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So you quidnuncs want to bed about our meal the former day at Mysore Woodlands, the "Complete Vegetarian South Indian Restaurant" in Parisppany, NJ.

As they say in Mysore of bad cooks, Baddi makkalu, adigae aen aenu baralla (these vile fellows are clueless in the cookery department).

Crappy Then, Crappy Now You can alter the list of your Indian restaurant and still affect the restaurant to a new location.

But unless you do a brain transplant on our hopelessly incompetent desi chefs here, nothing`s gonna change. You see us, nothing.

A pair of years back we had the regrettable experience of dining at Udupi Village in Montclair, NJ. The food was absolutely crappy.

Fast forward two days later.

Udupi Village has now changed its call to Mysore Woodlands and shifted its location 11 miles west to Parsippany.

And imagine what?

The nutrient is nevertheless absolutely crappy.

Ghastly Experience It was a hot New Jersey day late and we were seated in the Apna Bazar parking lot on Oak Tree Road wondering where to point out for a meal when we espied an ad for Mysore Woodlands restaurant.

So turning on our GPS off we headed to Parsippany (NJ) in hopes of a sumptuous South Indian vegetarian meal.

Alas, our meal was anything but pleasing.

Au contraire, our meal at Mysore Woodlands was a ghastly, disgusting affair.

A forgettable experience. Ugh.

From the cold, bland coconut Chutney to the flavorless Sambar to the fraud of a Mysore Masala Dosa to the inedible Beans Poriyal and all the way down to the sugarless Madras Payasam, Mysore Woodlands is a disgrace. The Abhishek Bachchan of Indian restaurants on the East Coast.

Guys, a South Indian vegetarian restaurant that does not like to serve fresh Chutney to diners but instead dares to go Cold Chutney invites not only your contempt but begs you to yell out at the management: Lazy Swines, do you get no shame at all?

If the Coconut Chutney was a cold, bland monstrosity, the Tomato Chutney was a plain, awful travesty since it had a glut of Channa Dal and far too little chillies.

The disappointing Chutneys, the emaciated Medhu Vadas and offensively lukewarm Bajjis were but a forerunner of the miseries that lay ahead of us at the men of these serial sadists.

Just Curious Are the folk at Mysore Woodlands feeling the top of the corner so bad that they can`t afford to have in a few vegetables into their so-called Sambar? Worse, the Sambar had no tone and tasted like plain Dal.

As for Mysore Woodlands` Rasam, all we can say in that bilge water`s favor is that it was hot, i.e. temperature-wise. It was low on tamarind, low on pepper and low on flavor.

And like lots of what we tried at Mysore Woodlands, the Rasam was low on a competent chef`s touch.

Lousy Idli, Lousier Dosa The two Dosas we tried, Mysore Masala Dosa and Onion Rava Dosa were both travesties of the very thing.

Utterly flavorless, not in the least bit crisp, the masala paste unevenly smeared inside and containing a hopelessly bland potato filling, Mysore Woodlands` Mysore Masala Dosa is adequate to turn off even die-hard Dosa aficionados like us perpetually from this South Indian favorite.

Another put-off was the sharp but tasteless Onion Rava Dosa.

There was no let-up to our misery. To our horror, the Idlis were incompletely cooked inside.

Schmucks, You Address This Pongal We bet the imbeciles in Mysore Woodlands` kitchen have never tasted real Pongal in their lives.

If they had, they wouldn`t be serving this excuse of a Pongal that had far too little black pepper (a key factor of this popular South Indian item) and far too much Moong Dal.

Bet you a gazillion bucks, the chefs at Mysore Woodlands have no mind that such a matter as curry leaves exists.

Disgusting.

By the way, the Pongal could have also done with some ghee.

Avial and Palak Paneer were dark but by this time we`d endured worse and resigned ourselves to our Karma.

Pathetic Desserts God, nemesis continued to dog our heels even with desserts.

If the Madras Payasam and Gulab Jamun were the very things so we are the voluptuous Zeenat Aman.

Madras Payasam showed no show of any sugar in it presumably because some guy in Mysore Woodlands` kitchen had used up all of it for the Gulab Jamun syrup, which turned out cloyingly and annoyingly sweet.

One of the few saving graces of our meal was the Mysore Coffee. Unlike the South Indian coffee served at some restaurants in New Jersey and New York, this was the actual deal.

Service has improved compared to our experience two days back. Our waiter Harish (from Vijayawada) appeared dark in the start but toward the end condescended to sanctify us with a smile. Hey, miracles never cease.

Stay Away, Far Away Folks, Mysore Woodlands is one of those pathetic Indian restaurants in New Jersey that pleads to be shown the middle finger.

Given the tripe dished out to diners here, by no stint of vision would we consider Mysore Woodlands a real South Indian restaurant.

Au contraire, in our not so humble view Mysore Woodlands is the base of Marquis de Sade, who can`t expect to cut his cruel whip on you soon as you step into the portals of this wannabe Indian restaurant in Parsippany, NJ.