I’ve spent the last week trying to get over a brief but nasty bout with the flu, and as per usual when I get sick, pretty much the only thing I’ve wanted to eat is dumplings in soup. More specifically, jhol momo, which prior to three days ago I hadn’t eaten in months but suddenly had an overwhelming craving for. I managed to drag myself out to Jackson Heights, only to discover that the 37th Road branch of Nepali Bhancha Ghar—formerly my go-to spot for momo—had closed.
At another time, I would have stopped and taken careful stock of my other momo options, which in that neighborhood are virtually endless. It might have occurred to me, for example, that the main restaurant—the 2018 winner of the annual Jackson Heights momo crawl—was located right around the corner, on Roosevelt Avenue, just a few steps away; however, I was famished, and so when I spotted the Amdo momo truck across the street, I headed straight for it and got an order of the beef.
If I remember correctly, the first momo I ever ordered were from Amdo; a decade (?) ago, before Jackson Heights became such a major destination for Himalyan food, a momo truck was still considered somewhat exotic. But the competition has gotten a lot stiffer since then, and while Amdo isn’t exactly bad, the first clue that I was in for a less-than-sublime culinary experience was the fact that I did not have to wait at all for the dumplings to be cooked. Instead, the food was immediately slung into a container, along with an unappealing-looking container of white sauce.
Amdo’s momo were satisfactory… but only just. They were on the doughier side, a texture that I normally like but that in case felt a bit too heavy, and the beef filling was tasty but unexceptional. They were, however, only lukewarm and on the drier side—they lacked the almost soup-dumpling hit of broth that I’d been craving.
After such a lackluster experience, I had to go back and give it another shot. So that was how I ended up sitting in Nepali Bhancha Ghar on Roosevelt Avenue on a Saturday night, still exhausted and more than a little flu-ish but determined to get my jhol momo.
What I did not expect was to find myself in the middle of a dance party.
Apparently, in addition to stellar Himalyan cuisine, the restaurant also features live music on Saturday night (although there do seem to be some kinks in the sound system that need to be worked out; after the set was over, the synthesizer emitted a series of loud and very unpleasant squawks).
The overall mood was remarkably festive and welcoming; although I was sitting half-slumped in a chair, still clad in my hat and jacket while I waited for my takeout order, I actually received several invitations to dance (which, under other circumstances, I very likely would have accepted).
And the momo? They were delicious, exactly what I’d been craving all along. Meaty but also light and pungent, with much thinner skins than Amdo’s. The broth was a complex blend of ginger, turmeric, and chilies, spicy enough to be warming but not overwhelming the other flavors.
I know I’m a little late to the party here, both metaphorically and literally speaking, but I do see what all the fuss is about. Next time I have a craving for momo on a Saturday night, I’ll come ready to dance.