Have you ever said goodbye to someone, only to realize you're going in the same direction? Have…read moreyou ever waved at someone and then immediately realized that you didn't know them? I didn't encounter such awkwardness while eating at Karahi King, but later when I sat down to write this review.
It felt like coming full circle. Five years ago, I started penning reviews, and Karahi King was one of my first entries. Many others around that time have since closed. Back then, my articles were brief though honestly uninspired (which some people would claim they prefer). In the intervening years, never once had I returned to Karahi King. That's my cross to bear, or rather my overfull stomach. Quite a bit has changed--the restaurant has moved from its previous location, shifting two blocks to a spot formerly occupied by not one but two Indian restaurants. Karahi King's reputation has also taken a dramatic upswing, which is where the aforementioned awkwardness emerges.
As it's probably known to many, and perhaps a few more by the end of this paragraph, Karahi King was the recent 2015 winner of the Northern Taste Challenge, where several local restaurants competed in an Iron-Chef-style contest. It had the requisite secret ingredients, oversized red clock, and a charismatic host (Bob Blumer called me a writer, and in the "business", you are not a writer unless another writer says so). There were some challenging encounters, like fighting owlbears in The Ghost Tower of Inverness kind of difficult, but in the end, the "king" was...well...King...or, actually queen, if one were to be specific. The win was not just deserved; it was earned. Some of the dishes were epic, like a yogurt kebab--yup, fried yogurt is apparently now a thing. The moment I sampled that, I knew there was genius at work.
Umm...yeah, I guess I should admit now that I was a judge. The benefits of being a food critic. So by saying the victory was earned, I speak from firsthand experience. It also means my time being a clandestine critic is regrettably fleeting. Subsequently, I was identified. Like unmistakably. Like addressing me by my first name. Was my experience not entirely reflective of the median? Perhaps. Let's be honest; I was indulged. My portions were huge, and by the end of it, the meal was comped.
That was full disclosure, admittance that my meal was gratis. I don't believe the owners were enticing a positive review, more an indebtedness they were not required to make. If my review was the solitary positive spark, one could levy accusations of enticement, but this is most certainly not the case. The put it bluntly, Karahi King is not only the best Indian restaurant in town but also one of the best restaurants in city entire.
The décor, very often postscript with these establishments, is exquisitely ethnic. It reaching centimeters from an echelon reserved for classic bistros. You have to squint to spot the shreds of compromise. There's a TV on one wall. The chairs look pulled from of a self-help convention seminar. I'm really nitpicking, and that's all I got. Tables are topped by red tablecloths sandwiched under flawless squares of glass. Napkins are folded fabric in empty glasses, not paper pulled from a cheap tin dispenser. Even the plates themselves are whimsical. Spotlights accentuate the shadows. This could be the first Indian restaurant I've ever been in where I don't have to excuse faults. Karahi King replicates all the positives of other establishments without mistakes. Hell, I'll even give them marks for frosting the windows in such a way that it blocks one's view of the miscreants wandering this part of town.
For my meal, I had to start with those yoghurt kebabs, now a permanent fixture on the menu. Called Dahi-Ke-Kebab, and although the most expensive appetizer, the actual serving was closer to a full meal. Her competition entry was simpler, with the new offering stuffed with spices and nuts, flanked by two cooling dips. This was followed by the Chicken Malai Tikka (grilled chicken breast marinated in cream, cashews & Indian spices), a literal sizzling plate of heaven. I enjoy the fact that Karahi King doesn't feel the need to embellish chili powder like so many places. The owners let the many aromas of their homeland channel through. I love some heat as much as the next person, but there's a limit, especially when you can tap fenugreek, cloves and coriander.
The one aspect of Indian food I appreciate is that I've never met an Indian chef that phoned it in. Sure there are those that rely on more westernized expectations, but I don't' recall every having a bad experience in an Indian restaurant, and maybe that's the perch atop I place Karahi King. Being the best Chinese restaurant in town is not much of a feather in one's cap, but the best Indian restaurant is quite bull's-eye to hit. And Karahi King has most definitely found its mark.
