That Traveling Couple

Elysia and I are freaks when it comes to Indian food.

We eat Indian in every country we visit.

We love it.

I have a hyper sensitivity to the combination of spice and flavor in my curry, an obsession with the tenderness of my, in the best cases real Tandoor cooked meat, and a partiality to the perfect texture of great Naan.

Unfortunately, our experience at the New Jawad on Avenue Rapp in Paris allowed me to indulge none of these passions.

We were pleased on arriving to see the restaurant well crowded with seemingly upper class folk for a Tuesday night, and after being greeted by our friendly Parisian Indian hosts, we sat down expecting big things.

I quickly ordered my staple for first time at a new Indian restaurant. Butter Chicken, regular Naan, and a serving of Basmati.

Elysia ordered her typical Paneer, not the Palak that would be her normal choice, but another seemingly similar dish, unfortunately not privy to the meaning of the french word “pois” which may have otherwise influenced her decision.

Incredibly, our meals arrived not more than 5 minutes after placing our order!

As excited as this makes an empty hungry stomach, a fast meal must always be met with appropriate suspicion, as in this case, turned out to be well founded.

Our curiosity over the word “pois” was quelled when Elysia got handed her curry, 90% of which was peas, splattered with what we are fairly certain was Philadelphia cream cheese; a distant leap from the delicious home made cottage variety regularly associated with the word Paneer.

My Butter Chicken on the other hand was visually delicious. It took it hitting the taste buds to realize that it had not spice or flavor, and the chicken was as dry as you’d expect a chicken to be that had been sitting out waiting for someone to order it. Amazingly the sauce was so boring that it even ruined my favorite part of the meal, dipping the Naan in my curry to top things off.
In fairness, despite having to be enjoyed sauceless, The New Jawad’s Naan was of decent quality.

To top it off it was, being Paris, the most expensive Indian we’ve ever had too, making the cut that little bit deeper.

Like I said to Elysia as we left, serving me bad Indian I take as a personal slap in the face. We left unfulfilled and… I’ll be honest, borderline angry.

If you’re in the area and you’re considering it, we say give the New Jawad a miss.

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