The Hanoitimes – The India Palace restaurant in Hanoi promises a splendid dining experience but some of its dishes, while adequate, fail to reach the majestic heights the name implies. Elisabeth Rosen reports.Refined stalwarts Khazaana and Namaste may have cornered the local market for white-tablecloth Indian cuisine, but in terms of quantity alone, their owner has a long way to go to beat Ravi Kumar’s prolific output.
The former spice trader sits at the helm of what is by Hanoi terms a restaurant empire: Tandoor (which also has an HCM City twin), Dakshin, and India Palace, which recently moved from Xuan Dieu Street to this centralized location.
Referencing both Tandoor’s North Indian offerings and the lighter South Indian vegetarian cuisine that made Dakshin stand out, the menu is as large and ambitious as its royal name suggests.
The building last housed Asia House, a short-lived attempt at fusing Vietnamese and Indian cuisine, and it still feels more like an East Asian living room than an Indian royal court. There has been no effort to replace the enormous calligraphy scrolls on the walls, or to do away with the porcelain figures that flank the entryway. In its previous incarnation on Xuan Dieu, the restaurant was set in a suitably palatial four-story villa, complete with Persian carpets and archways bathed in warm light. The Hoan Kiem District location is certainly more convenient, but there’s something disconcerting about the disparity between the decor and the cuisine.
Fortunately, the food is more Indian than the furniture. While there’s nothing groundbreaking about the preparations, the kitchen hits all the right notes, turning out expertly charred meats and curries infused with familiar spices. You’d be hard-pressed to find serious fault with a single dish.
But don’t come here looking for overpowering cumin or eye-watering chilis. This is Indian food for beginners. When I asked my server for a recommendation, he pointed out chicken tikka masala – a mild curry that didn’t even come about in India, but in Britain – even though chicken vindaloo, a spicy gravy that is much more authentically Indian, sat two spaces below it on the menu. This attitude colours much of the dining experience. Many of the dishes feel intended for diners rendered timid by the prospect of curry. All the spices are there, but none of them are overpowering, in the thrilling way that the best Indian food can be.
Skip the meager array of starters and go straight to the kebabs. These are not the skewered meats characteristic of Middle Eastern cuisine, but large pieces of grilled or tandoori-roasted meat served on an iron skillet. Chicken reshmi kebab (VND99,000), marinated in a tangy yogurt sauce and grilled until just barely charred around the edges, may be the best. “Reshmi” means “silken”, and the meat is as tender as the name implies.
The South Indian vegetarian dishes also stand out – although they are far too hard to find. Dividing the menu into Northern and Southern fare would be an easy way to solve this problem, and would also explain regional culinary differences to those unfamiliar with Indian food. Instead, one is forced to scrutinize the descriptions to find out a particular dish’s provenance. Unlike North Indian curries, which are heavily cream-based, South Indian food is light and spicy. In the North, chana masala (VND75,000) comes in a crimson gravy; here, chickpeas arrive in a robust mass of chopped tomato infused with ginger and garam masala. Okra fried Bhindi-style (VND75,000) is tempered with fiery dried pepper.
In contrast, Northern curries are more cream than substance. Chicken tikka masala (VND105,000) consists of four or five pieces of meat simmered in a sweet tomato sauce, and mutton roganjosh (125,000 VND) is served in similar fashion, although the dish gets its namesake red tint not from tomatoes but from Kashmiri red chillies. Milder than the peppers used in southern regions, they don’t quite muster enough boldness to cut through the rich cream sauce.
Since Kumar got his start as a spice importer, one might expect him to give the kitchen more assertive flavours to work with. Broad wedges of paneer soak in a golden cream infused with cardamom and cashews in paneer pasinda (85,000 VND), but it’s hard to find much excitement beneath the blanket of cream. Better are lighter dishes like aloo gobi mattar (75,000 VND), which tosses together cubes of potato with tender cauliflower, fresh coriander and a sprinkle of green peas.
To sop up the sauces, you’ll need bread or rice – or both. Soft triangles of naan are acceptable in a pinch, though they lack the proper tandoori-blistered surface, covered with melted butter. Ask for plain rice, and you will be served glutinous short-grain white rice, rather than fragrant long-grain basmati.
This is no royal banquet. India Palace promises a feast; the kitchen instead delivers a solid meal that stops short of anything truly extravagant.
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