1. Good food (Otherwise what’s the point of meeting over a meal?)
2. Efficient service (How many times have you practically killed the afternoon trying to get the check?)
3. Quiet -- a dining room in which you can actually hear what others at your talbe say (Hmm, did he say CBS or CDS?)

You can get all of this at Tamarind, an Indian restaurant on East 22nd Street in Manhattan’s Flatiron neighborhood. I’ve had both dinner and lunch at Tamarind, and the food is exceptional. Many of the dishes and ingredients will seem familiar to those who frequent more ordinary Indian places that abound in New York and elsewhere – and I often find those places perfectly satisfying. But everything at Tamarind seems to have been taken up several levels; there’s a distinctness and clarity to the flavors, and a far-ranging menu that can take diners far beyond the typical. Sure you can order saag paneer if you want. But how ’bout nargisi kifta: lotus root dumplings with homemade cheese, in a saffron-onion sauce? Avtar Walia, Tamarind’s perpetually dapper owner, told me that his offerings are “authentic Indian food,” though that clearly refers to the flavorings and preparation more than it does some of the things that land in his pots. How else to explain the (delicious) lobster masala, venison or quail? Walia says his kitchen also experiments to come up with its own creations. One example: a dish of cauliflower, lightly crisp on the outside in a tangy sort of sweet and sour sauce. “I sell it by the ton,” he told me, and I can see why.

Tamarind’s contemporarily decorated space features a muted beige/white palate. And, at least at lunch, the noise level is subdued, as well. Before the recent financial crisis, Walia says, it used to be a bit more bustling, particularly because bankers from nearby Credit Suisse used to fill up tables. They appear less frequently now. (Prices are not cheap, especially for those used to Indian food being a low-budget option, but there is a $24 prix fixe option at lunch.) Even if it is crowded, the dining room has a half dozen banquettes that offer an semi-private place for those who may want to plot the next big deal -- or bailout. If those discussions stray into whether or not to have dessert, I would suggest yes. Try the kulfi, a pistachio and cardamom flavored ice milk or the mango cheese cake. Heck, if the market’s up for the day, order both.

Nearly every weekday for the last year, my lunch has included a cranberry pecan roll bought from Corrado Bread & Pastry in Grand Central Station. They’re also sold, I’ve noticed, at Whole Foods, Garden of Eden, and a couple of other places around the city.

I got curious about the provenance of the cranberry pecan roll because, first of all, I wondered who was responsible for this reason for living. The rolls consist of whole cranberries and pieces of fresh, sweet pecans dispersed throughout slightly dark, soft bread. The cranberries on top of the rolls are crisp and smoky flavored as though they were roasted over a fire, and the ones inside are springy and tart. And the rolls have hard, crusty tops, but aren’t flaky. You can eat them at your desk and barely leave a crumb.

Second, I was curious about the calorie count. I’m on a 1,200-calorie-a-day diet, and cheat on it every single day, but I like to know by how much. The rolls are petite, slightly bigger than clementines but smaller than tangerines. Fresh Direct carries raisin pecan rolls that look similar in size and shape, and the Web site said they have -- oh, no -- 236 calories each.

A call to Corrado’s flagship store yielded some clues. “The rolls are very popular,” said Claudio Martins, one of the principles of the Manhattan business. “We buy them from a bakery in Long Island City called Pain D’Avignon.”

“So are you a fan of the cranberry pecan rolls yourself?” I asked.

“I don’t sell anything I don’t adore,” Martins said. He put me in touch with Mr. Branislav Stamenkovic, one of three Yugoslavian brothers who left their troubled land and opened Pain D’Avignon in Massachusetts in 1992.

“The roll was first baked at our original location in Cape Cod,” Stamenkovic explained in pleasantly accented speech. “Everybody was making raisin rolls. There are a lot of cranberries on Cape Cod, so it was only natural to make cranberry rolls and bread.”

Between the Cape Cod and Long Island City bakeries, Pain D’Avignon sells about 3,000 cranberry pecan rolls a day. And the calorie count? Just 170 calories per roll. Bon appetite.

By the way, I was not enamored of the dumplings I ordered. (Yes, I am in fact complaining that (a) the food wasn’t that good and (b) that there wasn’t enough of it -- lunch blogger’s prerogative.) I got six of the Chicken Thai Basil dumplings, which seemed to be all about the seasoning and nothing about the chicken. I had wanted to try 3 of the pork dumplings as part of my intended order of 9. Perhaps the pork ones are fabulous; but Rickshaw wasn’t willing to make it easy for me to find out. This is the third time in recent weeks (see here and here) I’ve been burned in one way or another by my quest for dumplings. I guess that makes me a glutton for punishment.

Working from home might seem to offer an ideal opportunity to assemble creative and wholesome meals from the plethora of ingredients in one's pantry and fridge. More often that not, though, I've found it leads to impulsive grazing, and that the combination of foods ingested around the noon hour ends up being rather horrifying. Above is my "lunch" from Friday. No, I did not pick out the Doritos and think they would pair nicely with the Honey Nut Cheerios; those were sequential impulses driven by craving (Doritos) and then a need for a speedy supplement (Cheerios). As for my choice of beverage, well, the carrot juice just happened to be in front of the cider in my refrigerator. How did it happen that everything I consumed was orange or in orange packaging? The subliminal influence of the pervasive Halloween promotions, I suppose.

Have you ever seen anything as lovely as a shrimp dumpling? A perfect packet of pearly opalescence. A crenellated purse, pink paste blushing through its diaphanous shroud. And the taste is beyond compare; so moist and sweet and satisfying, I think I could eat two dozen in a sitting, no problem. That’s why, when I set out to get myself some on Friday, I decided that a single order – a mere 6 dumplings – wouldn’t do. Retrieving a take-out menu from deep in a desk drawer, I phoned in an order for two. Yes, yes, my vows of frugality for lunch would have to be deferred – at $5.95 each, I would be shelling out $12 for lunch. Or so I thought. When I went to John’s Shanghai on West 46th Street to pick up my order, I was presented with a bill for $17.25, including tax. Apparently the menu I’d ordered from was a good two years old, and prices have shot up 33%. Ouch. And you want to know the real killer? – Those dozen dumplings didn’t even begin to make a dent in my appetite. They are lovely, though, aren’t they?

On deadline today, so I had to grab something quick. That sent me to my favorite nearby Chinese restaurant for takeout that's both cheap and good. Nothing very adventuresome about my selection, but the chicken was moist and tender, the broccoli was fresh and crunchy, and the price -- including a premium for brown rice -- was $5.75 Now, back to the meltdown in the financial markets.

In the exquisitely balanced office ecosystem,
scavengers play a vital role.

Some eschew tongs, but take full advantage
of their opposable thumbs to snatch lunch leavings away.

Salad greens seem generally to be shunned. . . .

But cookies don't stand a chance.

Can it get any simpler (or healthier) than this? Fresh figs, ricotta salata cheese, and Broccolini (steamed, and served with olive oil and salt). A nice counterpoint to my breakfast, a McDonald’s bacon, egg and cheese McGriddle, wouldn’t you say?

I can say with confidence that the lunch I ate was my own – a variation of the Italian dish rici e bici (rice and peas), which I supplemented with sauteed artichoke hearts, fresh corn cut off the cob and some sweet Italian sausage. Still, I remain haunted at glimpses I had at some of the things stored in the fridge by the Others.

Went back to Mangia today, one of my favorite choices for their take-out salad bar. But they’ve got a nice sit-down place upstairs, as well, and my BusinessWeek colleague Ronnie Weil and I decided to get a table. Her choice: a thin-crust pizza with fresh tomato slices, fontina cheese, prosciutto and arugula. Mine: risotto with asparagus and parmesan. The winner: The pizza. Nothing wrong with the risotto, but the pizza was exceptional. The crust was both thin and airy, and unlike so many crusts, which serve as little more than delivery platforms for what’s on top, this one really enhanced the taste. The tab (with tax and tip, but no other food and only tap water to drink): $18 each. Ouch – not great given my vow to keep my lunch expenses down. . . . On another note, I was at the gym this weekend and noted that in one half hour on one of those elliptical trainers, I burned 356 calories, for a BME of 0.66. Your performance may vary. Your iPod play list will almost certainly be cooler. Consult a physician before consuming a Big Mac or working out on an elliptical, and use extreme caution if attempting both simultaneously.