I assumed the fabric ceiling was a relic of the previous occupant, Giggles Cafe, because it's a bit of a giggle. The accoutrements of a pipe-smoking, bespectacled man in bow tie and bowler hat, riding a pennyfarthing bicycle, form a repeating pattern. It doesn't quite sing of the subcontinent but co-owner Maxim Tirodkar says the ceiling is "a bit of Goan ambience which is basically about having fun".
Fair enough, I suppose, though the decor, which features a lot of jute, seemed rather drab to me. But there was nothing drab about the food. Head chef Rasika Dabhade, whose CV includes a stint at the Dorchester, has composed a thoughtful menu that should grab the attention of the casual diner and the dedicated foodie alike.
It's a rare pleasure to encounter a menu in which not a single dish is familiar, though it would have been good if our waiter could have summoned up more than the word "spice" when essaying an explanation of terms like ambotick, gulawati and balchao. Still, on the strength of our trio's choices, predicated entirely on our preferences for the main ingredient, there was no going wrong here.
An amuse-bouche of cool chai masala foam (based on the sweet milky tea that is Indians' drink of choice) with a little corn fritter had our tastebuds bouncing by the time our entrees arrived. These included lamb "kebabs" which were not skewered, but flat rissoles spiced with a mixture that made for a rich, deep taste rather than a fiery one. It was served with a creamy butternut puree. Fried lotus root and pickled onion reddened with mangosteen made for a nice contrast of textures.
Our mate's fish sliders impressed me less: the fish was beautifully juicy but there wasn't much else going on. The Professor was mightily pleased with halloumi, baked in the tandoor and served in a sandwich of courgette and capsicum.
Mains got even better: a confit duck leg came on feijoada, the rich kidney bean stew I lived on as an indigent backpacker in Brazil, with crumbed prawn gnocchi, bitter melon and sour cherry to cut through the fattiness. Pork belly (in perhaps too large a lump) sat by foogath-style cabbage (grated coconut), and mash studded with chorizo.
Some lovely puddings, including bebinca, an egg-rich coconut layer cake, and mango panna cotta rounded things off nicely. As Indian-influenced food goes, this is something special. It's not in the same league as Sid Sahrawat's Cassia, but is an original suburban surprise. Just don't ask for chicken tikka masala.
Entrees $12-$15; mains $26-$35; sides $5-$9; desserts $14
Verdict: Inventive and exotic suburban surprise
Cheers: To be Franc
By Joelle Thomson
Ah, the joys of moving. The packing, the redirection of snail mail (still do-able, thanks NZ Post), the hours on hold to telcos and insurance companies, listening to The Black Seeds on repeat, to change landline and policy details. It's enough to send anyone to ... a bottle of 2013 Moana Park Vintage Project Cabernet Franc, a grape that is usually an insurance policy. It plays third fiddle to merlot and cabernet sauvignon in Bordeaux, in France's maritime southwest as it ripens earlier than cabernet sauvignon, so it's handy for grape growers trying to escape rain or plummeting temperatures at harvest.
There is a minuscule 118ha of franc in Godzone, giving it the humble title of 11th most planted grape. Insurance policies are always dull, until needed. But this wine bucks that trend. The 2013 Hawkes Bay summer was so dry, so long and so warm that Dan Barker of Moana Park winery pushed cabernet franc's purple boundaries and made this one-off black beauty - $60 from moanapark.co.nz
