Yuva Frontier Indian Grill in New York City: Restaurant Review

1982. The six o'clock showing of Gandhi at the Main Street theater in Flushing, Queens. I, deciding to have dinner late not having one key bit of information...it's a three hour movie. I remember seeing Sir Ben Kingsley on screen during one of a series of hunger strikes. And now I think if Gandhi had choices like those on the menu at Yuva, located at 58th street between 2nd and 3rd Avenues in Manhattan, his hunger strikes would have failed. He'd have to join Weight Watchers. And the British sun would still be setting on Indja.

Yuva, its full name is Yuva Frontier Indian Grill, is a welcome new addition to what we New Yorkers know as little India of the Upper East Side. Welcome to me not only for its menu choices but its atmosphere. Those who read my opining on restaurants know that my existence makes Sartre's look like Betty White's Golden Girls character of Rose, so I demand a place transport me, get my imagination going. Yuva does.

As you step into the door, (I love restaurants where you have to step down...very illicit), you're most likely to be greeted by owners Kedar and Hritu Shah, hands on owners, who don't just seat you. The Shahs will come to your table several times during a meal and not just to ask how it is but to offer to serve you, all the while never losing their owner aura, but never arrogant. I imagine they are how Rick would have been in Casablanca, and this is how his Café Americain would be, that is if Rick were Indian and his café were in India. Yes, I know there is a vast difference between Africa and India, and I'm being the ugly American mixing them up. What can I say? My people gave you plastic slip covers and polyester. Cut me some slack.

So where was I? You step down and immediatley see the dark, rich hardwood floor, low electric light accented by individual table candles in burnt orange gels. Your nose then catches the musky incense as you walk further down the long dining area, with its white linen tablecloths and white modern design dishware. In the back, in a glass booth, a chef makes bread, those many wonderful indian breads: poori, naan, onion kulcha. My advice, start off with an order of naan to partake in the sauce tray that is given complimentary and another order for your meal.

And the food? I'm a tandoori fiend. So I usually go for the Chicken Tikki Masala, slow roasted chicken marinated in a tomato and cream sauce. Gahndi, how could you not eat this? You may want to try the lamb. Go far the Gosht Vindaloo. Lamb in wine and spices and spicy enough to make Paris Hilton's internet hijinks seem cool. Okay, it's a grill. But you can grill vegtables too. If I'm not feeling carnivore, which is seldom, I need veggies that eat like meat. Then, I go for the Malai Koft, a substantial homemade cheese with vegatable croquettes in a cream sauce. And all of it needs a side of slow cooked cumin rice.

What's that? Maybe I kvell too much? Can I find a flaw? It wasn't 1983, but April of 2007. Thanks to Match.com, I was with a thirtysomething woman at Yuva. We ordered. Time passed. More time passed. Still more time passed. My dinner companion said, "I think I'm going to draw social security before this food comes, which is probably going to be bankrupt anyway by then. So I'm saying my food is never going to come." Points for wit. All points lost for misplaced arrogance. Yes, the service can take a while. And during that time, you will be polled for drinks. But to Yuva's defense, Tandoori style takes time that's why it's so good. Yes, it can be a bit pricey, but the size of the drinks softens that.

If you have to start on Manhattan's Upper East Side Indian row, Yuva would serve you well. And if you want to know how my date turned out, I'm asking for my money back from Match.com. I'll get more fulfillment giving it to Yuv