Dhaba does it right

I'm not prone to Flintstonian exclamations. But recent trips to Dhaba Indian Cuisine had me busting out a “Yabba Dhaba do!”

With affordable and varied buffet-only lunches; a kitchen capable of speedy takeout; a full-service dinner menu of Indian and less-common Indo-Chinese specialties; and a sizable and tidy dining room, Dhaba aims to please.

With few exceptions, the two-month-old independent eatery succeeded on recent lunch, dinner and takeout visits.

I've read that dhabas are the diners of India: roadside eateries that provide tasty and affordable local fare. But the Dhaba near 120th and Blondo Streets certainly does not resemble a truck stop. Aside from a few bare wooden booths with thatched roofs, the space skews contemporary: high industrial ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows, stone-look laminated tables, soft green walls and a tiny bar with a mounted flat-screen TV.

The food is a similar hybrid of family-style and fancy: fried, sautéed, stewed and tandoor-baked dishes with freshly ground spices and prettily carved garnishes, generally served in sharable portions in shiny copper-bottomed vessels.

And the mood of the place seems to vacillate, appropriately, with the time of day.

Lunch is casual and as quick as you need it to be with paper-napkin-wrapped silverware waiting at your table and plates standing by at the fragrant $9.99 buffet: a row of linen-covered tables with up to a dozen hammered-copper chafing dishes.

Lunch service tends to be fleeting and efficient. The drink order may be your only exchange with your server, who deposits both drink and check at your table while you're dishing up. You pay, whenever you're ready, at the counter.

The buffet changes daily but typically includes fresh naan (the puffed and blistered bread, baked on the inside walls of a cylindrical tandoor oven), basmati rice, a mix of vegetarian and meat dishes, some off-menu specials, an appetizer, a dessert, some fresh vegetables for salad and a few sauces.

Among the highlights: Cravable chicken tikka masala (chunks of tandoor-cooked chicken in a thick orange-red sauce that I love like an Italian loves marinara). Comforting palak paneer (spongy cubes of housemade cheese in a creamy spinach gravy). Crisp onion pakora (think tempura or fried “blooming” onion, but with Indian spices and a lentil batter). Lots of hearty lentil and bean dishes. A spicy on-the-bone goat curry. And one new-to-me vegetable: tindori (about the size, shape and color of a serrano pepper, with a taste and texture akin to baby zucchini). It was fabulous in a sauté with dried red chili peppers and a toasted breadcrumb-like crumble of the house spice blend.

At night, the place feels a little more upscale and relaxed: tables set with white basketweave plates and wine-colored cloth napkins, dimmed lights dancing on hammered-copper water cups and serving dishes, and complimentary papadam (thin house-made rice-flour crisps studded with cumin seeds) to start the meal.

Dinner comes with more attentive service, more variable spice levels and a large menu.

When in doubt, try the thali. Offered in vegetarian and non-vegetarian versions, thali is a multi-coursed meal served in individual dishes on a large round tray.

The non-veg version I tried involved naan and eight smaller bowls of everything from soup to dessert. Each dish was delicious and distinct: steamed basmati rice, a spicy spinach stew, a dark red vegetable stew with lemongrass and eggplant, three chicken dishes including a palak (chunks of white meat in a mild, nutty cream sauce with spinach), a spicy lentil-and-tomato stew, and the dessert ras malai (a disc of housemade cottage-style cheese in a sweet cinnamon cream sauce). With a little extra rice and naan, it was plenty for two.

Another sampler, the mixed grill, gives you a tour of the tandoor-cooked meats. Ours arrived atop sizzling onions on a hot foil-wrapped platter. The meats, all cooked on skewers, ranged in flavor and heat: the mild red-rubbed chicken chunks, slightly hotter cilantro-flecked cubes of chicken marinated with yogurt and chiles, middling-spicy lamb sausage kebabs that lacked salt, and two super-spicy tail-on shrimp. In the middle of the plate lay fresh chiles carved into slender flowers and a whole lemon cut and curled to resemble leaves.

The Dhaba special dosa was a pleasant surprise — so much more than the sum of its vegetarian parts, and so big!

The 2-foot round crepe is made with rice flour and urad dal (a lentil-like bean, skinned, soaked overnight and ground into a paste). The thin, sprawling pancake is browned and rolled around a modest filling of soft turmeric-colored potatoes with mustard seed, diced red onion and tomato. Mine had a toasty, nutty flavor. Torn off in strips and dipped in the accompanying lentil-and-tomato sauce and a chutney of chipped coconut, it was the sort of dish that makes you want to rustle up some silk pillows and dine on the floor.

“Chicken 65,” a fusion dish I'd only heard about, was like East-meets-West chicken nuggets: round-edged chunks of meat, marinated in ginger and garlic, dusted with red-tinged Chinese and Indian spices and starch and then deep fried. As an appetizer, it was gone in seconds.

I ran out of time and stomach to try some of the other Indo-Chinese specials: spiced noodle dishes, a cumin-rice stir-fry and unusual fusions like gobi Manchurian (deep fried cauliflower cooked with Indian spices and tossed in a Chinese sauce).

I opted instead for a dish named for owner Aravind Gottiparthy's hometown in India: the Hyderabadi special chicken biryani. Ordered “medium spicy,” it was hot, hot, hot.

The saffron-colored basmati rice had been cooked with toasted cashews, bite-sized pieces of spice-and-yogurt-marinated chicken, fresh mint and cilantro, whole cloves, and gobs of ground yellow and brown spices I couldn't single out. The astringent-to-me heat, I'm guessing, was mainly from ginger, galangal and ground mustard seed. Whooh!

No wonder Indian desserts often are so sweet and dairy-laden; that's what you need to put out the fire.

Sweets I tried did the trick: gulab jamun (donut-hole-sized balls of powdered milk and cream cheese, in a simple syrup with almonds), gajar halwa (a super-sweet, brilliantly orange, grated carrot pudding that smacked of honey and nuts) and Kashmiri naan (bread stuffed with golden raisins and pistachios).

Complaints were few, and may have since been resolved:

The food at the buffet was lukewarm one day, visibly steaming on another. Buffet plates also ran hot and cold. Gottiparthy said he's addressed heat issues by preheating the pans that nestle in the copper pots and switching to a longer-burning fuel for the buffet burners. He said attendants now bring buffet plates in small, hot batches from the kitchen.

At dinner, entrées didn't arrive together. Gottiparthy said he's tried to address the problem with extra food runners and server training.

Tables were too close for comfort — and difficult to maneuver through. Gottiparthy said he's removed several tables and spread out the others.

The Indian music struck me, at times, as distracting and more suited to a nightclub. Gottiparthy said he has no regrets: Upbeat music is true to form for an Indian dhaba.

Those quibbles aside, we got a whole lot of flavor and fuel for the price: about $15 per person for a solid lunch (buffet with hot chai, tax and tip) and about $20 per person, all told, for more leisurely a la carte dinners with plenty of leftovers.

I'll be sure to beat feet (a la Fred Flintstone) back to Dhaba soon.

Contact the writer:

444-1069, nichole.aksamit@owh.com

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