I've eaten tandoori while driving and samosa in bed. I've made entire meals of naan and puri and yogurt. During a brief stint as an unwilling vegetarian (I did it for a girl, mostly because the only thing on earth better than pork is pussy, and I had to give up one or the other), I lived on Indian food and died a little bit every time I saw a texturized vegetable protein not-loaf or slab of Tofurkey in the oven.
On tap for this week: a late-night dinner at Jewel of India, a cultish little northern Indian restaurant up in Westminster where the only thing better than the service is everything on the menu. And in Second Helping, I offer another look at one of my favorite Indian restaurants, Star of India. Read the full reviews here Wednesday afternoon, or when the paper hits the street. -- Jason Sheehan
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