Fah-yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuusion

Himalayan Fusion

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Death to Fusion (the fusing of Some Asian Cuisine with a helping of Pretentiousness) and the horrible gastronomy it has created. At least at some restaurants the bizarre blend leads to delicious food, served with as much arrogance as can possibly be squeezed out of some blonde bimbette that's now convinced she's made it in the waitressing world. Why? Because she's serving Fusion Food, of course. The status. The charm. The life. It's the top of the fucking food chain.

But no, Himalayan Fusion couldn't even do that. Poor food paired with worse service, leading to a fusion of two shitty things into one, even shittier restaurant. I'm being harsh, but it's completely deserved. The other places I've given piss poor reviews have been fairly inexpensive. Himalayan Fusion gives the worst experience at an outrageous price no less - coming to over $25/person for routine Indian food. Somebody has to stop this from happening.

Food rundown:
1) Veggie samosas - burnt on the corners, too much dough was used causing this weird chewy/crunchy texture that made it taste, if anything, stale. The samosa was far to heavy on the salt, which seemed to have crystalized in the cooking process. No sauces - well, that's a lie. Two shmears of sauce, roughly enough for one bite each, sat on the plate.
2) Naan - made from pizza dough. Acceptably good as bread, a horrible substitute for Naan. Burnt, stretchy, way too chewy. Where's the fluffy Naan lightness?
3) Rice - mushy. Just mushy.
4) Chicken Tikka Masala - no spice. That's fine, but if you're gonna do a mild dish, the Masala sweetness has to be there to back the dish up. It wasn't. The chicken "cubes" were so overcooked, they actually had the texture of biting into a tire.
5) Lamb Vindaloo - the menu warns you away because it's spic(e)y hot. It's not. So much for that.

I frankly wanted to get over the poor food just so I could get to the ridiculous, atrocious service. Now in narrative form!


When we walked in, we were granted by a frantic and apologetic host, who didn't quite seem to know what he was doing. It's ok, I've had that experience dozens of times, where suddenly I find myself working at a Fusion restaurant thinking "what am I doing here? Who am I?" Then I wake up in a cold sweat, angry that I couldn't seat that last customer before my alarm reminded me I have class to go. I felt a tinge of sympathy that this host would not be waking up any time soon. Instead he worked this weird back and forth between the reservation podium and the outside seating (to make sure people hadn't skipped on their bill? I guess?) flustered and out of breath, knocking into diners and those waiting to dine alike. As he was about to offer us a table immediately next to the door outside (which had the misfortune of being both by the cold, as well as in our host's bumbling line of fire for bumps, jolts, and spilled drinks), we told him we didn't mind waiting for another table to open. One did - immediately by the restroom and the exposed kitchen. A glance inside showed a kitchen of Mexican cooks. Just say it over and over again. Fusion.

The company was good so I frankly don't remember how long we waited for service, but it came at some point and we ordered. Then there was a snafu. We didn't order drinks, which was a combination of our oversight and the waitress'. Let me establish that at this point I don't hate her yet. When she comes back around, we ask for the drink menus back and she returns. Here's where things start getting a little weird.
My friend had already ordered the Vindaloo. She was looking at red wines that would stand up to (what the menu had promised) extreme spice! That would actually be a great Indian Sports Drink. Extreme Spice! Or, conversely, Spice Extreme!
So when the waitress comes over, and my friend asks for help in narrowing down the list of reds to a particular selection, the waitress was remarkably helpful. In selecting a Riesling. Oh yeah, totally fruity and chilled and it'll calm down the Spice Extreme!(TM) in your Vindaloo. Definitely get the Riesling. I think.

After ordering a Syrah, our Samosas arrived. See above for complaints on the actual food. Service-wise, we hadn't even finished the appetizer when the entrees came. -10 points people. I don't mind waiting a little extra time if it means I'm not rushed. If I'm in a hurry, I'll tell you. At the end of the day, cluttering my table with 3 courses at once just means I'm putting on more weight than necessary.

I can't stress this enough, it's a huge pet peeve. When the entree comes while you're still eating the appetizer, it means poor communication between the kitchen and the front of the house. It's a typical and unwanted sign of mismanagement and confusion, and the one that suffers is the diner.

We ate our meal (again see above for complaints). As we were eating, I caught the waitress out of the corner of my eye, holding the check, staring at our table intently. She stood there for a solid 3 minutes, as though she had nothing else to do. I try to communicate this to my friend without moving my lips (in case she could make out the words). Eventually, she comes over, and asks if my friend would like hers to go. Earlier, things got weird. Now things got ugly.

A quick background: Indian food, nearly everywhere that I've had it, is served in a couple of different dishes. There's a plate of rice, the dish holding in this case Vindaloo, and an empty plate to mix before eating. The rice dish was empty, but my friend had food both on her plate and in the little bronze dish. So when my friend said, yes, she would very much like the rest of her food to-go, we were kind of perplexed as to why the waitress only took the plate, and not the bronze dish, with her. Was she not going to pack half of the food? Why were they being separated? Wasn't it all going to the same place?

She comes back with a large brown bag, a small Styrofoam cup, and no plate. And throws the packing supplies down at the table, without a word, before turning her back and leaving. So half of the meal had been trashed. And the other half we were going to pack ourselves. It was certainly an adventure. Before you say "you're too pretentious, haven't you packed your own doggie bag at a restaurant before?" let me answer you. Yes, I have. But I've never paid $28 for the pleasure.

We tipped poorly and left, never to return again.

-M.