gary
Google
Let's be honest, the Fourth of July is usually a culinary wasteland—a holiday of questionable pyrotechnics and even more questionable soggy pizza.
But on this particular Fourth, a figure emerged from a haze of cheap firework smoke. It was Addi. He surveyed our little block party, took pity on our souls, and uttered the eight words every food lover dreams of hearing: "My restaurant. It's closed, but for you? Open."
What followed was pure, unadulterated chaos. The block party vanished as grown adults engaged in a frantic game of human Tetris, cramming into cars with the desperation of people escaping a natural disaster.
We weren't just going to dinner; we were on a mission from God, a high-speed pilgrimage that deposited us at the doors of "Addi's Darbar Indian Cuisine."
The place was aggressively closed. Chairs on tables, lights off, the whole nine yards. There was no menu—menus are for mortals.
Tonight, there was only one commandment: Thou Shalt Eat Chicken Tikka Masala and drink unlimited wine.
Oh, the Tikka Masala. My taste buds, which I had long suspected had packed their bags and retired to Florida, suddenly woke up, threw a rave, and started doing shots. The sauce was a creamy, sunset-orange dream, and the chicken was so tender I have to assume it spent its life in deep meditation, probably doing hot yoga and listening to whale sounds. This wasn't food; it was an epiphany in a bowl.
The beverage situation was governed by a single, beautiful law: "If you can see it, you can drink it." This led to the "Addi-tude Adjustment"—a full-system reboot for the soul, administered via a firehose of surprisingly good wine and champagne.
Service was handled by Addi himself, who treated an empty glass not as an oversight, but as a deep, personal failure.
The man was a whirling of hospitality, a ninja ensuring no one's happiness dipped below "ecstatic."
VERDICT: You can't find "Addi's After-Hours Emporium" on Yelp. You can't book a table. The only way in is to become close neighbors with Addi.
If a man smelling faintly of fireworks and pure generosity ever makes you this offer, don't walk, run. It's the American dream, just with better food and a much more liberal booze policy.
Thank you, Addi for your generosity. We owe you one.