Tag Archives: Indian food

Tandoori Flames

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Tandoori Flames, 15 Vernon St, South Kingsville. Phone: 9078 2769

“So very disappointing, the place seemed to be full of family.”

This line from a recent diner’s comment about a new Yarraville eatery springs immediately to mind while we are enjoying our dinner at Tandoori Flames in South Kingsville.

Look, I know there’s horses for courses when it comes to restaurants, and that some folks like a quiet time.

Others are looking for a romantic vibe.

Others, too, don’t dig kids cluttering up cafes … and others again think flat-screen TVs have no place in any kind of eating establishment at all.

I’m sure it’s possible to have a quiet time at Tandoori Flames and even a romantic dinner, if that’s to your liking.

But based on this Father’s Day evening, you’d probably aim for a night earlier in the week.

By the time we’re halfway through our meal, the place is packed and the staff are very busy.

Even better, a passel of kids – half of them in-house variety, half of them customer offspring – are cavorting merrily all over the place and even playing tag between the tables.

No one minds.

No one cares.

No food is spilt.

Everyone is happy – including us!

And I see just a single admonishment issued to the young man who is the senior member of the group – something along the lines of, “Keep it down a little, eh?”, I presume.

I had earlier asked this character, who was polishing cutlery with his sister, how much he was getting paid.

His reply was instantaneous and emphatic:

“I don’t get paid – this is my restaurant!”

This would be Harnoor, son of Tandoori Flames proprietor Jimmy – and we’ll let them settle the ownership details.

We’re here as Jimmy’s guests (full disclosure below).

We were always going to make it to Tandoori Flames at some point, but his email spurred us into action – yes, we’d love to join the throng for Father’s Day dinner.

Jimmy tells me he and his crew have been at these premises for five years and that previous to that the building housed, variously, a Yugoslav social establishment, a sports club and a gay/lesbian hangout called My Sisters Lounge.

The interior is quite different from what I am expecting.

An irregularly-shaped room, plain brick walls, exposed beams, chandeliers, dancefloor and even a disco ball.

It’s funky and welcoming and we feel right at home.

As we enter, the band is cranking out – much to my surprise – a rowdy version of Cannonball Adderley’s Mercy, Mercy, Mercy.

After that, they throttle back for wide-ranging mix of soul and pop covers that sit right well with the crowd – by the time we leave, the dancefloor is doing good business.

In his email, Jimmy had stated: “I would love to serve you with our speciality items …”

So we take the bold option of leaving our meal in his hands, just mentioning that we’d like to try some stuff from the tandoor oven and a little seafood.

This proves a mistake – but not because the food we are provided is bad or even unenjoyable.

I just wish I’d kept my wits about me and said: “Please, Jimmy, no butter chicken!”

Being only a moderate fan of paneer, chilly paneer lazeez ($14.90) – “cottage cheese cubes battered fried then wok fried with shallots, bell pepper soya sauce and red chilli sauce” – finds only moderate favour with me. I actually prefer the accompanying vegetables more.

But, to my surprise, Bennie really likes the paneer, happily stabbing successive cubes until our next platter arrives.

Tandoori mixed grill ($19.90) is the goods and one of two outright food highlights of our night.

“Seek kebab”, like shish kkofta and nicely chewy but maybe a little on the dry side.

Two succulent lamb cutlets.

And, best of all, chicken tikka and tandoori chicken.

The various bits of chook are outstanding and juicy.

Maybe a little less of the lurid orange of typical tandoori chicken, and a whole lot more herbs and spices and a big flavour whack of lemon.

And all the meats go even better with the onions into which the cooking juices have soaked.

We scarf the lot, no problem.

Butter chicken ($15.50)? This is probably a good version, but it’s simply not my thing – or even of much appeal to Bennie.

Tender chicken, but it’s so rich and so sweet!

(Any ideas why this is THE dish most people order in Indian restaurants?)

Dal makhani ($12.50) is creamily rich, too, but the blend of black lentils is silky and smooth.

After all that richness, prawn malabar ($17.90) comes as a relief and is our other big thumbs-up for the night.

There’s a lot of prawns, every one of which have that “bursty” thing going on that fine prawns always do.

The gravy is just right – coconut-based and laced with mustard seeds and flavoured, too, with curry leaves.

Our meal is completed by one apiece of good garlic ($3) and mint ($3.50) naans.

We’re full and then some – but, naturally, Bennie has no problem finding room for his tall glass of jelly, ice cream and fruit that goes by the title of Tutti Frutti.

Aside from getting a couple of dishes we wouldn’t normally choose – no one’s fault, that, except mine – we’ve had a ball at Tandoori Falmes and really adore the happy family vibes.

There’s Indian music of a more restrained variety on Friday nights and belly dancing on Saturday nights.

And, yes, the place has a couple of wall-mounted flat-screen TVs!

Check out the Tandoori Flames website, including menu, here.

Our meal at Tandoori Flames was provided free of charge by the owner in return for a story on Consider The Sauce. The food we enjoyed was chosen by the management. Tandoori Flames had no editorial control of this post.

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Biryani House

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Biryani House, 339 King St, West Melbourne. Phone: 9329 4323

Things change, bringing new routines and vistas.

Some work in Media House, requiring a two-minute walk from Southern Cross Station after a breezy 15-minute train ride.

Long may it last …

Another employment prospect requiring visits to the North Melbourne, West Melbourne, Vic Market area.

These may not qualify as western suburbs territory, but getting to them sure feels a lot more like nicking down to the neighbourhood shops than would getting to anywhere near Spring St, so I’m not complaining.

And, of course, there’s a lot of ever-changing foodiness going and worth exploring.

Business beckons, but before I heed its call I head across Flagstaff Gardens for a place on the CTS hit list.

I’ve long ago made my peace with the seeming fact that restaurant biryani is not perhaps always – if ever – what biryani should be.

I don’t care about tiresome debates about authenticity, and really like – for instance – the biryani at Indi Hots in Footscray.

And I have high hopes of a good rice meal at a place named after the dish is specialises in.

It’s a cheerful CBD cafe-style eatery that attracts a wide range of workers from nearby offices and workplaces. A lot of them are Indian and the service is brisk.

I’m surprised – maybe even a little shocked and dismayed – to be presented my chicken biryani ($9.90) minus any curry gravy.

It’s explained to me they’ve run out of the gravy specifically made for biryanis, but that I’m welcome to an equivalent pot of sauce from one of the bain marie curries.

That’s cool by me, and in fact the sauce from the chicken madras is just right for the job, with a nice, rich texture and flavour and nowhere near as fiery as its name suggests.

The raita is good, too, in that lovely, runny way that is commonplace with restaurant biryani.

The rice is more of a uniform yellow than is the norm, which is a mix of yellow and white grains. And it’s bit more moist than usual.

But it’s fine, redolent of the expected perfume of cinnamon and cardamon.

The chicken is a single maryland from a very small bird, but happily there’s enough flesh for a satisfying lunch and the meat comes from the bones with ease.

Heat levels in my biryani are typically rather high, but not overly so.

Just as good a bet here seem to be the regular curries served in combos ranging from $6.90 up to $8.50.

For the lower price you can get a single meat curry or two vegetable curries and rice – quite a deal considering the heaping size of the serves I see around me.

The paneer and peas is very popular.

Biryani House on Urbanspoon

Gulati’s

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Gulati’s, 23 Harrington Square, Altona. Phone: 9315 9655

The process of stumbling upon Gulati’s had been an unusual one.

Reading online news stories about a shocking, brutal incidence of urban violence, on one level my mind had been in something akin to shock.

On another, it had been asking questions: “Book shop? Harrington Square? Altona? What?”

Some quick twiddling with Google maps soon verified the whereabouts of an Altona nook on which we’d never laid eyes.

More quick twiddling – this time with street view – allowed me to play cyber rubbernecker.

Ambling around the square with my mouse, I soon gazed upon the book shop in question.

And right next door – Oh, yes! – was an Indian restaurant.

A few weeks later, and I am standing in the car park of Harrington Square, a medium-to-small suburban shopping precinct.

Book shop? Check. Indian restaurant? Check.

Even better, on the other side of the eatery is a Thai joint, while another of Indian persuasion lies across the square.

Gulati’s itself is quite different from the cheap eats/takeaway shack I had in my mind’s eye.

In fact, it’s quite chic and a pleasant space to spend some time in.

Gawd – there’s even cloth napkins!

(This is usually taken by us a symbol of fine dining …)

This means I’ll be spending more than had been anticipated when setting out on my eat-and-run Saturday night adventure.

But what the hey – I figure a low-key Kenny treat is definitely in order.

The service is friendly but a little on the slow side to begin with – but that’s OK; it is early in the evening.

Gulati’s is pretty much a straight-up suburban Indian eatery with all the usuals, including tandoori goodies, and none of your dosas or Indo-Chinese options.

Meat/fish mains cost $12, vegetable mains $9.50.

I break my own “plain naan only” rule by ordering onion kulcha ($3) and am really happy to have done so.

The small onions pieces add a sweetness and complexity to a very good piece of bread that has a nice chewiness to it.

Machere jhol ($12), described as “fish cooked with eggplant – a taste of Bengal”, is marvellous.

There’s a goodly number of small, boneless and firm but beautifully cooked cutlets of what I subsequently discover is rockling mixing it with tender, delicious chunks of eggplant.

I later discover online numerous versions of this Bengali recipe, but there are so many variations I find it hard to discern any single theme.

And none that I find include the mustard seeds that provide such a fine pop and texture to the lovely and apparently unoily curry gravy of my dish.

My plain rice ($2.50) is OK, the raita ($3) thick and creamy and with scant cucumber quotient.

As I wrap up a most enjoyable dinner, Gulati’s has become companionably busy with locals.

I envy them having this place as a local.

In the meantime, I’ll have to return on another day to peruse the book shop.

Given the scarcity of book shops in the west, I’m excited by the prospect

Gulatis Indian Restaurant on Urbanspoon

Pandu’s

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Pandu’s, 351 Barkly St, Footscray. Phone: 0468 378 789

It seems there are very few Indian restaurants in Melbourne – or, at least, in the wider western realms in which we roam – that do not offer at least a few Indo-Chinese dishes on their menus these days.

Pandu’s, however, is one of a very few that offers nothing but.

Before venturing out to dine at the new Pandu’s in Footscray, I fossick around online trying to find out more about this intriguing food style – without much success.

So before Bennie and I order our meal, I ask Pandu himself.

Having presumed Indo-Chinese tucker is the spawn of metropolitan India and/or the worldwide Indian diaspora, I am somewhat surprised to hear him attribute it largely to states close to the border with China such as Assam.

He tells me there is no use in his kitchen of traditional Indian spices such as cumin or coriander. There is a heavy use of ginger and garlic, and sauces such as soy and Sichuan.

There’s a zingy aspect to it all that I have attributed to vinegar and/or lemon juice. These are used, I am told, but not so heavily as I have imagined.

(If anyone can offer more by way of the life and times of Indo-Chinese food, we’d love to hear from you!)

We’d enjoyed a couple of cool meals at the previous Pandu’s premises in Buckley St, so are very much looking forward to checking the new place out.

The fit-out of the rather large eatery is rather unusual.

On the one hand, the seats are plush in a way that cheap eats us are quite unaccustomed to.

As opposed to a recent comment on our Pandu’s preview post, we found them perfectly comfy and fine for dining.

The dark-stained tables, on the other hand, appear to be have been constructed out of glorified plywood.

The overall effect is one of ritzy cheap eats – and we like that a lot.

If that means this specialised restaurant delivers Indo-Chinese food cheaper than do your average Indian places who have some Indo-Chinese on their menus, then we’re all for it.

And it does. Indeed, the prices seem to have hardly risen at all in the transition.

Pandu knows perfectly well who we are and what we’re about, so we score a couple of complimentary offerings, though I have no doubt these or our actual menu choices are no different from what other customers receive.

Just saying …

A complementary salad is just some simple spinach leaves and shredded vegetables. A spiced eggplant sludge and yogurt combine to make a dressing for what is a nice appetiser.

The choice of vegetable-chicken sweet corn soup ($4.95) is down to Bennie, but I’m interested to see what the kitchen does with this Chinese staple.

The answer is … not a lot different.

It’s less viscous than we’d receive in a Chinese place, and there are a few more vegetable varieties, but nevertheless it’s a nice, plain starter given what we know is to come.

Chicken 65 ($8.95) is another Bennie choice on account of his fondness for the version at Hyderabad Inn up the road. He’s an expert!

This is OK but could be hotter and the chicken lacks flavour.

The seasoning and accompanying jumble of curry leaves, onion, capsicum and chilli is ace, however, and is the same flavour explosion we’d loved about vegetable 65 and mushoom 65 on previous visits.

Mixed noodles ($11.95)? They’re Bennie’s choice, too. Why isn’t he writing this instead of slothing it on the sofa watching Cartoon Network? One of life’s mysteries …

A big bowl of squiggly egg noodles is packed with finely chopped vegetables and pieces of chicken, omelette and prawn.

This is a mild but pleasing dish, with each of us seasoning to our specific requirements from the small bowls of tomato and soy sauces and chilli oil and chilli vinegar provided.

This seems like an Indo-Chinese version of the revered Nepalese chowmin.

Cauliflower Manchurian ($8.95) is the hit of the night – although I’d in no way suggest this is due to the fact it’s not a Bennie selection.

In contrast to the dryish chicken 65, the large and battered cauliflower chunks are coated with a dark, sticky and sweet sauce. The vegetable pieces are pleasantly firm and – best of all – the cauliflower flavour comes through despite the high level of seasoning.

Another flavour bomb!

We’ve stuck mostly to water during our meal, but have also enjoyed complementary long, tall glasses of housemade cashew milk, which the restaurant sells for $3.95.

This is divine – lusciously creamy, sweet and perfumed with cardamom.

It’s less drink and more like dessert – think pannacotta or creme brulee!

We’ve enjoyed our debut repast at the new Pandu’s – the mix of plain (sweet corn soup, noodles) with rampant seasoning (cauliflower, chicken) has been spot on.

Pandu’s Indian-style barbecue is scheduled for action the day after our visit, so awaits our next visit, at which time we’ll seek to explore some of the fish and prawn options.

Pandus on Urbanspoon

Tandoori chicken

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One of the many pleasures of eating out for us is taking the opportunity to peruse copies of the immigrant community street press that may otherwise not come our way.

Far more often than not this means reading one or more of the many of the variety of rags that issue forth from the Indian community.

What an idiosyncratic treat they are … charmingly quirky use of English, heaps of Bollywood news and interviews, sport, politics, astrology, adverts seeking marriage partners and, of course, food stuff, recipes, ads for restaurants and producers that may be the next pot of gold.

It was while reading a copy of Indian Times – I forget exactly which Indian estebalishment was involved – that I came across this recipe for tandoori chicken.

I’d never thought of attempting this dish at home before, though we do eat it sometimes.

Bennie and I enjoy the affordable tandoori chook available from Classic Curry in Sunshine, for instance.

Though much like a lot of other people, I’m guessing, we wonder about the health aspects of that lurid colouring.

But why not give it a crack at home?

For starters, the skin-off chicken used has to be at least a little bit more righteous than the deep-fried and barbecue chicken of Filipino, Malaysian and Japanese derivation we often enjoy.

As well, I was beyond doubt that cooking this would fill our home with the most amazing aromas.

Instead of a whole chook, I used three marylands cut into leg and thigh pieces.

I pan-toasted the appropriate spices, though I didn’t get so gung ho as to do them separately.

I omitted the chilli powder, which no doubt accounts for the mild tan colouring.

Indeed, this ended up looking unlike any restaurant tandoori chook I’ve ever seen.

But I didn’t let that worry me – I was far more interested in the taste.

To that end, it tasted very fine – and Bennie dug it, too.

I used a single teaspoon of salt instead of the two stipulated in the Indian Times recipe.

Finally, I chose to not brush the pieces with oil before putting them in the oven, figuring the marinade and chicken fat combined would ensure a moist and juicy result.

INGREDIENTS

1 chicken cut into bits, or equivalent in chicken pieces, skin off.

1/2 cup plain yogurt

juice of 1 lemon

1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh garlic

1 tablespoon freshly grated ginger

1 tablespoon cumin seeds

1 teaspoon coriander seeds

1/2 teaspoon green cardamom pods

1/4 teaspoon whole cloves

1/2 teaspoon black peppercorns

1 teaspoon salt

METHOD

1. Heat fry pan over low medium-heat. When hot, throw in cumin and coriander seeds and cardamom pods. Stir/shake frequently until the spices are tanned – but be careful not to burn them.

2. Throw roasted spices in mortar and pestle.

3. Crack open cardamom pods, return seeds to vessel and discard the pods.

4. Add peppercorns and cloves.

5. Hand grind spices until a fine powder is formed.

6. Throw in grated ginger and chopped garlic, and pound/grind with spices until a dryish paste is formed.

7. Add paste to a large bowl, add yogurt, lemon juice and salt, and mix until well blended.

8. Add chicken pieces to yogurt blend and ensure all the chook is well coated.

9. Cover and place in refrigerator for at least eight hours or overnight.

10. Pre-heat oven to 220-230C.

11. Shake off excess marinade from chicken pieces and place on a rack placed over a baking tray with a tin foil lining.

12. Cook, turning once, for about half an hour or until cooked.

13. Eat, enjoy.

We had our tandoori chicken in the simple style in which it is most often served in restaurants – with tomato and cucumber slices.

Indi Hots

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Indi Hots, 82 Hopkins St, Footscray. Phone: 9687 4626

Indi Hots has moved house – but only a few doors up Hopkins St to No.82.

The new place has more of a restaurant feel to it, as opposed to the utilitarian canteen vibe of the previous one.

All else seems to have remained the same – food, clientele, service and welcome.

In my first test drive of the new premises, I do what all my fellow patrons are doing and order a biryani.

My understanding is that biryani is a special occasion, celebratory rice dish that is extremely unlikely to be found in its full-blown glory in restaurants regardless of any price scale.

Maybe one day I’ll be invited to a Hyderabad wedding …

In the meantime, and within the confines of commercial realities, my Indi Hots biryani is as good as I can recall enjoying.

It may not have all the bells and whistles of the “real thing”, but it at least conveys the impression of being a close, if slightly impoverished, relative.

My Special Hyderabadi Goat Dhum Biryani costs $13.50 and comes with curry gravy, runny raita that I have come to love, half a hard-boiled egg and a can of soft drink.

The plentiful goat meat is not really tender but easily edible. Surprisingly, and happily, only about half of it is on the bone, the rest being just meat.

The spice level is sneaky.

What at first seems quite benign mounts steadily as I eat so my brow is sweating by the end.

It’s a fine thing because I am not only robust of appetite but also in one of those moods when some kick-arse spicy food is just the ticket.

The rice is oily in a nice way and interspersed with fresh coriander and lovely strands of fried brown onion.

With the egg, gravy, raita providing variety of flavours and textures, this is a beaut feast.

As ever when I order biryani, I find there’s simply too much rice for me to eat – but I’m surprised nonetheless how much of it I tuck away.

Indi Hots remains a cool and reliable place for a cheap, quick and tasty Indian feed.

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South Melboune Market

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South Melbourne Market, 322-326 Coventry St, South Melbourne.

Having mused on the mindset that allows us to treat a suburb as far distant as Coburg as part of own backyard yet finds South and Port Melbourne – just over the bridge – pretty much out of sight and mind, it seems a fine time to make a relatively rare visit to South Melbourne Market.

Any hopes the shocking weather will ease the car-parking situation are confirmed as forlorn as I ascend to the roof-top and several patience-taxing delays.

There’s a lot of folks looking spaces.

The first two hours of parking are free, which is good.

All the ATMs appear to be of the $2.50 variety, which is bad.

It’s obviously been a while as many changes to the market are noted.

A part of the market interior now has several stalls of a more upmarket variety – manchester, clothes, shoes and even flash bicycles.

The whole of the Cecil St side of the market has acquired a series of more-or-less bona fide restaurants – Chinese dumplings/roast meats, Italian, Spanish, seafood – to join the familiar SMM dimmies.

The street stall paella sure looks and smells a whole heap better than is usually the case with such ricey enterprises.

Perversely if somewhat predictably, I still prefer the old-school food hall on the other side of the market.

More room, cheaper prices, proximity to the fabulous deli, meat and seafood stalls …

Equally predictably and perversely, I am lured to the Vietnamese stall called BaBa.

They have banh mi makings on display and you can get soup noodles and vermicelli dishes here.

But my eye is drawn to the stall’s Indian dishes.

Indian and Vietnamese?

I’ve seen Indian and kebabs, Indian and pizza, but this is a first.

My plate of vegetable curry, dal and rice, a can of soft drink and a meat samosa costs $12.50.

The samosa is on the oily side, but the filling is good and meaty. The parcel as a whole could only loosely be described as Indian food, though. No matter!

It has a nice chilli kick, as do my two plate courses.

The curry of carrot, beans, onion and more starts at a nice clip but fades off the pace a bit.

The dal is much better – yellow split peas with a nice touch of firmness left in them, the whole having a plain but very appealing flavour.

That’s down to, I subsequently discover, crushed tomatoes, tamarind, turmeric, salt and water.

While in the food hall, I grab a bag of Turkish rolls from Aroma Bakery.

These may be just right for lunches for the forthcoming week, feeling as they do a bit fresher and lighter than the supermarket variety or their ciabatta cousins.

We usually find both too heavy, stale and/or large, so the balance of bread to filling is way out of whack.

I get my post-lunch coffee from Padre, which seems to be one of those new-school cool coffee chains staffed exclusively by young hipsters.

My cafe latte is perfect, outstanding and puts a smile on my dial.

I have an interesting conversation with Ida from Ida’s Alterations.

Me, pointing at the sign: “Ida’s such lovely old-fashioned name – are you Ida?”

Ida: “My son, my son …”

Me: “Your son’s name is Ida?”

Ida: “No, the sign, the sign!”

Right – she’s Ida, he did the sign …

I grab onions, silverbeet and apples from one of the fresh stalls.

South Melbourne Market?

Nice for a visit every now and then.

But I still had to stop in Anderson St for milk, yogurt and dishwash liquid.

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Cafe Sarabella

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Cafe Sarabella, 1 Victoria St, Coburg. Phone: 9354 5239

Soul food was originally a term used to describe Afro-American food of quite a wide range cooked and eaten in the southern parts of the US, although given the migratory patterns of last century it’s easily found on both coasts and elsewhere as well.

Soul food, though, is also a perfect description for Cafe Sarabella – not just the delicious food, but also the cafe itself and the warmly welcoming vibe.

It’s situated in Victoria St Mall, which is a lively and lived-in community space.

About half the outdoor tables and chairs seem to be the territory of the various food joints that line the mall, the rest public and communal.

There’s cafes, a couple of hot looking falafel joints, a deli and more.

Every time I’ve been there the mall is chockers with locals of a dizzy range of ages, styles and national origins hanging out, often over coffee.

Cafe Sarabella – it’s named after a mother and daughter team – has been open for about seven years and serves terrific Indian food and a more.

There’s lamb dishes of Persian and Moroccan derivation, for instance, and a chicken laksa. You can get a masala dosa, too.

It’s a tiny, homely space, with seating for maybe half a dozen inside and two small outside tables.

There’s nothing small about the big-hearted and friendly service, though.

Sara, who originally hails from Kerala, runs Indian cooking classes on one Sunday a month for $75 a head.

She tells me that much of her food is made using fresh vegetables provided by her customers, so much of it is organic. In return, she either pays them or feeds them!

One such customer-inclined item is the incredible feijoa, cumquat and tomato chutney that accompanies my vegetable thali ($10.50).

It’s supremely tangy, spicy super dooper condiment.

The rest of my plate’s contents are just as fine …

Two vegetable curries, one with radish, carrots and zucchini, the other with baby carrots and green beans.

Big dollop of creamy yogurt.

Plain yet perfect yellow dal atop the rice.

The surprise is provided by melt-in-your-mouth silky tofu pieces perfectly matched with a spiced tomatoey gravy.

While many of the curries and other dishes listed on the blackboard menu are priced as main courses, Sara tells me she’s happy to assemble combo-style thali meals to suit.

Given the hefty customer input and the consequent seasonal aspect of the food here, I suspect there’s many a surprise to be had by regular visitors.

As we’re talking, she lets me try a mouthful of spud from the lamb and potato curry sitting atop the stove – it’s amazing!

But the most appealing thing about Cafe Sarabella is that it serves pure-bred home-cooked Indian food – so different from the often tasty but overly buttery, salty and rich fare served up by so many of our Indian restaurants.

There’s no fried food here – even the samosas are baked.

The Quince Poacher, a Coburg local, is a fan, too – read review here.

Open for lunch Monday-Saturday.

Cafe Sarabella on Urbanspoon

Sharma’s Indian Sweet & Curry House

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Sharma’s Indian Sweet & Curry House, 4/350 Taylors Rd, Taylors Lakes. Phone: 9356 4400

A spur-of-the-moment email earlier in the week had ascertained that, yes indeed, we had pals only too eager to join the Consider The Sauce boys for an Anzac Day lunch feast.

After a bit of umming and ahhing, we settle on Sharma’s Indian Sweet & Curry House in Taylors Lakes – it’s a bit of a drive, but all hands are keen.

Those hands being Bennie and his dad; Bruce and his daughter, Maddy, who joined us for a memorable Saturday lunch not so long ago and who this time bring the other sibling, Josie, along for the fun; and our pal Nat, a sort of Mr Prolific of Urbanspoon. 

As it turns out, Anzac Day weather is of extreme suckiness, so what better way to spend the day than heading out on a curry adventure?

I’d visited Sharma’s on my ownsome some time ago, but am pleased that everyone is keen as I am to pursue the rather extensive menu further.

First up, we are delivered a bowl of freshly fried papadums.

They’re oily but crisp. Best of all, they’re on the house – and good on management for that, easily producing some goodwill at little cost where other eateries see only a chance for more profit.

It takes a while, but we knuckle down with a rather broad order that we hope will please everyone at least some of the time and leave us all happily contented.

Here’s what we get:

Atish bahaar sizzler ($16.50) – two each of samosas, onion bhaji, aloo tikki and veg pakora.

Special goat curry ($13.50).

Chicken butter cream ($12.50).

Tava chicken ($12.50) – a curry with herbs, spices, coriander and ginger.

Singapore Punjab noodles ($11.50).

Two serves of plain rice ($3.50 each)

Four plain naan ($2 each).

We order mild levels of spiciness to fit in with Bennie, who has become a bit gun shy of chilli in the past few months. Mild we get, to the, um, mild disappointment of some – especially Josie, who turn out to be something of a Spice Princess!

The snack combo platter (top picture) is very fine – good value for sharing, with a variety of different flavours and textures, and all for the most part remarkably grease-free.

It becomes a bit messy as we try to make sure each of us has taste of each component, but it’s all good fun.

The various fried snacks are served with some tamarind syrup and a mint relish that is less creamy and more spicy and piquant than those normally found in Indian restaurants. It’s a beaut flavour hit.

The chicken butter cream (left) and special goat curry (right) find favour with those who lobbied for their inclusion.

Those digging the goat concoction agree that the bone-sucking involved in meals made with cheaper cuts of meat is priceless.

The tava chicken is nice enough, too, though to me seems to symbolise the curries generally – very much of the onion/tomato/cream/spices gravy base and less of the spectacularly individual dishes we have enjoyed lately at Mishra’s Kitchen and Yummy India. Though both those places do your standard curry house recipes as well.

Singapore Punjab noodles – unsurprisingly when you think about the connections – is basically just a vegetarian mee goreng. It’s nice, though, and adds a bit of variety, colour, contrast and vegetable matter to our meal.

Our plain naan breads are fine specimens of their kind.

As Bruce says, ordering them is a good way to find out if a curry house has its mojo going.

We’ve all enjoyed a lovely lunch.

Aside from the already mentioned curry uniformity, I’d also point out that the serves are rather modest and the meat quotient on the low side.

No matter, really – everyone is happy to adhere to the spirit of “it’s not the meat, it’s the gravy” by mopping up the sauces with the naan.

Moreover, the reasonable prices and the power of numbers means the bill comes to a very excellent $83 – or about $14 each.

We all have a gander at Sharma’s wide sweets range before buying some to take back to our respective homes and heading out into the bleak Melbourne day.

Thanks for the company!

Sharma's Indian Sweet & Curry House on Urbanspoon

Mishra’s Kitchen – another look

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Mishra’s Kitchen, 18 Wembley Ave, Yarraville. Phone: 9314 3336

Our adventures have taken us elsewhere since our first visit to Mishra’s Kitchen, but we are delighted to grab a last-minute opportunity to step out for a quick midweek dinner.

The place still has something of the feel of a sandwich shop, but it’s more Indian restaurant these days.

In any case, we find the vibe charming.

As are the friendliness and service.

Moreover, we tell our waiter that we are here for a quickie bite, not for a night out – it’s already late-ish on a school night and we desire not to tarry.

Our meal comes quickly, efficiently and full of flavour.

Maybe it’s time for a new rule for us – stop ordering stuffed breads.

Our Kashmiri naan ($3.50) and mint paratha ($3.50) are good.

But really, the fillings – a fruity mince in the former, mashed spuds in the latter – seem to add nothing to our eating experience.

Could be plain old chapati, paratha, naan is the way to go for us henceforth – cheaper for sure, and quite possibly more in harmony with the curries we order.

Ordering chicken korma ($11) is an easy choice given Bennie’s enthusiasm based on a delicious experience shared with his mum on another visit.

It’s a good call – this is the sort of distinctive dish that make us love places such Mishra’s Kitchen or Yummy India in Deer Park and their super honey-infused lamb lajawab.

My photo is misleading.

For starters, there’s a lot more chicken in there than appears to be the case.

Nor does the pic convey, of course, the mild yet rich flavour of the gravy.

This korma sauce consists of almonds, cashews, yogurt, a little coconut, mace, white pepper, garlic, ginger and onions.

Also used are kewra water, a sort of Indian version of rose water made with pandanus flowers, and a sprinkling of raisins.

So different, so good!

Aloo gobi ($9) is more along the lines of routine curry house fare – a nice mushy blend of cauliflower, spuds and spices.

I like it fine, Bennie finds it just a tad too spicy.

It’s been lovely to revisit Mishra’s Kitchen and find it can easily fit into the quick meal context.

Chef Sanjeev suggests next time we try one of the fish dishes.

We’ll be taking him up on that – maybe it’ll be way of boosting the lad’s current and profound lack of enthusiasm for just about anything fishy.

Mishra's Kitchen on Urbanspoon

Yummy India

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Yummy India, 21 Westwood Drive, Deer Park. Phone: 8337 0760

Yummy India in Deer Park has long been on our radar and finally the day has arrived.

We just didn’t think that in a million years the day would arrive on a Good Friday.

We’d already made Good Friday plans that involved the eating of Lebanese food in Coburg, but then the Yummy India folk posted on their Facebook page the day before that, yes, they’d be open over Easter – including for Good Friday lunch.

Really?

A pre-drive phone call ascertains that all is good and as advertised, so off we go.

The allure of Yummy India has for us is certainly to do with the pursuit of a good feed.

But it must be confessed the appeal is also undoubtedly to do with the restaurant’s location – on a Deer Park industrial estate and surrounded by fencing and swimming pool companies.

Of course, on this Good Friday there’s not a lot of traffic or any other kind of business going.

Like us, our mate Tony is transfixed and delighted by the sheer perversity, magicality and uniqueness of such a setting for such a restaurant.

Unsurprisingly, we are the only Good Friday lunch customers, although the service we receive is of the highest order and very friendly.

Our genial waiter tells they expect some takeaway orders and more trade by dinner time.

He certainly does the right thing by us right from the start be preventing us from over-ordering in a spectacular fashion.

The sort of rich and hearty food available here is quite a ways removed from the dosas, snack food and cut-rate thalis that are our normal Indian fare.

Nevertheless we’re out with a good friend and prepared to spend some money in order to get a fulsome, well-rounded lunch.

Three entrees, three mains and all the bits and pieces?

No, no, we are told – that’s too much.

And so it proves to be.

When asked about spice levels, I say – over Bennie’s protests – that medium will be fine.

Our entrees – which are at the upper end of our spice capacities – prove Bennie correct, and luckily we are in time to have the rest of our meal adjusted towards the mild end of the spectrum.

We are still learning our way with Indo-Chinese food, but that learning is involving increasing levels of enjoyment.

Apart from spice levels a tad too high for us, chilli and garlic mushrooms ($11.95) and chicken 65 ($12.95) have the high levels of oil we are coming to expect from this kind of food.

Moreover, despite the different names the flavours of both seem very similar, and the chook and mushie protagonists chewy where elsewhere I’ve enjoyed a more explosive crispness.

Not to be too picky, though – we enjoy both.

These are, of course, rather pricey for what are listed as entrees, but the serves are very big.

That trend continues with our main course curries and even the super large serve of raita ($3.50).

Indeed, I’m pretty sure the metal pots in which our curries arrive are bigger than those used in many other Indian restaurants of this type.

Nawabi chicken ($13.95) is, I’m told, based on a cashew nut gravy with your standard Indian spices and some tomato paste.

There’s some whole cashews, too, and what seems to be largish chunks of chicken breast are tender.

It’s  good, rich chicken curry.

The lamb lajawab ($12.95) is our meal’s highlight.

It, too, is based on a cashew nut gravy.

But this one is heavily laced with honey, giving it an aromatic flavour that is unlike that of any curry any of us have previously tried.

It’s delicious!

The lamb pieces are on the small side, and there’s not that many of them, but the meat is tender and lovely.

Apart from the advertised nuts and spices, I suspect both our curries also likely have a cream quotient on board, but if we were going to get squeamish about such things we would never have come.

Our garlic naan ($3.50) is oddly unbuttered and even quite crispy but still fine.

The aloo paratha ($3.50) has an obvious and oily sheen, but is quite good, too.

Despite a few mis-steps, Yummy India has restored our faith in the value of more formal, “special occasion”, expensive and rich Indian food.

The prices seem very typical, but the serves are large. Our lunch fare ends up costing us about $22 each, which is very good value indeed.

Where else would you get such a fine Indian meal on a Good Friday lunch-time?

And certainly, parking is never going to be a problem here, no matter the time or day.

(For those seeking lighter food, Yummy India also does idli, vada and dosas.)

Yummy India on Urbanspoon

Dal deluxe

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I learned this style of dal cooking from Yamua Devi’s book, The Art of Indian Vegetarian Cooking.

Sub-titled Lord Krishna’s Cuisine, this book details spiritually inclined Indian cooking that eschews – marvellous word! – garlic and onions.

Instead, many of the dishes use chillis, ginger, lemon juice and coriander.

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups pulses

1 tsp turmeric

salt (optional)

good-sized chunk fresh ginger/galangal

1 fresh green chilli

3 ripe or very ripe tomatoes

1 tsp cumin seeds

oil

1 lemon

1 small bunch fresh coriander

Method

Unless using red lentils or moong dal, soak pulses overnight or at least for the best part of a day. In this case I use channa dal and urad dal because that’s what I have most of on hand.

Drain pulses, place in big pot.

Add turmeric and salt.

I know, I know – salt is Bad.

But I find if I don’t add it to my Indian cooking, it just doesn’t have anything resembling the sort of authentic Indian flavour I seek. Moderation is the key – in this case I use a teaspoon of salt. I suspect an Indian restaurant or household may’ve used 3-4 teaspoons!

Give the salt a miss and you’ll end up with a tasty meal that is of vegetarian nature rather than Indian. And that’s fine, too!

Cover with plenty of water, bring to boil and cook on low heat until pulses collapse into a near-mush.

It’s important at all stages to keep the water content very high – in fact, higher than you may think wise.

When served, dal always coagulates on the plate or in the bowl.

It it’s too thick in the pot, it’ll become an unseemly stodge when served.

So keep it really runny!

Meanwhile, dice the spuds into smallish bite-sized chunks and add to the dal about halfway through its cooking process.

You can keep the dal as a pristine dish if you’re cooking a proper Indian meal with other dishes.

But often we find adding spuds or carrots makes for an easier, quick-cook all-in-one meal.

Don’t worry about the spuds being overcooked – if they collapse a bit, it just adds to the texture. A bit like the spuds in beef rendang and the like.

As the dal mix becomes thoroughly cooked, slice the chilli, grate or chop the ginger/galangal and chop the tomatoes.

Sometimes I finely grate the ginger, but more recently I’ve taken to taking the time to slice it into thin strands.

This delivers more of surprising flavour hit and is inspired by the profoundly gingery dal I had at Maurya in Sunshine.

About this time, it’s a good idea to lower the heat under the dal mix even further if possible or take off the heat entirely.

Especially if you’re using gas, it doesn’t take much of a flame to have the pulses sticking to the bottom of the pot.

Heat oil until medium hot.

Throw in 1 teaspoon of cumin seeds and fry until fragrant.

Lower the heat a little and throw in the sliced chilli and ginger.

Stir and fry for 3-4 minutes.

Throw in the chopped tomatoes.

Stir and cook until the tomato pieces are just starting to break down but still holding their shape.

Throw tomato/ginger/chilli/cumin mix into the pot of dal.

Stir and let cook for five minutes or so until the flavours are emancipated.

When ready to serve and eat, throw in the coriander and, finally, squeeze in juice of a lemon.

We try to get small bunches of coriander and use the whole lot in one bang – stalks and all. It doesn’t keep very well.

Serve with rice, raita and your choice of breads and side dishes.

A Taste Explosion!

Pandu’s – an update …

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UPDATE (July 29, 2012): Review of the new Pandu’s is HERE.

Dropping into the site of the new Pandu’s in Barkly St, I find the man himself in the house.

He’s a little reticent about having his photo taken, but couldn’t be more friendly and is happy to show me around.

And I gotta tell you – the place is looking a million bucks.

He tells me he actually had ritzy expansion plans for the former site in Buckley St well advanced before the rail link developments nixed them.

The new site entails a hefty increase in rent and a major investment – as these photos indicate.

Inevitably, this will involve higher prices for his take on Indo-Chinese tucker.

However, the prices at the old joint were rock-bottom cheap and he assures me his new price tags won’t be in the same ball park as those of a somewhat similar establishment up the road apiece.

Pandu is aiming for a late March opening date.

There’s going to be nooks, crannies and booths all over the place.

Incredibly, all the furniture is being crafted and constructed on-site.

The new restaurant will boast an Indian-style barbecue – not quite Tandoori cooking but with some of those elements. Sounds like a heap of juicy, marinated meats and vegetables to me!

This space (above) will be the site of the new kitchen.

In this area will be a waterfall and fish pond.

Atithi Indian Restaurant

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Atithi Indian Restaurant, 730 Mt Alexander Rd, Moonee Ponds. Phone: 9326 0482

Atithi is an Indian vegetarian restaurant that takes its name from the Sanskrit phrase “Atithi Devo Bhavah”, which means “Guest are God”.

We like that approach!

It resides in a stretch of Mt Alexander Rd near Puckle St in Moonee Ponds that often seems ripe for foodie adventures, but along which we find most places closed when we’re in the vicinity, Dr Strangeloves aside.

Earlier in the week, when passing by, we’d parked and gone for a look-see.

Our response to the restaurant’s motto, part of the outdoor signage, was damn near pavlovian.

“For Who Know Value of Taste.”

So eloquent, so adorable – this place went right to the top of our to-do list, and we’re back for real in just a few days.

On entering, we appreciate the whirring fans and AC on the job.

Both the walls and floor are tiled, while tables are dressed with cloth tablecloths and paper. It’s quite a nice , tranquil vibe.

Initially, we’re a little taken aback by the stern words placed at the bottom of each page of the menu warning us to be prepared for a half-hour 45-minute wait for a our meal.

We cover that base by ordering bhel puri from the Indian Street Food Menu – “Round puri, puffed rice and fine chickpeas noodles mix in onion, tomato, Fresh apple, beetroot, and potato served with chutney” for $7.

We know that in India such like as bhel puri are not ordered as part of a meal, but we often find ourselves ordering them as we are normally not in a position to adhere to afternoon snack tradition.

Bhel puri at Atithi.

This is less crunchy and crackly than I expect, but still a tangy way to get our dinner rolling. Bennie finds the raw white/brown onion quotient overpowering.

Mix veg sizzler at Atithi.

Mix veg sizzler – “mix vegies and pettish cooked in special tomato sauce serve in leafs bowl” ($15) – is a voyage into the unknown for us.

It’s super rich, gloopy and tasty.

Mixed under the cheese and tomato sauce is a jumble of a whole roasted green capsicum, corn kernels, peas, diced potato and carrot and more cheese.

It’s a huge serve – more appropriate for sharing among four people with a mix of other dishes.

This is much more than a tomato sauce, I subsequently discover when chatting to chef Mitesh Patel.

It’s actually a bechamel sauce made of, yes, tomato but also ghee, flour, milk, sugar, salt and pepper.

No wonder it seems so rich!

This sort of dish is not really Indian or Indo-Chinese – it’s more an Indian fusion sort of thing generated by Indian chefs working in Europe and returning home full of ideas and inspirations.

The mix veg sizzler comes from the continental section of menu, which also includes Pineapple/Veg Macaroni ($14) and Paneer Stick Sizzler ($17), which I presume must be even richer again.

From the Indo-Chinese dishes we’ve ordered hakka noodles – “Noodles cooked with special sauces and fresh vegetable” ($12).

Hakka noodles at Atithi.

This is OK, but seems a little on the pricey side. Bennie finds it too spicy, even though we’d said medium when asked.

The version enjoyed at the old Pandu’s benefitted from the having little bowls of vinegar and sauces soy and tomato on the side.

If there is an uneveness in our meal we’re happy to attribute it to a clumsy attempt to get to grips with a strange menu. More advanced navigation skills may have allowed us to choose more complementary dishes.

I’d originally envisioned basing our meal around one of the dosa selections, but the dosas are not yet available.

Perhaps we’d have been better off by gravitating towards the standard curry menu, which includes two kinds of dal, peneer and kofta dishes, and entrees such as pakoras. 

You can check out the Aitithi menu options at the restaurant’s website.

Nevertheless, we welcome the addition of a dedicated vegetarian eatery to our neighbourhood when often it seems Indian restaurants relegate vegetable dishes to after-thought status.

Atithi Indian Restaurant on Urbanspoon

Barkley St: KFC, Sweet Grass tea garden … and Indian restaurants

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Formerly Taj Banjara, soon to be Vanakkam

It’s the end of Bennie’s first day of school for the year, his first in grade 5, so we figure it’s time to celebrate by letting him have his way with the mocktail list at Sweet Grass Bonsai Nursery & Cafe in Footscray.

But as we approach we take in the building activity on both sides of the tea house – time for some questions and answers.

Inside the premises that in recent years housed the Indian restaurant Taj Banjara, we talk to Jagadish.

He gives us the good news – the refit going here will soon house a new-look Vanakkam, formerly of Nicholson St and formerly reviewed here at Consider The Sauce.

Jagadish tells us that the menu in the new restaurant will be basically the same as in the old, including dosas, but that there will expansion along the lines of tandoori breads.

Opening day? Friday, February 10.

On the other side of Sweet Grass – and Vincent Vegetarian Food Mart – will be the new Pandu’s, at 351 Barkly.

Pandu himself is not around when I stick my nose in, but judging by the extensive renovationary activity going on, the new restaurant bearing his name is going to be bigger, more comfortable and swisher than the one that preceded it.

Let’s hope the prices stay the same, though!

The new Pandu's takes shape.

What an all-round boon this is bound to be – not just for locals (Hi, Juz!), but also for those of us who live slightly further afield.

The adjacent side streets are likely to offer some parking capacity, while the clearway restrictions end at 6pm on week nights.

Amusing or ironic? Both these new restaurants will help bring this stretch of Barkly St alive after being given the heave-ho from their previous abodes because of railway developments.

And, yes, Bennie goes for the Black Widow of vanilla ice cream, lime juice and cola.

In a big way: “This drink is so good I can’t not drink it!”

Slurp!

Mishra’s Kitchen

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A more recent review can be found here.

Mishra’s Kitchen, 18 Wembley Ave, Yarraville. Phone: 9314 3336

As we approach the Wembley St shopping trip that has previously left us untroubled in an way, we have contingency plans.

After all, the basis for our dinner – to be shared by Kenny, Bennie and neighbour Rob – is based solely upon my spotting a week earlier what purports to be an Indian restaurant in what is a plain old sandwich shop by day.

Our hopes are not particularly high.

Our downbeat wariness is given a swift kick in the bottom as soon as we enter the door.

Transformation!

This is indeed an Indian restaurant – albeit a humble one that doesn’t try to hide its daytime non-Cinders gig.

More importantly, the welcome from the eager staff is wonderful.

So much so that as we are nutting out the menu and ordering, and it becomes clear that Rob has less experience with tandoori oven rituals than us, I ask if our mate can witness up close and personal the making of our naan order.

The chef – Mr Mishra himself – obliges by not only explaining the whole process to Rob and Bennie but also by giving Rob crack at making his own naan.

Marvellous!

To keep the costs down, we go without starters or snacks and soft drinks, staying with the water. In doing so, we have what I suspect is much more like your average Indian family meal than an outing replete with samosas and the like.

We do good, ordering bhoona chicken (“in medium spices and pot-roasted with ginger and tomatoes”, $11), jhinga Madras (“South Indian spicy prawns curry with mustard seeds and coconut milk”, $14) and mixed vegetables ($9), joined by plain rice ($3), plain naan ($2) and tandoori roti ($2).

Mixed vegetables and bhoona chicken.

Jhinga Madras.

What a wonderful feast we have, with a marvellous combo of varying colours, textures and spice levels.

The difference between our most recent and rather unhappy experience in taking our Indian food habit slightly upmarket and this lovely dinner in a restaurant a mere three weeks old is stark.

The vegetables come in a mild, creamy sauce (cashews, maybe?) and include mushrooms, peas, cauliflower, green beans, fried onion strands and potato.

For Rob and I, this is our pick of the night, with the individual vegetables cooked through but holding their shapes and flavours. Lots of mushies!

About four medium-size prawns for each of us come in a sharper sauce that has the advertised mustard seeds and a tantalising whiff of a spice more exotic than usual that defies my analysis – despite asking the chef the dish’s particulars. That’s how it goes in Indian eateries sometimes!

Bennie loves the chicken, but to me it is merely a good chicken curry.

Taken as whole, and with two fine breads as accessories, our meal is an outright winner.

So is the cost – a mere $41, which is both outstanding and ridiculous.

What a find this place is.

How happy the immediate neighbours – not blessed with an excess of eating out or even takeaweay options – must be.

And how emblematic of the west, in an excellent way, it is that Mishra’s Kitchen joins the likes of Cafe Centro and At 43 in making do and doing great with what is at hand, even if that means making a premises undertake different duties by day and by night.

AND we got a parking spot right outside.

I reckon that’s quite enough, thank you very much, of newspaper stories lauding the livability of Melbourne’s west and other such like preposterous notions.

Hrrrumpf!

Mishra's Kitchen on Urbanspoon

Kasim’s Indian Cafe, Sirens

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Kasim’s Indian Cafe, 44 Mason St, Newport. Phone, 9399 483

Sirens,  Beach Pavilion Esplanade, Williamstown. Phone: 9397 7811

It takes some cajoling to get Bennie off the sofa and away from the TV and PlayStation this Friday night.

In the end, we experience a role reversal – with Bennie energised by the magic combination of beach + boy and his dad wanting to head for home.

To get things rolling, though, I make a concession – instead of heading for the wilds of Deer Park or Taylors Lakes, we stick closer to home, intent on checking out a typical suburban Indian eatery, the windows of which we’ve peered through a number of times but never previously entered.

We’re interested in exploring the theory that by mostly limiting ourselves to the cheaper end of the Indian spectrum – at, say, Consider The Sauce favourites such as Classic Curry in Sunshine – we are depriving ourselves of an occasional repast that is richer, sexier and more celebratory.

So it is with metaphorically loosened wallets that we hit the Willy road.

Our straightahead Indian meal is indeed more expensive than our usual – but not by a lot.

We’re hungry and waste no time in ordering lamb bhuna gosht ($13), aloo gobi ($11.50), plain nan ($2.90) and rice ($4), and “kuchumber salad spicy” ($4).

We suspect Kasim’s, with its plain but nice enough dining room, does most of its trade in takeaway. We’re the only customers, but as we are paying and leaving a young couple saunters in followed by a Muslim family comprising mum, dad, two daughters with iPads and son with PSP/DS.

We hope they have a better time of it than we do.

Our meal is edible.

We eat it.

But – oh dear – it’s truly spectacular in its mediocrity.

The salad – a mix of finely diced tomato, lettuce, cucumber and carrot – is not in the least bit spicy.

The aloo gobi seems like leftovers.

The bhuna gosht meat is tender, has textural variety courtesy of green capsicum and onion, and is the best thing going in our meal.

The nan is very average for the price.

The final bill of just a touch over $40 is fine for two mains, three side dishes and two cans of soft drink, but our wallet-loosening experiment is a failure.

Did we order the wrong dishes? Any Kasim’s regulars out there?

It’s still early in the night and Bennie is happy enough to humour his father’s interest in sweeties and coffee/hot chocolate.

The esplanade/beach precinct of Williamstown used to play a major role in our outings, one that has faded.

Mind you, we’ve never taken the plunge by getting on the fang at Siren’s, daunted by the high prices and the fear its fare will tainted by the same fodder indifference that infects nearby Nelson Parade.

It’s all very well to say that as food bloggers we should keep open minds and chance our arms on occasion, but as full-fare payers we are tugged, too, in the other direction, towards caution and conservatism.

Tonight, the place is close to packed and very busy. But still, we fear that has more to do with the superb beachside location than anything coming out of the kitchen.

What we have done many, many pleasant times is hit Sirens for coffee and Greek-style biscotti – and that’s just what we do tonight.

It turns out to be a thrilling half-hour or so.

The proximity of beach and sand brings Bennie alive.

There’s a classic Willy sunset on hand, thunder clouds and lightning in the other direction, and a rainbow between them.

The floor manager is bemused by our insistence on doing coffee imbibing out on the deck because everything is sopping wet.

That’s cool, mate, we’ll stand.

The choc-dipped bikkie is less impressive than we recall from previous visits; the shortbread number much better; our hot drinks are very good.

As dad calls stumps on the outing, Bennie shouts from water’s edge: “I want to stay here!”

Sirens By the Sea on Urbanspoon

Gol gappe at Classic Curry

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Shop 3, Clarke St, Sunshine. Phone: 9312 6766

Gol gappe is Indian street/snack food along the same lines as bhel puri.

Traditionally, it’s not meant to be part of a main meal, but that’s how I’m starting my lunch today.

The gols – seven for $5 – are egg-like spheres made from fried plain flour.

The top side is cracked open – just as with a boiled egg.

Into each one goes a heady mixture of boiled-but-still-crunchy channa dal, onion, diced potato and two tamarind-based sauces, one sour and one sweet.

Each gol is eaten whole, down the hatch, and I’m warned to get a move on as the clock is ticking. There’s no time to linger before the liquid innards render the bottoms soggy.

My last two gols do indeed collapse, but I love them just as much as their five predecessors.

Each one is a veritable mouthful of flavour explosion, all with a mild chilli hit.

They’re tangy magic of the highest order!

Also called pani puri, I can see these becoming a regular post-school snack for Bennie and I.

But a meal they do not make, so I resort to my trusty choice of chole bhatura ($7), which I was unaware Classic Curry produced a version of despite the frequency with which I’ve eaten here in recent years.

Oh God, this is outstanding – right up there with the recently sampled rendition at Sharma’s and the earlier experience at Bikanos in Werribee!

The breads are light, ungreasy and so fresh they emit steam when torn open.

The chick pea curry is mild with a more sophisticated gravy than is often the case.

The yogurt is creamy and a little salty in a delicious way.

On the side and joining sliced red onion is a dab of fresh chutney made with onions and boasting tremendous flavour from fresh mint.

As others have created blogs dedicated to, say, parmas and burgers, so does Consider The Sauce seem to be heading in a similar direction with chole bhatura.

But given its almost total invisibility on food blogs and in the broader foodie media – dosas, for instance, get much better coverage – it seems a job that requires doing!

Classic Curry (Sunshine) on Urbanspoon

Sharma’s Indian Sweet & Curry House

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Sharma’s Indian Sweet & Curry House, 4/350 Taylors Rd, Taylors Lakes. Phone: 9356 4400

Sharma’s has been open for about a year and is situated in a small shopping centre a few blocks from Watergardens Town Centre.

Outside and in it superficially looks like a simple suburban Indian takeaway joint.

It doesn’t take too much of a closer look, though, to discover this is emphatically not the case.

Sharma’s is some serious Indian foodery, let me tell you.

They have so many bases covered, at prices significantly below those of more formal Indian places, that I am excited about the prospects of returning with my co-blogger and various friends in coming months.

I am saddened that Sharma’s is not just around the corner.

I am frustrated that today’s weekend solo outing so restricts my ability to graze the menu.

On the extensive menu they list dosas, Punjabi breakfast fare and chat snacks such as bhel puri.

And instead of a single goat dish as featured at so many Indian places, Sharma’s lists five.

There’s an Indo-Chinese section, meat curries are about the $13 mark, vegetable curries about $10 and the bread listing is long.

At the counter there are fine-looking displays of lusciously rich sweets ($18-24 a kilogram) and salty, crunchy spicy snacks know as namkeen ($16 a kilogram). I buy two $2 bags of the latter to take home – one heavy with puffed rice and peanuts, the other with crunchy noodles.

They even list six soups – and it’s with one of those that I start my lunch. I regret, though, ordering the lentil number ($4) when seeing and tasting how they do mushroom soup may’ve been far more interesting.

Consisting of dals mung, masur and channa, and turmeric, salt and mustard seeds, this is about as straitlaced as Indian food gets. It’s fine in its own plain way, but may be better appreciated as part of a thali or Indian vego feast.

Next up, I simply can’t resist Sharma’s version of the irresistible thali spread of puris, chick pea curry, yogurt and condiments that is here called chana bhatura – despite the nagging feeling that I should be pursuing more variety on behalf of Consider The Sauce and its readers.

Hey, it’s my lunch, OK, and I’ll try to do better next time …

Seriously, though, I don’t think the bar can go much higher on this dish than what I am served here – it’s magnificent in every way:

Puris hot, fresh and no more oily than is acceptable.

Yogurt creamy, lightly perfumed with cumin and a little on the sweet side.

Chick peas very good with a mild chilli kick.

Commercial piquant hot pickle, a little dab of spicy mint chutney and crunchy red onion bits.

And the price – $7.50!

It’s perfect!

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Maurya Indian Restaurant & Cafe

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58 Station Place, Sunshine. Phone: 9364 9001

“Special discount/offer for students & taxi drivers.”

It’s difficult to imagine words more profound, eloquent or enticing for the bargain-inclined food hound.

They can be found inscribed on the business card of Maurya Indian Restaurant & Cafe, a humble but – on the basis of two visits – terrific eatery in Sunshine.

With windows that gaze out on the busy comings and goings of buses and, beyond them and their passengers, the Sunshine train station, Maurya equals Wang Wang Dumpling in terms of vehicular scenery.

Such matters not, of course.

I’d been at least subliminally aware of Maurya for years without ever setting foot inside, deterred perhaps by a perception that it is too much of a low-key hangout for, well, taxi drivers to function as public-serving eatery.

Wrong! Although the service is low-key, perseverance is certainly rewarded.

As well, I gained the impression that not all items listed on the menu – there’s only one, stuck to the wall next to the servery and cash register – are always available. So consultations with the staff are a requirement.

The interior is typical Indian el cheapo cafe, with a nice comfy feel that made me right at home. In fact, it reminded me of Indian eats places in India, even if my sole visit to that country was a mighty long time ago.

Prices here are notably on the low side.

A whole tandoori chook clocks in at $12, two kinds of dal are $6.50, their chick pea cousin $7 and meat curries $9.

For my Saturday lunch, I settle on dal tadka, plain rice ($2.50) and a plain roti ($1).

I start though, wanting to get things moving into my mouth as soon as possible, with a samosa ($1).

I have only the most modest of expectations, so am delighted with my house-made pastry parcel. In addition to the expected spuds, peas and spices (including whole cumin and coriander seeds), there are a scattering of sultanas included. I love it.

My dal appears to be based mostly on red and aduki beans, and thus, to me, appears more like makhani than the tadka variety.

But in truth, it’s like neither I’ve ever had in any restaurant, anywhere.

For this is real home-made Indian food – as opposed to Indian restaurant food, with its more refined approach and fewer rough edges.

Unlike other restaurant versions I know, the onion is obvious, the chopped/shredded ginger both a taste and a texture. I detect coriander and cinnamon. The dish has a beaut slow-burn chilli hit that nevertheless never rises much above a click or two over mild.

I love this, too!

For such homely fare, my plain wholemeal roti is the perfect complement.

Including a can of soft drink, my lunch costs me $13.50, which I consider a grand bargain.

A day earlier, on my initial visit, I’d played safe and gone for one of my perennial requests in such places – “cholley bhaturey”.

The Maurya version cost me a superbly low $6 and was very good indeed.

The puris were hot and fluffy, although by the time I got to the second it had gone cold and stiff. The chick peas were fab, as were the attendant condiments.

Blimey – $6!

For the locals, they even provide a tiffin service!