Lunch With the Hare Krishnas!
Discover more from CAFÉ ANNE
Lunch With the Hare Krishnas!
Plus! Eric Adams Watch #5! Sherita Mystery Update!
Hello everybody,
Welcome to Issue #32 of CAFÉ ANNE!
When I stopped by the Hare Krishna temple in Downtown Brooklyn last week, my only goal was a cheap meal. What I got was a love story—sort of! I hope you’ll enjoy this week’s feature, “Lunch With the Hare Krishnas,” below.
Also, please note that I am taking a VACATION, so there will be no newsletter next Monday. Our party will resume the week after with a profile of NYC’s Adrienne Smith, one of the top wide receivers in all of women's tackle football history. Boom!
Regards!
Anne
ERIC ADAMS WATCH
On Crypto, Style and Lighting Up
I’m still enjoying the exploits of New York City’s new mayor, Eric Adams. As a recent profile in Politico put it, “In a city of weird people and weird mayors, Adams is maybe the most idiosyncratic figure to ever hold the office.”
Here, round-up #5 of the mayor’s doings:
May 13: The New York Post reports that the mayor’s move to convert his first three paychecks to cryptocurrency have yet to pay off. He’s so far lost 22% of what he invested in Bitcoin and 25% of his investment in Ethereum. He is not worried: “Trust me, it’s going to bounce back!”
May 23: To highlight his support for small business, Mayor Adams visits the Bronx. What shop does he choose to highlight? The Avenue Cigar Lounge.
June 3: While new codes regulating legal marijuana sales won’t go into effect until later this year, the Mayor says he won’t crack down on pot dealers jumping the gun. “Enjoy yourself, light up,” he says at a press conference. “But most importantly, spend some money! We want your money!”
June 7: A new Siena Poll has bad news for the Mayor: only 29% rate his job performance positively. The good news: 53% like his style!
SHERITA MYSTERY UPDATE
“I Went There and Offered to Take the Sign Off Their Hands”
For readers following our ongoing investigation into the story behind Sherita, the glamorous pink dinosaur adorning the fuel oil billboard at the corner of Classon and Atlantic in Brooklyn, I am pleased to provide another update.
At the suggestion of reader Kyle in Prospect Heights, I emailed the Brooklyn-based Balkan band that named itself after the billboard character. “Is there anything you know about who Sherita is?” I wrote.
The band is no longer active, but I did hear back from Greg, the group’s singer and clarinet player. He replied:
The truth is that none of us know the story of the lovely, weird-looking pink dinosaur at the corner of Atlantic and Classon Avenues. My wife and I, two members of the band, lived around the corner from the tire shop (I think it was a boiler shop when we first moved there in 2005) where the sign is located. We always found her a comforting sight coming back into the neighborhood after a late night gig, so we decided to name our group after her.
There was a point about six or seven years ago when part of the sign was taken down, I think for repairs to the structure of the building. Worried that she was going to be trashed, I went there and offered to take the sign off their hands if they were getting rid of it. I spoke with the owner who reassured me, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn't going anywhere.
At the risk of spreading completely made up information, I have it in my head that Sherita is the name of his daughter. I don't remember why I think that. Did he tell me that? Was it a story I made up to explain the existence of the sign? I really don't remember how it came to me. And I'm not even sure I believe it's the truth anymore.
In any case, we have since moved across Atlantic Ave to Crown Heights, and the band has gone defunct. But we still think of her as an icon of our neighborhood.
Thank you Kyle and Greg!
FEATURE
Lunch With the Hare Krishnas!
I was grousing about the rising cost of a restaurant lunch when I remembered the Hare Krishnas. Someone once told me that the lunch special at their temple in Downtown Brooklyn is the best deal in town. I rang the temple last week to see if they still offered lunch to the public.
A monk named Chaitanya, who answered the phone, confirmed they serve lunch every weekday, from noon to 3 pm. “Or you can come by tonight!” he said. “We have meditation!”
I bicycled over the next day. The Krishnas have a big temple on Schermerhorn Street, which I’ve never noticed though I’ve passed by hundreds of times.
There was sidewalk sign out front advertising their restaurant, Govinda’s Kitchen. I later learned there are dozens of Krishna restaurants around the world, all named for Govinda, the supreme being. I was also pleased to note that since it was Wednesday, it was potatoes au gratin day!
The restaurant was in the temple basement, a large space decorated with checker tiles, murals and brass chandeliers in a style I might term “South Asian cafeteria ballroom.” Mantras played in the background. There was seating for roughly 50 and the food was served cafeteria-style.
The attendant, Jai, was very hospitable. “Hello ma’am, how can I serve you?” he said. “Is this your first time?”
He explained the system: “We go by items. We have something called ‘complete meal,’ that means this will have seven items. Practically whatever you see here, everything is included in ‘complete meal,’ except the bread. Or you can have four items, three items, two items or one item. Anything ma’am, beyond four items, is a ‘complete meal.’”
“Another thing ma’am,” he continued, “everything is considered as an item. So say, rice and chick peas will be two items. Alright ma’am? Everything is vegan except this. This is sour cream potatoes. This has a lot of cheese and cream in it.”
“Then I definitely want the potatoes,” I said.
“Alright ma’am.”
“And are those carrots?”
“Yes ma’am, carrots mixed with beets, roasted.”
I also got the butternut squash and salad. Jai heaped my plate with generous portions.
“Ma’am, you are all set.”
“May I take your photo for my blog?” I asked.
“Please,” he said. “If you think, ma’am, that I deserve it.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ve never been called ma’am so many times in my life!”
The food was delicious. Salty, flavorful and very filling—just the way I like everything, though I could have used a side of roast chicken.
Curious about my fellow patrons, I wandered over to chat with a middle-aged man dining alone at a nearby table. His name was Felipe. He lives in Bay Ridge but owns a print shop in Downtown Brooklyn. A vegetarian, he’s been eating at Govinda’s three days a week since he discovered it in March, attracted by the peaceful atmosphere and what he deemed reasonable prices.
“How would you describe the food here?” I asked.
“In the beginning, it takes a little getting used to. Because they do use a lot of seasoning to replace, to substitute, like, some of the meat flavor,” he said. “But it’s good, very good.”
The couple at the next table was a pair of tourists visiting from Toronto. They had really cleaned their plates.
“We’re students, so I was like, ‘Let’s try and do this trip as cheap as possible!’” said Reagan.
They were pleased with their meal, pronouncing it better than Chipotle.
After I finished my lunch, Chaitanya, the monk who had answered the phone the day before, came down to chat. He told me a little about life at the temple, where he lives with 24 fellow disciples. The folks in residence, it turns out, are the Krishnas you see chanting, playing tambourines and handing out cards around the city, most frequently in Union Square and Columbus Circle in Manhattan, or by Barclays Center in Brooklyn.
“We wake up early, 4 a.m., and from four to nine, we're meditating, and then we have a lecture,” he said. “And then we go out and we spread whatever knowledge that we've learned. We like to meet people on the street, and we give them some of the books. Actually, we can give you a book too. The Bhagavad Gita. Do you have that yet?”
I did!
I asked about the purpose of Govinda’s Kitchen. You don’t see Lutherans opening restaurants in their church basements. What’s up with the Krishnas? I figured it was a recruiting strategy—lure people with a lunch deal! But Chaitanya said they also consider the kitchen a public service.
He explained, for instance, that before the food is served, it’s offered to God. “And because it's spiritualized, it helps people come to a higher level of consciousness,” he said.
I was feeling pretty good after my potatoes au gratin, come to think of it. But as I soon discovered, there’s more to the food story at Govinda’s then the fact that it’s blessed by Lord Krishna…
The restaurant’s manager, I learned next, is none other than Jai, the man of a thousand ma’ams who had served my lunch. Or make that co-manager. He runs Govinda’s with Jaya, a fellow temple resident.
“I’m the baker. I also cook,” said Jaya, who joined us at the table. “We’re kind of like a team.”
“We’re married!” said Jai. “So whatever you see here, I made a few items, she made a few items, and that’s how we run together. We go shopping together. We cook together. And then we clean together!”
Aside from an assistant who does some prep work and pot washing, Jai and Jaya comprise the entire staff of Govinda’s. On a typical day, they serve about 40 meals, except on Thursday, which is eggplant day. “The eggplant, is, of course, very famous,” said Jai. “And popular.”
The two met on the job. Jai came to Brooklyn and the temple about two years ago from Delhi, in North India, where he owned an optical shop. “I came basically to serve my spiritual master. That’s him sitting there,” he said, pointing out His Holiness Kadamba Kanana Swami, an older man in saffron robes chatting with a disciples at a nearby table. “I came as a servant.”
His Holiness thought the customer service skills Jai had developed running an opticial shop in Delhi would translate well into managing a restaurant in Brooklyn.
“That was okay,” said Jai. “It was hospitality. Just a little bit of a change. A business change. But then I was told I also had to cook. I had to learn it.”
“You didn’t know how to cook?” I said.
“Absolutely not,” said Jai.
“All things that you ate, that were so delicious, he cooked it!” Jaya added proudly.
“Who trained you?” I asked.
“My sister,” said Jai.
“Your sister!” I said. “What, was she already here?”
“No,” said Jai. “She was in India. She’s still in India.”
“Remotely,” said Jaya. “She’s teaching him.”
“Yeah, we go on WhatsApp video,” said Jai. “She says do this, do this, do this.”
The whole scenario was so unlikely. I laughed and laughed.
“Everything! Everything!” said Jai. “From the beginning, she told me this spice to be used, that spice to be used. That much ghee or this much oil. I had no idea.”
Jaya, who grew up in Westchester and was raised Catholic, became a Krishna as a college student in Boston. She’d already been living in the Brooklyn temple for a few years when Jai arrived. He couldn’t drive, so she helped him with his weekly shopping expeditions in the temple’s white van, buying food from the Chinese vendors under the Manhattan Bridge and at Jetro Cash & Carry, which is sort of the city’s Costco for restaurants.
“Our love story started at Jetro!” said Jaya.
Their life actually sounds super nice. They wake before dawn and walk to Brooklyn Bridge Park every morning with its views of the Manhattan skyline. “We also have a meditation practice in the morning that we do. So even before we get started to cook, we're meditating beforehand,” said Jaya. “That’s helping us with our consciousness, to be able to offer something nice.”
Jaya and Jai, it turns out, are the folks who offer the food to Lord Krishna before it hits the steam table.
“We have a little altar and we offer food with some prayers. And then after that, we take that and mix it with the rest of it,” said Jai.
“What does that do to the food?” I asked.
“It adds some love in there!” said Jaya.
“It’s purified, sanctified. Because we offer it to the Lord. And he takes it and blesses it,” said Jai. “Plus, ma'am, if you can come someday to check our standards, our standards are very high and very clean. The people who are cooking, we make sure they are free from intoxication, no gambling, no meat eating. So that affects your consciousness.”
“Because there's energy that you're putting into everything,” said Jaya. “Like if you're kneading the dough, your energy is being put into that food, right? If you have a certain kind of consciousness, when someone's disturbed, that consciousness goes into the food.”
“We can also be disturbed,” added Jai. “It’s not that we're not disturbed. Of course, things will go wrong. Definitely. They will definitely go against your plans. But still, you can manage.”
I told the couple that I also like to get up early and meditate.
“Maybe you can come to one of our programs in the morning!” said Jaya, excusing herself to serve some newly arrived customers.
I might! It’s always fun to check out other people’s spiritual practices, and the Krishnas have a full schedule of programs.
And who knows? If I hang around long enough, I might even find myself serving as the new manager at Govinda’s!
QUOTE OF THE WEEK
“Since I'm introverted, I was never a fan of face-to-face meetings, but now it feels so unusual that it sounds fun, like going apple-picking."
—Dyske Suematsu, Lower East Side
Lunch With the Hare Krishnas!
It might be a good idea for the Lutheran's to join in.
I ❤️ Govindas! I was just recently lamenting to myself how long it’s been since I went. So fun to know the story! The only other Govindas I tried is in Philly and that had amazing food as well.