Rice (a restaurant)

I don't have any photographs from my meal at Rice, because the lighting is moody dark with little candles, the tables shoved in close together, and the entire place smaller than my apartment. No matter. Can a good meal exist even if I couldn't document it. You bet. Gabe suggested this place, for a dinner with our friend Yael and her boyfriend, Adam. He didn't know if I could find a gluten-free entree, but I assumed that with a name like Rice, I'd probably be fine.

Turns out I was right.

This lovely little restaurant is based on different kinds of rice: basmati, thai black, lebanese, and bhutanese red, to name a few. There are more than a dozen pan-Asian dishes, like chicken satay, Thai coconut curry, and even jerk chicken wings. I felt a little dizzy with possibilities when I read the menu, but I knew better than to decide anything before I asked.

The hip, sly waitress -- Rice is in Nolita, a small area of relentless trendiness that tries to act nonchalant -- looked at me through her tiny, black glasses when I started to explain gluten, then said: "Hold on a minute." When she came back, she handed me a small menu. I nearly cried when I saw what was written on the front: "Gluten-free Menu for Celiacs." Wow.

I was surprised to see that I couldn't order the Indian chicken curry with mango, bananas, and yogurt. What could be in there? But she explained that they used just a touch of flour to thicken the sauce. Thank goodness I asked. And for those of you reading who can eat gluten, imagine having to investigate every mouthful of food you eat. If you can imagine it, you'll understand why I felt in such safe hands at this place.

I ordered a thick corncake with queso cheese and spicy tomatoes. Instantly, I felt fine. The spices burst forth with bold intensity, each of them singular, all them working together. The warm lentil stew arrived on top of "green rice," which is rice infused with cilantro, parsley, and spinach.

Wash it all down with a good bottle of spicy red wine and the laughter of close friends, and you have a damned fine meal.

Rice
227 Mott Street
212.226.5775
(plus, three more locations)