Phayul

You find Phayul through a side door on 74th Street and a flight of stairs, into a plain second-floor room with steamed-up windows that look down on the busiest block of Little Tibet. The menu runs deep into the food Tibetans actually cook for themselves: hand-pulled thenthuk in a broth that tastes of long simmering, beef momos, and dried-beef stir-fries that arrive still crackling, with chili oil and hot sauce standing on every table.

It is cash only, the spice is not softened, and the room fills with Himalayan families well before the dinner hour. The Michelin Guide keeps it on its New York list, but nothing about the place has changed because of it — which is exactly the appeal.