Our story
Sabr is the word our kitchen was built on. It means patience. This is the story of a Deer Park counter that decided to take its time.
We Desi opened at Tanger Outlets as a counter, quick and honest. Lahori tikka off the coals, Delhi chaat, Karachi biryani by the pot, a butter chicken people drove across the county for.
It worked. It also meant foil, a queue at noon, and food that deserved a better seat than a car.
Sabr. It is what you are told when the dal is not ready yet, and what elders say about nearly everything else. It is the opposite of a takeout window, and it is the way this food was always meant to be cooked.
So we closed for a while. Built a bar. Put linen on the tables. Threw away the foil.
The tandoor is the same one. The recipes are the same ones, with the corners we used to cut put back in. The bar is new and the cocktails borrow from the spice rack. The dining room is small on purpose.
Come sit. We are not in a hurry, and we would rather you were not either.
The word is Arabic, Urdu and Hindi at once. It means to endure with grace. In our kitchen it means the dal gets 24 hours and the goat gets the night.
A clay oven over charcoal is the oldest fast food there is. High heat, a few minutes, the char that no grill can fake.
Every protein in the building is halal. No asking, no asterisks, no separate menu.
Forty-odd seats, a real bar, music at a level you can talk over. Come for two hours, or stay for four.
