Tuxedoed waiters hustle around this large room appointed with art and a wall lined with wine; still, India House is more sows ear than silk purse. After a work party at the ho-hum lunch buffet I wasn't expecting much from this satellite of a restaurant and banquet hall in Schaumburg, but I did have hopes of receiving the Bombay Sapphire martini I ordered. What I got instead was a slug of room-temperature gin served in a tumbler bedecked with a wan slice of lime—and I paid $9.95 for it. The food was unredeeming: naan lacked the grilled-to-order freshness youd get in a cabbie joint; aloo chat was so bland not even liberal doses of mint-cilantro chutney and sour pickle could revive it. Special meals come with a choice of soup or salad; best to go with the former unless you care for bottled French dressing. Somewhat overwhelmed by the enormous menu-there are more than 170 offerings, and one imagines at least half of them languishing in an enormous kitchen steam table-I rather boringly ordered a tikka combination of salmon and chicken. The sizzling platter was delivered with a flourish, but both meat and fish were dry, and the mutter paneer that came as part of the deal was made with mushy gray peas. I'll stick to Devon.
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