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Curb enthusiasm
PHOTO BY ROB BARTLETT CURB ENTHUSIASM
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Kathi Rolls on Curry Ford Road makes great street eats, suitable for in-car snacking or reheating
BY FAIYAZ KARA
KATHI ROLLS 4205 Curry Ford Road 407-866-0007 kathirollsorlando.com $ Y ou can’t help but worry for all the independent, chef-run and momand-pop restaurants out there. The times are not being kind to them, but even while staring the very real possibility of closure in the face, these businesses show a resilience and creativity that’s nothing short of inspiring. Necessity is the mother of invention, sure, but these past few weeks, it seems like desperation’s been the bad dad of innovation. Almost overnight, we’ve seen plucky businesses turn into drive-in restaurants, makeshift grocery stores, food delivery companies, bulk food operators, online merchants and farmers markets. Makes you wonder if these add-on services will be offered in the post-COVID-19 era. I sure as hell hope so, particularly the driveup curbside service. I gotta tell ya, I’m a pretty big fan of the curbside service. Pretty, pretty, pretty big fan.
Kathi Rolls on Curry Ford Road initiated me into this brave new world of dining (and odd new world of restaurant reviewing). This is the first of what I hope aren’t very many such parking-lot dining appraisals but, well, see note above re: desperation. That said, it’s hard to be objective, let alone critical, at a time when an entire industry on the verge of imploding needs our support, not our judgment.
The honest truth is that Kathi Rolls not only needs our support, they deserve it. Chef Shantanu Sen’s Indian street fare is every bit as worthy of eating in a one-way parking lot as it is inside the restaurant’s humble digs. Speaking of, Kathi Rolls occupies the old Forever Naan space which, in hindsight, was probably a poor choice of name. The paratha, not the naan, happens to be my favorite bread anyway – a little crisp, a little doughy, a little flaky and always layered in circular fashion. Sen, who hails from Kolkata, India, doesn’t make these flatbreads in-house – not yet – but, after recently bringing on two cooks to help him out, I’m told that day is coming. And while fresh-made parathas will certainly make his kathi rolls even better, Sen uses a premade product of a decent enough quality to properly envelop everything from eggs ($6.99) to chicken tikka ($8.99) to palak paneer ($9.49). On this particular day, which happened to be the first day they offered curbside pickup, I lifted a special malai kebab kathi roll ($9.99) to my mouth thankful that A) its aromas of chicken flavored with cheese, cashew nuts and Sen’s secret blend of spices were able to neutralize the sterile scents of sanitizer on my hand, and B) the roll was manageable enough to devour sans spillage while seated in my car. Not to mention the morsels were so wonderfully soft. And, BTW, don’t be an ignorant boob by referring to kathi rolls as “Indian burritos,” “Indian tacos” or “Indian wraps.” They’re kathi (pronounced “kat-tee”) rolls. Say it a few times if you must.
By now, the two bags of food laying in the passenger seat had turned my car into a masala sauna, so after a slurp of the lychee lassi ($5.99), I tore open one of the bags and shoved the lamb kebab hot dog ($7.99) into my mouth. Absolutely glorious. And fiery. When I got home about 15 minutes later, I ate the side of chatka fries ($1.99) – the crinkle sort, only dusted with a chili seasoning. I guess I was still hungry.
A pair of plump, and not so thick-crusted, samosas ($3.99) reheated quite nicely a few hours later, as did the basmati bowl with a stunning assemblage of tandoori veggies ($7.99) – green beans, cauliflower, carrots, peas and potatoes. A garnish of pickled onions, cilantro, green chilies and chaat masala powder was akin to gilding a lily, but I’m not complaining. Sen clearly knows what he’s doing. I was a bit skeptical of his “naan pizzas” but I have to say, his palak paneer pizza ($8.99) with spinach and cheese was gratifying, even the following day. It does make a bit of a mess, however, requiring a thorough wash-up afterwards. Then again, I’m sure you’re all doing that anyway. Right? fkara@orlandoweekly.com
the diningin diaries
BY FAIYAZ KARA
The Great American Takeout, a day when folks around the country were encouraged to order takeout, was a roaring success. Literally.
At Luke’s Kitchen in Maitland, the line of cars in front of me waiting for their curbside orders was 10 deep. I really don’t think the restaurant expected such an overwhelming turnout which, of course, was awesome. Although by the time I got home with the short rib pot roast, it required a quick reheat.
No worries; it gave the cab franc from the Inquisitor (picked up at a 50 percent discount from Luke’s) some time to breathe. And the wine paired perfectly with the succulent braised meat served with mashed potatoes, pearl onions and horseradish. That was March 24.
A week later, on March 31, the Great American Takeout 2 took place and I had a hankering for some blackened grouper. So off to Lombardi’s Seafood Cafe I went for a fish basket served with hush puppies, slaw and fries.
They don’t offer curbside pickup here, which necessitated my going inside – masked, gloved, fountain penned and maintaining six feet of separation – to get my food. I made it home in seven minutes and the fish, still hot and perfectly cooked, was precisely what I craved. BTW: the cafe closes at 5:30 p.m., marking the first time in years I finished dinner before 6 p.m. The coronavirus has made me such a geezer.
(Luke’s Bar & Kitchen, 640 S. Orlando Ave., Maitland, 407-674- 2400, eatatlukes.com; Lombardi’s Seafood, 1888 W. Fairbanks Ave., Winter Park, 407-628-3474, lombardis.com)
Issa Rae in Insecure
PHOTO BY MERIE WALLACE/COURTESY HBO
BY STEVE SCHNEIDER PREMIERES FRIDAY: Brew Brothers Separately, brothers Greg and Jeff Schaffer brought us That ’70s Show and The League, respectively. So I guess it’s not a terrible surprise that the first eight-episode season of their new collaborative sitcom includes bits about a drunk dog and multiple references to things going into human orifices. The premise is that two squabbling siblings have to run a beer-making business together; if the show proves popular enough to go to a second season, maybe we’ll all be referring to it as “BrauBros” by this time next year. (Netflix)
A Celebration of the Music From Coco Take your mind off your corona-related troubles by losing yourself in this document of a concert that took place last year at the Hollywood Bowl. Hosts Eva Longoria and Benjamin Bratt trot out a bunch of Latinx musical luminaries to pay tribute to the Pixar hit Coco. Yep, that’s just what you need right now: A reminder that people used to be able to gather in large groups, and nonstop imagery from a movie that’s about all your relatives being dead. Coming next month: Buzz Lightyear’s Salute to Locked Medicine Cabinets. (Disney+)
LA Originals Netflix’s latest original documentary lauds the creative contribution Estevan Oriol and Mister Cartoon made to the California street-art scene. Testimonials to their greatness come from the likes of the late Kobe Bryant, Snoop Dogg and Eminem. Fun fact: Mister Cartoon did several of Eminem’s tattoos, although I’m guessing none of them reads “Mom.” (Netflix )
Love Wedding Repeat Peaky Blinders’ Sam Claflin plays a man who has to ensure that the wedding of his younger sister goes smoothly – which becomes considerably more difficult after a bunch of their exes and at least one old flame show up. Get ready for misadventures with mind-altering drugs, some homophobic sight gags, and everything else you’d otherwise be experiencing at an actual wedding rn. Chicken dance optional. (Netflix)
Tigertail Master of None and Forever co-creator Alan Yang wrote and directed this dramatic feature about a Taiwanese immigrant who’s trying to both reconnect with his daughter and work through the loveless marriage that brought him to America. Hey, we can grow enough loveless marriages right here at home, thank you very much. Stop taking our jobs! (Netflix)
PREMIERES SUNDAY: Insecure, Season 4 Issa Rae is back with another season of her sitcom about BFFs who have to navigate choppy waters both professional and personal. Once again, the titling is carefully themed, with episodes that include “Lowkey Losin’ It,” “Lowkey Happy” and season opener “Lowkey Feelin’ Myself.” With that kind of motif, I’m just holding out hope Tom Hiddleston shows up. (Think about it. You’ve got the time.) (HBO)
Sidney Flanigan and Talia Ryder in Never Rarely Sometimes Always
PAIN MANAGEMEMENT ‘Never Rarely Sometimes Always’ is the best film of 2020 PHOTO COURTESY FOCUS FEATURES
BY MARYANN JOHANSON T here’s a moment early in the softly savage Never Rarely Sometimes Always in which an adult woman dresses her husband – a grown-ass adult man – in precisely the same way she has just dressed her toddler child, coaxing arms into sleeves, etc., with much cheery encouragement of the basic need to ensure that one’s physical body is equipped to deal with winter weather. This shattering movie isn’t just pro-“women struggling through some tough shit,” it’s also anti- “useless men who make the lives of women so much more difficult than they need to be.”
All of this is unspoken subtext in the life of 17-year-old Autumn (Sidney Flanigan), who is secretly pregnant and does not want to be. It is also unspoken subtext in how writer-director Eliza Hittman tells Autumn’s story: filtered through the eyes of a high-schooler who cannot yet quite grasp all the nuanced contexts that have shaped the life she finds herself wading through the muck of. We see the fuck out of it, though, and seethe with futile empathy on her behalf. (Because of the pandemic, Hittman’s indie film has been released on demand to a much wider audience than she might have expected.)
It’s Autumn’s mom (Sharon Van Etten), for instance, whose husband, Autumn’s dad (Ryan Eggold), is like another of her children. Bad enough that Mom barely looks old enough to be Autumn’s mother – and not because of the usual movie shenanigans that cast tooyoung women in too-old roles. Because she probably is too young to be Autumn’s mother, or would be in a world that gave women solid options over their fertility: We may presume that she herself was a teenaged mom. We may also presume that Autumn has seen her mother’s struggles and decided this is not a life she would choose for herself if she had any other option.
We don’t know the circumstances by which Autumn has fallen pregnant, and it mostly doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want to be pregnant, and it’s her decision what to do about that. But we also glean clues – I will leave them to you to discover – that those circumstances may not be of the happiest sort. Autumn’s world – our world – is one in which her teen boy peers and the older men with which she must regularly interact are awful excuses for human beings. (I stress that nothing we see here is unusual or in any way outside the realm of the shit that girls and women have to cope with on a daily basis.)
Never Rarely Sometimes Always is matter-of-fact in the way it depicts Autumn’s abortion journey – carried out with the redoubtable support of her cousin and best friend Skylar (Talia Ryder) – as an easy decision that is difficult to carry out because of all the barriers thrown up at every step, some deliberate, some inadvertent. For how Autumn’s experience is not tragic or traumatic in and of itself, yet is made overtly and intentionally convoluted by a society that simultaneously sends her mixed signals about female sexuality, castigates her for acting like she owns her own body, and punishes her when she attempts to take responsibility for her own actions, even if those actions have been warped by her cultural programming.
Cringe at how Autumn’s father throws around words like slut and easy in such a way that makes it clear he will have little sympathy for his daughter’s situation. Double cringe at the reminder that, yes, sometimes women are also complicit in making the lives of other women more difficult than they need to be. Extreme cringe at the gentleness with which the abortion-clinic counselor asks the tough questions to which Autumn should choose from among the words that make up the title of this film.
Never Rarely Sometimes Always isn’t about abortion: It’s about the constant low-level abuse and denigration that girls and women endure, the brutal heartbreaking aloneness that is only briefly alleviated by solidarity with (some) other girls and women. Autumn is a remarkable character, unforgettable for her pragmatism and her resilience; newcomer Flanigan has the tender vulnerability and pragmatic steel of a young Mary Elizabeth Winstead. But ask yourself why such a young woman must be so strong, and so almost entirely on her own. arts@orlandoweekly.com
