Winston: Indian food, dinner? You down?
Schmidt: I thought maybe we'd eat at a place where you wanted to eat at tonight, Winston. As a strong black man.
Winston: What? What are you talking about?
Schmidt: Hey, man, I get it. There are just some nights where I'm dying for my zadie's egg salad, pastrami piled a mile high, some matzo, kreplach... Let's eat some soul food.
Winston: Schmidt, I want Indian, southern Indian.