Please allow me to introduce myself

I was raised on wide triangular slices of pizza in Howard Beach, New York. On Sunday, we had dim sum in Chinatown; on weekdays, we washed down knishes and Nathan’s hot dogs with Dr. Brown’s cream sodas. I was a happy child.

That changed temporarily when, in 1988, my family moved to the Hudson Valley. I had an accent that could etch glass and thought that horses didn’t exist outside of petting zoos and Central Park. I was very confused. Since we didn’t yet know the area, most of our meals were eaten at home, where my Irish mother cooked Italian in the style of my father’s family — parmesan-everything.

After graduation, I lived in Oregon for six years, attending college where fresh Chinook salmon, hazelnuts, Marionberries, Pinot noir and tons of Thai and Japanese foods expanded my palate’s repertoire. Traveling home for winter breaks and summers, I went on several cross-country road trips, eating my way across the 48 continental states: In-n-Out animal-style burgers in California, green chili salsa and biscochittos in New Mexico, barbecue ribs and pulled pork in Texas, crawfish po’boys in Louisiana, Sonic’s crème pie shakes and cherry limeades in the Carolinas and Culver’s deep-fried cheese curds in Wisconsin.

Due to a once-in-a-lifetime cash windfall, I spent a month in Europe, eating. The memory of thick black truffle risotto in Italy still makes my mouth water; I had a near-religious experience with a buttery tarte amandine in France, a follow-up to chicken with crushed black peppercorns and fresh mayonnaise on a crusty baguette. London was expensive, but the chips (fries) with vinegar were reasonable, plentiful and served warm and crispy every time.

With a few notable exceptions, the memorable meals I’ve had have cost under $10. Maybe it’s just that nothing tastes better than a bargain but, as I continue to rack up dining experiences, I realize that you don’t have to pay a lot to get great food — and a lot of it, for that matter. My goal in this column will be to highlight some restaurants, delis, grocery stores, stands, carts, cafeterias and other eateries where you can get delicious food for an exciting price.

Oh, and I’ve always preferred candlelit dinners to long walks on the beach.

Now that we’re finished getting acquainted, I assure you it will be all business from here on out:

Krishna Groceries on Route 9 in Poughkeepsie is hidden in plain view — the red and white building just north of Half Time beverage center is the kind of place you can wonder about in passing for years (I did.) and never explore (I didn’t.). However, one fateful Friday, the sign proclaiming a masala dosa special caught my eye and the timing lured me in. Now, I’m hooked.

The family-run grocery and chaat house has been open for five years. The grocery sells spices, lentils and rice products, in addition to exotic snack items; the chaat house features authentic Indian foods made on the premises for take-out only.

I’ll admit that, though I was enticed by the masala dosa special ($3.50), I had no idea what I was getting when I ordered it. What I got, after a short wait while it was being freshly prepared, was a thin savory pancake, the size of a large dinner plate, folded in half to contain a generous dollop of mashed potato mixed with yellow split pea, onion, green chilies, mustard seeds and curry leaves. As a bonus, each dosa comes with a cup of soup — lentil with curry leaves and a bouquet of spices both fragrant and warming.

Yes, warming does mean spicy. Indian food is not for the faint of taste bud. “Masala” means a mix of spices; the masala dishes at Krishna all contain different amalgamations of Indian seasonings that may include, but are not limited to: cumin seeds, coriander, mango powder, green chilies, salt, pepper, chili pepper, garam masala, curry powder, curry leaves… and surprises. If you do not like surprises of the spicy variety, you may want to proceed with caution. I, for one, do not mind chancing a tear or two at the dinner table.

The masala dosa is sublime, but my favorite is the large samosa ($1), which to me tastes like Indian comfort food. Like the dosa, it is mashed potatoes with veggies (peas) and spices, wrapped in a pastry shell and fried until golden-brown and slightly crispy at the seams. Cooked in canola oil, the samosas are surprisingly not greasy, but they are heavy — I could make a full meal of two. They are hotter than the dosa; cumin seeds, coriander, green chilies and garam masala give them a pungent spicy smell. Two different chutneys can accompany the samaosas: sweet red tamarind chutney, which cuts the masala, or spicy green chili, coriander and lemon juice, which turns the heat up to 11.

Less intense are a wide variety of dals and soups; each one I’ve tried, I’ve loved. Thus far, my favorites are the yellow channa dal with chunks of succulent squash and the black-eyed bean soup, which is made about once a week, usually on Sunday. There are also terrific masala vegetables to be had—even okra, which I typically find to be just this side of palatable, is terrific in okra (bhindi) masala, with the spices somehow tempering the vegetable’s sliminess. It has become a coveted side dish at my house.

For those who would like a sampling of fare, the vegetarian platter ($3.50) and the non-vegetarian platter ($4.50) for meat-eaters are good places to start. Containers of traditional Indian sweets from New York City ($5.99) round out the experience. The Bengali Mix, with a survey of sweets composed of paneer cheese, sugar, coconut, milk and pistachios is a good introduction to Indian desserts. My favorite is gulab jamun, a dense solid milk ball laden with sugar syrup, sweet to the point of decadence. Another treat is a cool mango lassi, a yogurt-based drink that is a good way to cut the heat during or after a meal.

Megan Labrise

(Orig. pub. date: Feb. 14, 2007)