Communion in the City: Cafe Tibet

Standing there waiting for the Q train at Cortelyou Road, in Brooklyn, my senses were overtaken by the scent of something that compelled me to find it. In fact, every time I caught that train the smell was there. It was a mixture of fresh spices that I had certainly never experienced before, that much I knew for sure.

For a long time I thought it was coming from an open apartment window. Because it smelled like love, and it smelled like home. It also smelled like a distant land, the spices transporting me to a place I was sure I did not know.

One day, I climbed the stairs and followed my nose to what we refer to in Texas as a ‘hole in the wall’. (The resourcefulness of New Yorkers amazes me, and the things that they can do with spaces the size of a closet are always so interesting.)That heavenly scent was coming from inside.

“Cafe Tibet”, the sign read. I was ready for it. Whatever that smell was, I was all in. A tiny soft-spoken waitress with lovely, kind eyes seated me, and I perused the menu. I had no idea what to order, so I just went with my gut. (Literally.) I ordered Chana-Katsa, to start, and Mixed Veggies with Tibetan Gravy for the entree, and threw in Veggie MoMo.

I studied the tiny cafe while I waited: charming lanterns, pictures of Tibet, the teachings of the Dalai Lama, the muffled sounds of the city just outside the door. All of it blended to form the most pleasant vibe.

The waitress re-appeared from the magical, mysterious back, and as she placed a bowl on the table in front of me, I couldn’t help but smile. There it was! That scent! It was coming from the bowl that she was placing on the table right in front of me! It was the Chana-Katsa. Chickpeas with garlic, ginger, lemon, scallion, and spicy Tibetan sauce. That first bite was everything!

Next, the Mixed Veggies with Tibetan Gravy. Then the Veggie MoMo. I disappeared into the unknown. I’ve never been to Tibet, although I dream of going. But I was tasting it. Exploring another land by savoring the dishes that had been so carefully prepared for me.

As I picked up the MoMo with my chopsticks, and put it in my mouth, I looked up, making eye contact with the waitress. She had a question in her eyes. With mouth full, I grinned and nodded yes. (Yes to everything- to all of it. Yes to the moment- to the here and now.) She smiled in return. There were no words. We didn’t need them.