Our visit to Chutney was unique and memorable, though not in a good way. On the positive side, the menu is extensive and suggests that someone involved really knows Indian cooking. The South Indian favorites we ordered were competently rendered, well spiced, and lacking of excessive ghee. Ghee can be an easy crowd-pleaser and gets abused, so I appreciate attempts to make tasty food with moderate ghee. The experience, however, was marred by poor service: our waiter barely suppressed her laughter as she took our order, suggested that my wife would be happier with the Indian equivalent of chicken strips, and then with no further indication of what might be happening, disappeared for the next two hours. Yes, two hours. In that time, customers at other tables arrived, dined, and departed. At one point the restaurant even reached capacity, creating for us a puzzling mix of apparent function and abject dysfunction that was never explained. Other highlights included the din of the televisions; the hypnotic beep of the restaurant's alarm system; a poster featuring Mohandas K. Gandhi's advice on customer service; and an anonymous, but framed, pencil drawing.
If you go, be prepared for an adventure.
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