[Non-photo Review]
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Malabar The Indian Meal that Tasted of Nothing
We needed a curry in a hurry
It was January, we were back from France. There we were, for some unbeknownst and unforgivable reason, watching the worst series so far of Gordon Ramsay's F Word. The only good thing about the particular episode was the food emanating from the mind and hands of Aktar Islam, the Head Chef of Lasan, one of the 'local' Indian restaurants that had been nominated by viewers as 'the best local Indian restaurant' in the country. I had to admit, the guy's food had some flare and, if it tasted even close to as good as it looked, it must have been pretty amazing. He certainly seemed intent on pushing Indian cuisine beyond the normal confines of the UK restaurant scene. To make a long story short, this guy was getting us in the mood for a good curry, so we decided we would have an Indian meal the next night, which happened to be a Friday.
So we went through the list of good Indian places that we could go. But we didn't want anything fancy (so places like Zaika, Tamarind, Benares, etc. were out), and we didn't want to go too far from home. After quite an in-depth Google rampage, I thought I had done the unthinkable and uncovered one of London's hidden gems. It had no blogger reviews on Urbanspoon, but lots of great comments in an array of less noted diner forums alluding to the fact that this was a 'hidden neighborhood jewel' of a restaurant in Notting Hill which mostly only locals frequented and that they had some rather unusual dishes when compared to traditional curry houses. After perusing their menu online through their rather annoying site (why have two sites instead of one?), I felt quite confident when making our reservation that we just may be onto a winner. If only life could be so simple
How to make food that tastes of nothing
We had actually walked by this restaurant a few times on strolls through Notting Hill over the past few years, so knew where it was and that it looked the part looking from the outside in. It certainly continued to look the part as we entered that Friday night and were led from the ground floor dining room to the downstairs one, where we were given a table along the back wall, which had bench seating on the wall side of the table and chairs on the other. The place was decorated simply but tastefully in a modern slightly-nicer-than-IKEA way. It also had a good buzz, with large tables of friends downing Cobras (okay, so maybe this wasn't going to be as refined as I thought it might be, but it could still be good), and generally appearing to have a good time.
We had a look through the menu, and it read very well. There were lots of dishes that sounded appetizing and tempting, and a number of dishes I had not seen on other Indian menus elsewhere in London. Despite Mrs. LF's dietary situation (as you will know from recent posts, she didn't have appetite for anything very ambitious given her stage of pregnancy), I insisted that I would order at least one of the more interesting dishes which I had read were good from other diner reviews.
The waiter brought us a carafe of water, which was presented in a nice aqua colored glass vessel and I perused the small but adequately thought-out wine list and chose a glass of the house wine (Hazy View, Chenin Blanc, Western Cape, South Africa at £4 per 125ml glass), which I figured would mesh well with the flavors of the Indian food. Decorative silver plates were laid down on the table and the waiters seemed to be kind, efficient and professional.
Our first starter sounded like it might be a bit different as I had never personally had corn with chillies. Unfortunately, it didn't excite our palates at all. In a nutshell, this dish could be described as someone taking a tin of sweet corn, emptying it onto a little silver platter, chopping up a few slices of green peppers, and throwing in a few green chillies. Yeah, it tasted like plain old sweet corn that a college student had tried to dress up by chucking some green stuff in. Nothing totally clashed, but nothing was working together either, and it just tasted boring if slightly weird. Strike one. 3/10.
As John Torode or Gregg Wallace might say, So, from sweet corn to devilled liver. Yeah, I had gone with something a bit more ambitious. My starter of devilled chicken liver arrived on a huge black hot plate, lying on a bed of onions. The portion size was ginormousI mean this literally could have been a main course. Possibly this is because the starters were meant to be shared family-style, but the waiters never warned us of this.
In any case, I was eager to try what was meant to be one of the kitchen's specialties, but my excitement was sorely misplaced. As I bit into the relatively soft meat, I searched for the words to describe the taste. It did taste faintly of chicken liver, just. I could tell there were some spices thrown in, read more