You don’t want to go near Vatan unless you have fasted for an entire day and have some hardcore willpower to pace yourself through a meal. This Curry Hill spot offers a $31 prix fixe all-you-can eat gujarati Indian dinner consisting of about a dozen small vegetarian plates with accompanying rice and sauces, plus dessert. That’s right, you can ask for more of anything and nothing gets added to your tab. But even if you don’t have room for seconds, the price, while not an incredible deal, isn’t bad for what you get.

Dinner is reservation-only, but reserving a table for the same evening on a Saturday night was no problem. We were lead through the neon blue-flooded dining room, which was pure Bollywood kitsch. A baby-elephant-sized statue of Ganesh overlooked an imitation temple courtyard, complete with thatched-roof booths and fake trees. Our host finally seated us in what must have been the temple basement, a cave-like downstairs area, which while cozy, felt like a punishment for calling an hour ahead, since there were empty tables upstairs. The menu, our waiter informed us, was purely for informational purposes since the dinner comes with everything listed.

The first course consisted of six appetizers arranged on a silver serving platter, with a second platter holding five sauces ranging from spicy to sweet. Stand-outs included the samosas, battered triangles of spicy potatoes and peas, and chana masala, garbanzo beans with chutney and coriander. After eating a few deep-fried peppers a low heat began filling my mouth, and I found myself gulping water and sev puri, cooling, yogurt-filled bread. When the waiter asked how spicy I’d like my dinner, I requested mild.

Dinner was served similarly, but the dishes came accompanied by two kinds of rice, as well as kadhi, a yogurt and chickpea soup meant to be ladled in the middle of your dish. The puri–fried, puffed whole-wheat bread–nicely complemented the toor dal (spiced boiled lentils), and bhaji (sauteed spinach). The bataanu sak–potatoes in “mild” red gravy–caused another minor sweat attack, which I countered with more water and rice pudding. Dessert was a light course consisting of chai tea and mango ice cream–thank god, because the rest of my carb-and-salt loaded dinner was rapidly expanding in my tummy. Everything had been pretty tasty, but even though I didn’t finish my meal, I walked out feeling like I was steering a giant stomach on spindly legs, sweat drying on my brow like I’d seriously exerted myself. This is a good place to test the limits of your appetite with your vegetarian buddies, but due to price and the fullness factor I’ll be strictly limiting repeat visits.

Vatan
409 Third Avenue between 28th and 29th St.
Sun, Tue-Thu 5:30pm-10pm. Fri-Sat, 5:30pm-10:30pm. Closed Mon.
Call for reservations (212) 689-5666

I usually exit Bloomingdale’s Soho through the back door, while toying with taking drastic measures. Like leaving the city for good so I’ll stop blowing money on pretty things I don’t need. A right on Crosby street and a left on Broome puts me within reasonable distance of Chinatown, where I can atone for my purchase my finding something cheap for dinner. It’s no accident that enthusiasm for bahn mi spiked as the economy tanked–these hearty Vietnamese sandwiches are famously wallet-friendly. But you can skip the $5 versions at Baogette and Nicky’s. There’s better stuff downtown.

Bahn Mi Saigon Bakery on Mott street masquerades as a jewelry store but I have never seen anyone buy the candy-colored plastic beads in its window. A single long bench along the wall stretches toward the sandwich counter in the back, and a dry erase board hanging from the ceiling functions as the menu. The different sandwiches include  pork, chicken, sardine, pate, meat ball, and buddhist (mushrooms and tofu); there’s also papaya shrimp salad and summer rolls. Everything is four or five bucks, and the classic bahn mi, with pork, is $3.75. When asked “spicy or no spicy” I usually split the difference and request medium.

The pork bahn mi is served on a served on a crunchy baguette scraped with mayo and piled with fresh shreds of cold pickled carrots, radish, cucumber, and peppers. Topping it off are crunchy bits of sweet pork, a slice of lunchmeat-like pork roll, cilantro, and of course, hot sauce. This is a sandwich of great textures and well-married flavors, one that definitely has a smelly aura if you’re toting it around with you, but is utterly satisfying upon eating. In fact, half of this sandwich is enough for me, and a full one is a little overwhelming. Another plus, it doesn’t come doused in fish sauce, something I’ve encountered with other bahn mi shops.

For the full Saigon Bakery experience grab a bottle of the mysterious “Soy Drink” from the refrigerator. It’s actually just soy milk, but shit, it’s only 75 cents! Dinner under $5? Done.

Bahn Mi Saigon Bakery
138 Mott Street between Grand Street and Hester Street
Tue-Sun 10am-7pm. Closed Monday
Gets busy during lunch hour, go later if you don’t want to wait.