I did not grow up in a family that ate out often. Much of this had to do with lack of money, but more importantly, it had to do with time and taste. Two things that I have grown to value immensely. Some might even say over-value. When we immigrated to Queens, New York in 2001, my family was unaware of the majority of foods available to us. Let me stress that this was 2001 and we were (and still are) a bunch of vegetarians. There was no emphasis on eating your vegetables, no beyond or impossible meats that were ubiquitous, tofu was not cool yet, and the majority of ethnic food was still “smelly” and “unhealthy.” Enter Tangra Masala—the haven for all South Asians and their entry into Queens’ food scene.
The perfect Indo-Chinese spot. There is no rival. This is the OG. Owned by the same family for the past couple of decades, Tangra has perfected how Desis want to eat their Chinese food. Indo-Chinese food is a cuisine in and of itself. Let me explain. During British rule of India, Chinese migrants settled in or around Calcutta. The majority of these migrants were from Guangdong province and were Hakka. These people did what the majority of those around the world have done. They cooked their food—Chinese—to adapt to the dominant palette, namely Indian tastes. Armed with that history, let’s return to Tangra and its no-frills atmosphere.
The original location is still cash only, a hallmark of amazing ethnic food that is to come. It has 3.7 stars (347 reviews) on Yelp, another sign of how great it is, a nod to the implicit bias plaguing reviews of ethnic restaurants. Lastly, everyone thinks this is “their” Tangra because several Indo-Chinese spots popped up with Tangra in their name (e.g., Tangra Wok), but let us refrain from mixing up our Tangra Masala with any imitators.
We’ve been ordering the same set of dishes from 2001. Yes, that is 23 years. Vegetarian hot and sour soup. If a special occasion, vegetable pakora. Vegetable manchurian with gravy. Vegetable tangra masala chow-mein. No more, and usually no less. When my dining companion joins my family, he indulges in the chicken lollipops, which always come out sweltering hot.
The hot and sour soup will teach you the definition of “well-seasoned.” The broth is seasoned with amchur, a fruity spice powder made from unripe green mangoes. It adds a level of umami that is difficult for even the best ingredients to achieve (think MSG). Wood ear mushrooms are cooked perfectly, achieving the ideal chewy texture. Portions of cabbage, tofu, and shredded carrots maintain their toothsome texture while highlighting the main element—the broth. The hot and sour soup will cleanse your sinuses and your palette. It is the ideal way to prepare yourself for everything that is to come. The vegetable pakoras are so crispy you can hear the crunch when biting into them or breaking them open. I am fairly sure the pakoras are not of the traditional chickpea flour, but a much lighter batter. The accompanying sauce is not shy. It is the dulled-out green chilies, probably macerated, combined with vinegar and some sugar. Like most things at Tangra, I do not know what makes the sauce so good because it looks deceivingly simple. The vegetarian manchurian consists of dough balls made of various vegetables (kind of like the pakoras) in soy sauce-based gravy. Usually thickened with corn starch, the gravy has more spice compared to the traditional Chinese black bean or soy sauce and garlic mother sauces. Everyone has their own way of making vegetable manchurian. But the only one worth eating is the one at Tangra because the rest are too soft or goopy. Moving on to the Tangra Masala chow-mein. It is reminiscent of Szechuan food. It is bright red, making one think there is definitely red food coloring in the sauce. But I promise you, that is just how much chili there is in the noodles. The one downfall is the noodles are often too soft and often there is even too much spice for me, illustrating a lack of finesse in the seasoning. More is not always better in seasoning. Sometimes. though, this high amount of spice is just what you need to get out of your own head and be brought back to life at the dinner table.
My hope is that Tangra Masala lives on for so many families and groups like mine. I’ve brought my dining companion, new friends who have no idea what Indo-Chinese food is, and returned with old friends who have their own Tangra-specific journeys. My family returns to this day—it is the first place we want to go together, where we can collectively exhale, unbothered by anyone’s potential unfamiliarity with the menu or indecisiveness. Even after 23 years, Tangra Masala provides me and mine a true third space to have the silliest or the most important of life conversations. See if Tangra Masala offers you the same.
The Eating House 