt, with its attentive staff, cavernous interior, and unique character, would make a great place to have a party. If the music videos playing on the TV screens are anything to go by, expect rap.

Omjavi is open Monday through Wednesday 11 a.m. to 8 p.m., Thursday and Friday till 11 p.m., and Saturday 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. All major credit cards accepted.

On something of a roll, as it were, the Underground Gourmet headed for one of his favorite spots in Manhattan, the gritty, potpourri West Thirties, the location of one his favorite exemplars of a cuisine that bundles food with a savvy vengeance -- Mexican. Los Dos Rancheros Mexicanos (507 Ninth Avenue, at 39th Street; 868-7780) is a no-frills place that immediately distinguishes itself by the three superb salsas that come with slightly greasy but reassuringly homemade fried tortilla chips: a salsa fresca that has loads of cilantro, a bite of jalapeño, and garlic galore; a very smoky, very luxurious chipotle purée (it's a rare treat to have this served as a dip: If it doesn't appear as a matter of course, ask for it and the staff will oblige); and a tomatillo salsa, which is tangy and snappy with lime and cilantro.

The tacos are good here -- make that great: soft corn tortillas piled high with slivers of grilled chicken or chorizo (nicely hot), with onions and cilantro ($2). This is cheap, but the tostadas are an even better deal. For $2, you get, in addition to the corn tortilla (fried crispy, of course), a really thin layer (thin is good) of black refried beans with your meat of choice, salad, salsa, and a sprinkling of white cheddar. This value makes the flautas (a steep $8) not the most cost-effective way of getting your fill of rice and beans. On the other hand, the enchiladas verdes also cost $8, but with their zippy sauce and pillowy cheese have that something extra that makes them worth every penny.

The food here is so engrossing -- and let's not forget the beer, which at $2 a bottle of Corona is as cheap as you'll find in any Manhattan restaurant -- that it is only in the postprandial bliss-out that one fully appreciates the charm of the environment. There is a füssball table (sluggish and missing one ball, but playable), a jukebox (which, if you're not careful, will drown out your conversation), murals (low-key), and mainly Hispanic patrons (also low-key). Table service is an unhurried, friendly, Spanish-language affair. Sit back with a mamey batidas milkshake ($3), banish any thoughts of smoothies, and consider the day a wrap.

Los Dos Rancheros Mexicanos is open seven days a week from 11 a.m. to 10.30 p.m. Cash only.

Related:

• Archive: “The Underground Gourmet”
• Articles by Joseph O'neill
• Table of Contents: May 17, 1999 issue of New York | Subscribe!