Once upon a time, under a general misapprehension of sophistication and worldliness, we thought we knew Indian cuisine. We thought we tasted alchemy. All of those spices! All of that toasting and grinding! Then we learned a thing or two about cooking and realized that when we thought we were tasting richness and complexity, we were really tasting...butter. Butter with the frequent addition of cream. We were dorks of the first order, but not so dorky we couldn't recognize the real deal once we tried it. At Great India they rely on fresh spices, and complicated cooking preparations—not butterfat. Try one of the carefully crafted tureens of curry. Or the Goan coconut chicken with its light, sweet lilt, or lamb dumpakt, a pot-pie made with tender lamb and cashews, a dish that's so plain and good it's almost innocent. Or the "murg malai kabob"—marinated chicken served in a lemony sauce so light you might assume it's French, until you taste the distinct perfume of cardamom and fresh accent of cilantro. Indian food shouldn't be entirely beholden to butter and ghee, and at Great India it's not: Instead you taste lemon and tomato, almonds and cardamom, coconut and pistachio, cilantro and its seed-self, coriander, and a thousand other spices and flavors. Great India, indeed.