Expanding the Menu
Other Dishes and New Locations
With many restaurants nearby, I began to look around. At first, even within the limits of the repertoire, I found plenty of new and interesting dishes to try. After having sampled vindaloo just about everywhere, I began expanding my horizons with exotic dishes as Chicken Tikka Masala, Lamb Korma, Dal Makhani and Chole. All of these were new to me, and quite distinct from the few dishes I knew from growing up. After sampling these dishes at several restaurants, I said to myself: “OK I know Indian food.” Hah! Little did I actually know…
While nearly all of the restaurants I ate at during the eighties and early nineties have closed, several new ventures have replaced them — many better than the previous generation. Some modeled themselves in the Oh Calcutta vein serving updated versions of the repertoire along with a few new dishes. A few of these newcomers, such as Rangoli introduced a small section of southern Indian dishes such as dosas, idlis, vadas that were previously unheard of. Others, such as Diva in Somerville, attempted a more modern approach while a small adventurous group branched out to explore regional cuisines. These changes meant there was more variety and many new dishes for me to discover along with updated versions of the classics.
A Food Court on the Auto Mile
Around the same time, as a sign that Indian food was gaining favor among the masses, a few takeout counters began to appear in food courts. One is usually suspect — with good reason — of food courts in the US. In general, a fine dining experience is not to be expected; rather, generic versions of dishes such as pizza, tacos or burgers are the standard fare. Fast food, where quality is not the point. Food courts are meant for a quick, convenient lunch while shopping or visiting tourist attractions.
Generalizations, however do not apply in every instance, and a shining exception moved into the former headquarters of DeMambro Electronics at the intersection of Commonwealth and Brighton avenues in Allston. Opening up in the early 2000s, the Super 88 Food Court became a perfect place to grab lunch before stopping into the neighboring Super 88 market; the largest Asian market in the Allston area. Its proximity to Super 88 as well as its dozen or so vendors dispensing Asian street food set it apart from other area food courts.
Tucked into a stall in the front row of the food court I came across the small family-run JMP who produced curries that I wound up dreaming about. When I first started to visit them, they offered a lunch special that included rice, curry, naan, half a papadum and a bit of salad. Place your order, and wait while a member of the family prepares your lunch, and bakes the Naan in their tandoor.
By the time JMP opened, I had become weary of the ubiquitous tikka masala appearing on just about every restaurant menu, and had been avoiding the dish for the most part. However, JMP was one of the few places where I would still order it, especially their Lamb Tikka Masala. In their hands, the typical overly creamy, mild sauce (resembling tomato soup) was replaced by a bold, flavorful tomato-based gravy with just a touch of cream. It had a bit of a kick; it had a unique flavor; it had a backbone to it. I was hooked!
Ah, but what made them so different? As I pondered that question, I began to notice a little something extra bubbling deep beneath the surface of their gravies. I wasn’t able to identify what ingredient the flavor was coming from and the mystery awakened my curiosity. “What is it that makes their gravy different from all the other tikka masalas in Boston? And, what is that flavor?” I was asking questions again, but it would take me quite awhile to come up with the answer I was looking for. But one day, I came upon a clue: a hard brown chunk from the gravy found it’s way to my mouth. Was it cinnamon? Nope… I sucked on it for awhile longer savoring the almost licorice flavor until I finally recognized it from the long-ago Szechwan and Chinese cooking nights. “Five-spice powder,” I said to myself. Wait! Can’t be that…of course: star anise!
You Don’t Know What You’re Missing!
While rediscovering star anise sort of expanded my palate, it is a spice I was already familiar with, although one that I equated with Chinese food. Not quite a new dish, but maybe a new twist. When it comes to a dish that opened my eyes, exploded in my mouth, and changed my life, the award goes to Baingan Bharta! Yes, eggplant. OK…I may be exaggerating a wee bit.
I must confess, while I can generally be adventurous when trying new food, I do have my limits. There are certain things that I just never really liked (raw tomatoes for one) and neither age nor wisdom have done anything to change my opinion of many of them. Some, such as eggplant, I never really gave a fair chance to, although I’m not sure why. Maybe never eating it when I was growing up might have led to a preconceived dislike? I am not sure, but for some reason, I would actively avoid it. It would sneak in there occasionally though — you know, breaded and fried in a dish like Eggplant Parmesan, and I would just tolerate it. I only have one memory of eating eggplant on it’s own: sautéed in olive oil and…well that’s it, other than perhaps a pinch of salt. I do not remember being that thrilled with that treatment.
Even though I had been eating (and making hummus) fairly often for years, I would steadfastly avoid it’s cousin Baba Ghanoush. Because? Yep, the eggplant. However, one day, I bought a small tub of Baba Ghanoush from Massis Bakery in Watertown. And while the lights didn’t go on all of a sudden, I sort of found myself thinking, “OK, that’s not horrible.” I seemed to take a liking to the smoky paté of eggplant liberally bathed in garlic. Perhaps my eggplant reluctance was starting to abate. After that initial taste, I remember that I started to buy it from Massis occasionally.
A few years later at a restaurant named India Samraat, I was having dinner with a friend who ordered Baingan Bharta. I tried a little bit of the dish, and this time, the lights went on — 1000 watt bulbs! I was really taken by this dish, and very surprised that I liked it so much. The eggplant tasted like it had been roasted over an open flame which imparted a really nice smokey taste. The tomatoes, spices and peas complimented the eggplant and I started to remember a dictum expressed time and again by my parents: “You don’t know what you’re missing.” This time, they were right! Yep, I had missed the boat.
I quickly made up for a lot of lost time. At Surya Indian Kitchen, a relatively new takeout in Cambridge, I found another restaurant who prepared a compelling version of Baingan Bharta. A touch oily at times, but otherwise, their dish had the smokey flavor and the spicing tuned just right, and I found myself ordering it from them often. My newfound appreciation of eggplant even led me try making Baingan Bharta at home. I discovered that it’s pretty easy to prepare (albeit with one important shortcut) and other than adjusting spices a bit, my first attempt was quite successful. And now I know what I was missing.