If décor and atmosphere could make up for poor food quality and service, Little Tibet might be worth the trip.
The warm lighting and colorful walls immediately make you feel pleasantly like you’ve just walked into a high-class opium den. Paintings and sculptures of Buddha and bodhisattvas adorn the walls and bar, while dark wooden tables and chairs provide a tastefully austere touch.
The waiters all wore the same “traditional” green Asian-patterned shirt, though our waiter added a backwards baseball cap for flair. This flustered young man seemed helplessly lost in the restaurant’s menu, but was cheerful enough to make up for it.
They were sadly out of the only Tibetan beer they serve, Chang, made from rice and barley, so my friends drank Sapporo, while I took a gamble on the “bod-cha,” or butter tea. Fifteen minutes later, when my beverage arrived in a cute porcelain mug, I realized that I might as well have just melted butter in the microwave and tried to drink it.
About 30 minutes after we had ordered the restaurant started filling up with smiling families and couples, but meanwhile our food still had not arrived and those tastefully austere chairs were starting to feel damned uncomfortable.
The waiter recommended the “shogo mok-ta,” or potato and pea dumplings, as his favorite item on the menu, which we tried for our appetizer. The filling tasted predictably like a veggie samosa, while the outside was more like a gyoza. But hey, it was somewhere between India and Japan, so they were on the right track.
I ordered the one tofu dish on the menu for my main course while my carnivorous assistants tried beef and lamb dishes. Supposedly there was a “tangy sauce seasoned with garlic, ginger and pepper” somewhere on my plate, but mostly it tasted like tomato. Similarly, my friend’s “sha-ngopa” was said to be cooked with “spicy jalapeno, bell pepper ginger, garlic and Tibetan pepper,” but really just tasted like beef and jalapeños.
The main dishes were not bad so much as boring. After five minutes of eating tomatoey-tofu, I started eating white rice just to fill up.
The “sha-ngopa” came with bread that looked much like naan, but was flakier and tastier than naan. Many dishes also come with a “tangtse” salad, a bitter mixture of shredded cabbage and carrot, seasoned with scallions and cilantro.
The menu lists a wide range of dishes, with lots of options for vegetarians. They make several soups, many based on a corn broth, and several noodle dishes using either “hand-pulled” noodles or “traditional Tibetan” noodles.
But your initial excitement at seeing such a large selection fades when you realize that all the dishes sound the same. Most of the main courses are made with “ginger, garlic, onion, and bell pepper,” and those that aren’t are served on a “tangtse” salad, or with a suspiciously vague “tangy sauce.”
By the time our food had come and gone we did not have time for desserts, but both the “desi,” or “sweet basmati rice with raisins and butter served with house made yogurt,” and the “baktsa-markhu,” or “traditional Tibetan sweet cheese pasta,” looked sufficiently intriguing.
If they knocked two to three dollars off the price of entrées Little Tibet might be worthwhile, but as it is skip the pretensions and go to Typhoon.
If you decide to see for yourself, go with a group of friends so you can share your main courses, and hold off on drinks so you can afford to go across the street to Eli’s afterwards. Make sure to check out the mini museum en route to the restrooms.
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