Passage to India

A recent movie that received lukewarm reviews in general but went down well with me is The Hundred-Foot Journey.

Dishing out a well-spiced story of an Indian family and their culinary traditions blending with French mother sauces was quite delightful, I thought, if predictable. And the titular unit is the distance between the two establishments, and ideologically, their two vastly different worlds. And it’s possible for the twain to meet.

La Porte Des Indes at The Address Dubai Mall draws similar parallels. A reputed chain that spawned in Brussels and then opened in London, Dubai is now home to only the third restaurant of the brand. And no prizes for guessing what the name means.

Labelling the food here is not quite as simple or banal as “a fusion of Indian and French cuisines”. Paradoxically, it is Indo-French cuisine, not so much a partnership as a culinary offspring. For India lays good claim to French heritage, the latter having established colonial rule between the 17th and 20th centuries in a few tiny pockets — right under the noses of the majority British — in Pondicherry, Karaikal, Mahé. Three centuries created a harmonious blend of cultures and cuisines, deriving the best from the originals and concocting into something unique — anyone who’s been to the above places will vouch for that.

Enter through the portals of La Porte Des Indes, however, and you feel none of that. The décor and interiors are as modern and glossy as is wont of a five-star establishment. It’s all night blue and silvery, very lounge and contemporary. The minimal dark wood furniture is comfortable, even if you feel you’re on stage on the raised seating area, and half expect a band or some entertainers to pop out from the recessed-lit corners.

The menu, also, is designed to shake diners’ taste buds out of a stupor — two kinds of diners that is. The hardcore desi cuisine buff who likes his spices and gravies as they are, and the non-Indian lover of the cuisine, open to stretching their gastronomic boundaries, but can still expect to be surprised here. Aiding this is the specially crafted Maison Menu by chef Vishal Rane that lets you sample a “little bit of everything” (this is apart from the regular à la carte menu). Parfait.

The very first item is a melt-in-the-mouth Demoiselles de Pondicherry starter — grilled king scallops in a delicate saffron sauce with just a touch of garlic. It’s a succulent must-have, and kickstarts the art of reconstructing essentially Indian ingredients with a contemporary twist. The Murgh Malai Kebab is again as subcontinental as it gets (you think), but it is marinated in cream cheese, not the traditional sour cream or yoghurt. Grilled Tandoori Broccoli florets are again offbeat — marinated in lime, lemon grass and cheese, but not particularly memorable.

The mains are definitely crowd favourites — with chicken, lamb, seafood and vegetarian options — sticking more to the Indian half of things. The Crevettes Assadh is juicy tiger prawns simmered in a mild coconut curry that’s a many-layered broth featuring green mangoes, turmeric, chillies and ginger. More cream and yog-hurt marinated chicken is only a foil for the strong red spices in the Poulet Rouge, a house speciality.

I’ve always maintained that the best lamb chops I’ve had always come from the street food vendors, the smaller Turkish-Arabian or Pakistani joints. But LPDI does a close second with their Barra Lamb Chops, marinated with browned onions and garam masala and chargrilled to perfection. It’s just the exact blend of slightly salty, juicy, succulent meat with the right bite off the bones. Again, not inclined to the vegetarian half of food, I can’t quite recall the taste of the smoked Rougail d’ Aubergine, which is a Pondicherry speciality no less. But “ghaas phoos” (vegetarians, in subcontinental lingo) lovers — take heed and heart — there’s a separate Vegetarian Menu Maison, with star items like Paneer Kebabs, Chard Pakoras, Kadai Subzi and Tadka Dal.

All the food is perfectly set off with delicately cooked saffron rice and Indian breads. The experience is all about taking your culinary familiarities, dunking them into unlikely ingredients, and marinating in the unforeseen. The clincher? Tandoori Seared Foie Gras — as chalk and cheese as it can get.

There are times the food falls just that much short of greatness, or gives the feeling that some of the combinations or ingredients could be rethought, but that’s to be expected from anything that strays from the conventional, n’est ce pas?

Proverbially last but not least, you can choose your spice levels from “medium hot”, “hot” to “very hot” — a true desi touch to balance classic French restraint.

marypaulose@khaleejtimes.com

• Food and Dining