The Jersey City Independent "

American Masala is a study in contradictions: The two elements of its name seem incongruous, the space is incongruous with the service and the décor is incongruous with the food. But you know what? None of that matters when the food is good. Maybe not quite India Square good, but definite competition for the Indo-Pak joints on Grove Street good.

And the bonus? It’s pretty affordable. My two dining companions and I each had an entree, generously portioned side dish and drink and shared a dessert for about $13 a person. Sure, it’s no $0.75 samosa (for which I will always be a loyal friend to Shadman on Grove, which has sated many an acute hunger pang as I dragged myself home from the PATH after a long day), but then you’re usually not in this setting when you’re eating a $0.75 samosa and you usually can’t hop next door for a drink on the Iron Monkey’s roof deck, either.

Let it not be thought that it’s American Masala’s tactically whimsical furniture than won me over. In fact, it was the furniture that at first made me skeptical; they tout the high-end designers and manufacturers in a way that reminded me of nothing so much as Nüni and the Toast Chair (Saturday Night Live fans will get this. Apologies to everyone else.) and made me wonder how authentic an Indian food experience I was in for. The interior is clearly designed to appeal to the businesspeople on the waterfront and the influx of high-rise denizens — they’re going for luxe. I worried: Would the food be watered down to woo as many potential customers as possible into the loft-like space? Because I need my chiles.

Thankfully, the answer is no. There are some menu items you might not find in India Square — good items — and the occasional misstep, but overall Masala delivers solid, deeply flavorful, well-prepared fresh food, and they don’t skimp on the chiles. The owner and executive chef both have New York’s Devi, a Michelin-star rated Indian restaurant, in their pedigrees.

After ordering at the counter, a strange experience in a restaurant that works so hard to present itself as high-end, we got a number and took a table near a wall of windows overlooking Greene Street, settling ourselves into the strangely neoprene-esque chairs. The people-watching wasn’t so hot; it was a bit late for lunch and Masala hadn’t yet had its “official” grand opening and was pretty empty, so my companions and I were forced to interact with one another. Luckily, food soon made its way out: a lamb burger and a side of yellow dal for me, shrimp curry and potato saag for one friend, a spicy pea paneer and Kachoombar salad for the other and a shared slice of pistachio-cardamom cake. Entrees come with one complimentary condiment, so we snagged a selection: tamarind chutney, toasted cumin raita and cilantro-mint chutney.

The cake, for whatever reason, came out first. Note to the person in charge of these things: if you’re going to do table service, it would be helpful if it bore a modicum of normality to normal service; if you want to be a pick-up joint, stick with that. I’m just saying.

That’s not to say we didn’t eat it when it arrived. I may critique for the sake of others, but if there’s cake around I’m eating it. It was moist, not too sweet or too dense and studded with nuts. Note to the baker: more cardamom and less cloying frosting next time, please, and you’ll have a winner on your hands. Up the ante, and I’ll order another slice to eat after my meal.

The rest of the food followed quickly. The lamb burger was excellent. Piled on fresh tomatoes, cucumbers and copious amounts of red onion, some of which you’ll remove if you plan on kissing anyone within the next 36 hours, and dressed with raita, it was LAMB. I mean, obviously it was lamb; it is, after all, a “lamb burger.” But this is no sissy lamb. This is gamey, in your face meat that declares I AM LAMB, TAKE THAT. It was moist and well-seasoned, and its intense flavor was perfectly balanced by the freshness of the cucumber, the cooling raita and sharp onion. Dipping it into the cilantro-mint sauce only improved it, as did the chip-like shoestring fries that come alongside (which are fantastic as a vehicle for the cumin raita).

The low point of my selections was the dal, a sadly bland and sadly hued watery concoction that had clearly missed its turn at the salting station. I manfully ate several large spoonfuls despite the fact that I (1) am not a man and (2) didn’t really like it. We tried saving it by mixing it with our collection of condiments, but all it did was make the condiments themselves bland (which I suppose is a kind of feat in and of itself). A little seasoning could have gone a long way here but alack, by the time it reached us it was too far gone to save.

This was not so for any other dishes, though, so I chalk the dal up to an aberration that is easily fixed.

After the lamb burger, which was unanimously voted the table favorite, came the shrimp curry, a chef’s special for the day (there’s a rotating roster of standard menu items along with six or seven specials available each day). Although the shrimp were a tad overcooked (my dining-mates might quibble with “tad,” but I stick by it), the sauce was addictively wonderful, and we all used torn-off pieces of the roti that accompanied the forlorn dal to scoop up as much of it as we could. The red chiles were in evidence, along with strong hits of cumin, cardamom, cayenne, bay and what I think were kaffir lime leaves.

It was insistently but not overbearingly spicy, and redolent of the kind of spice blend that makes Indian cuisine so wonderful. Both the rice and roti were excellent vehicles for the sauce, and by lunch’s end there was nothing left but a few discarded lime leaves. The saag was similarly well-done. Richly creamy and deep green — there are few things sadder than spinach that has been cooked to death and cries uncle by turning brown — it remained partially eaten only because of the strength of all the main dishes and the portion sizes.

The paneer was nearly as good as the shrimp curry and better executed — then again, there was no delicate seafood to overcook, so I guess it loses some points for difficulty. Spicy and studded with masses of sweet peas (also not cooked unto death), it was difficult to tear away from the person who’d ordered it so we could all have a go.

Although it was wonderful, it was the side he ordered — the Kachoombar salad — that was the real revelation. Fresh hunks of perfectly ripe avocado paired surprisingly well with the crisp tartness of Granny Smith apples and radishes and the sweet acidity of tomatoes. Some red onion kept things from going off the savory deep into the land of the sweet, as did a vinegary dressing that pulled the whole thing together. Like all the other sides, it was a heaping bowlful easily shared by three people and one that would make a great light lunch on its own, with the generous amount of avocado.

There were so few missed dishes that one of the few things that could have made this better would have been a cold, thickly fruity mango lassi. (Hint, hint.) For the price point, the food is solidly above average, and a meal with a side will likely provide two meals for a normal eater.

American Masala was originally open only for lunch but now serves a limited menu 2:30 through 5:30, when they open for dinner; there’s a happy hour as well. It looks to be a great spot for quick business lunches as well as a nice lower-priced addition to the dinner scene; fill your gut with affordably priced Indian to sop up all the pale ale you’ll be drinking at any of the nearby watering holes. The portion sizes make it easy to eat tapas-style, with mains and sides providing enough for everyone to have more than just a taste, and there’s ample outdoor seating during good weather.

For those not as fortunate to have my proximity, note that parking can be a pain in the ass in Paulus Hook; take a pass and hop on the Light Rail to Essex Street. Personally, those eight blocks are a difficult journey past the siren song of a bag of inexpensive samosas, but I’ll definitely be dragging myself down to 95 Greene St. for another meal at American Masala.

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American Masala
95 Greene St.
201-721-6603
www.americanmasala.com

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