What is the future of Indian food in India? This is a question that is often debated by chefs, restaurateurs and foodies. And clearly, looking at the spate of big launches in the last two years, one would have to acknowledge that while a wealth of regional and community cuisines lies unexplored, it is what is now known as ?contemporary Indian dining? that is taking centrestage.
Restaurants marrying Indian flavours and recipes with European or French presentation, meat and sometimes even cooking techniques are the posh, new favourites in India? not just with tourists and Westerners but also with local crowd. After all, to justify an Indian meal in a fancy restaurant in these days of global excess, a diner must be able to identify it as an ?experience?. Generic red curries served in big bowls for the family to share are just not enough unless, of course, it is comfort food that one is seeking. But that must then be lowly priced.
The new crop of modern Indian restaurants, on the other hand, dabble in gastronomy serving up makhni and moilee ice creams, tandoori foie gras and blue cheese naans, so that you are paying not so much for the food per se, but for pieces of art! Unlike a lot of people, I have no grouse with this approach (imported from London). Experimentation of any kind is only fair, and chefs, to be called chefs, must be able to let their imagination run loose. However, what I do have a bone to pick with is when restaurants kill the entire spirit of Indian cuisine(s).
Last week, I made my way to the new, super luxurious Oberoi in Gurgaon with great expectations to check out their new coastal cuisine restaurant, Amaranta. Now, coastal cuisine has been deemed the next hot thing, and quite literally so, on the Indian restaurant scape. The Oberoi, with its reputation for quality and attention to detail, should have been just the hotel to create something splendid.
But while the restaurant looks like a million bucks (it is pricey; main courses in the range of R 1,500-1,800 per portion) and there is a superb wine list to choose from, the food itself falters. And pretty badly. Amaranta has taken the contemporary Indian route with dishes from nine states on the coasts. They have adapted to give you options like gongura lamb rack (gongura leaves are used as a souring agent in Andhra), Chettinad grilled chicken (as well as a paneer tikka version), a seafood bhel and so on. There is also the option of ordering the fresh catch of the day in different types of masalas?Kerala, Andhra, Mangalorean or Konkan. And accompaniments include the likes of the Moplah biryani, Mangalorean sannas, et al. On paper, it looks like a comprehensive, innovative menu.
But how it translates on the platter is quite another thing. Over the last couple of days, I have been wondering why and how the chefs (or their advisers) got it so wrong. And I have to conclude that it has to do with the fear of spices that most five-star chains in India following Western models and preferences have. At Amaranta, the food is woefully under-spiced and none of the wonderful aromas and flavours that we associate with Indian cuisine?leave aside the rich and varied cuisines of the coasts?come through.
Unlike other cuisines and the modern (largely European) notion of food, where the ingredients rightly take centrestage and flavouring is kept to a minimal to let original textures and tastes come through, Indian cooking follows a different, more complex philosophy. The freshness of ingredients is, of course, sacrosanct, but what most of our regional and community cooking also calls for is a judicious use of spices in various proportions so that the resulting flavours are almost like an entire musical composition instead of just one note.
In the hands of dhaba cooks and ill-trained chefs, everything is doused in the ubiquitous garam masala, killing off every other flavour. But in the hands of a competent chef, individual spices can be used judiciously to great results. It?s an erroneous notion that most Indian cuisines are ?hot??meaning chilly. They are not. Though the likes of pepper (black, white, yellow), a host of fragrant spices like cardamom (green vs the nuttier black), asafoetida (a complex spice that is a substitute of onions and rightly) and so on can produce distinctive dishes even from the same original ingredient.
Of equally vital importance are the souring agents. Tomatoes (a late entrant into Indian kitchens became popular only in the 19th century, having been cultivated by the British as an exotic, elite veggie/fruit) have ruined Indian ?gravies? of the kind you get in commercial restaurants. But Indian cuisine draws its richness and diversity from different souring agents?yoghurt, tamarind, mango, gongura, kokum, lemon and vinegar, depending on where you are, to what community you belong, and the season.
All these different notes will be reflected in any dish with a soul. Unfortunately, in many hotel-restaurants, that is simply not the case and the resultant food, therefore, tastes like cardboard, however fancy its presentation. Two dishes, which I ate at Amaranta illustrate this: The seafood bhel promised to be an exciting creation, but wasn?t because it lacked the essential tanginess of the street snack. While it is true that seafood is delicate and there is no point in flavouring it too much, flavouring it too little makes bhel lose its entire essence.
The twice roasted crispy duck with Mangalorean gassi masala was also inadequate. Neither was the duck crispy enough (in Indian cuisine, we tend to cook meat well, unlike in Western cuisine, but that is again the essence of our food) nor was the masala redolent with the goodness of coconut, chillies and fennel that makes for Mangalorean magic.
It is not as if Indian food needs to lose its soul to be contemporarised. You only have to go to an Indian Accent (I would rate it as the best of the lot on the contemporary Indian dining scene in Delhi and Mumbai) to realise that food can taste wonderful?and Indian?besides looking good. In fact, chef Manish Mehrotra has even made a kashiphal (pumpkin!) soup, which is classy and pricey for Indian diners.
It just requires a larger understanding of our cuisines and the will not to kill them for supposed international audiences to dish out an experience that is both Indian and modern.
The writer is a food critic