Rasam

Funny thing ‘atmosphere’. I’m not into it much; when it comes to dining out I’ll take ‘food’ every time – give me my beef rare, my salmon wild, my pasta al dente and I’ll give a place the thumbs up though the ambience is working overtime to mimic a funeral parlour on a foggy February morning. Yet sometimes atmospherics do work for me. There are two restaurants in Dublin capable of transporting me to exotic places in the mind. The first gastro-Tardis is Restaurant Patrick Guilbaud, where the minute I descend into the dining room I am whisked away to La Rochelle, Bordeaux or some other well set up provincial city and confronted with all that dining in France implies including beaucoup d’attitude serieux. The other is an Indian restaurant in Sandycove/Glasthule where, despite the no-show of flock wallpaper, liveried sepoys and sitar music, they manage to recreate, ever so subtly, the aura of the sub-continent.
This restaurant is called Rasam, located above the Eagle House where Duzy’s and, previously, Clarets used to woo diners. Décor is largely contemporary, bolstered up with coloured feathers, rose bowls and silver elephants of varying sizes. The chairs are Charles Rennie Mackintosh-meets-W. Somerset Maugham. There is no such thing as a bad table but a carefully contrived alcove bestowing exclusivity and privacy is the pick of the dining accommodation for a party of six-to-nine. On the night we were only two, so this desirable hideaway was not an option.
Another of Rasam’s prime assets is host, Nisheeth Tak, Asia’s answer to Martin Corbett.
How’s this for an impeccable track record? The Sagar in Harcourt Street, Poppadom, Jaipur, Vermilion, Jaipur (Malahide) – a roll call of the Dublin restaurants that have helped elevate Indian cooking in the capital to the foothills of haute cuisine. Nisheeth is a gracious, courteous man, a meeter-and-greeter to the manner born who will remember your guests, your taste in food and drink, probably even your birthday this time next year. In short, a consummate professional.
Ambitious young Indian chefs see Dublin as a stepping stone to London, staying a short while before heading for sexy eateries like Benares or Tamarind, which is why Rasam’s menu is about to change. At the moment a new chef is playing himself in, cooking his predecessor’s dishes for the time being. In a few short weeks he’ll start to slant the menu towards the culinary gems of his own province. This is a major part of Rasam’s attraction. The clapped out clichés indigenous to the usual suburban curry shop do not appear on the menu nor will they ever. But even though the cooking here is sophisticated, even esoteric, there’s nothing pretentious about it; it’s ever so soundly rooted in tradition.
We sat down to a bowl of what appeared to be the spicy and delicious Indian version of cheese straws, accompanied by various dips including yoghurt and chutney. The trick was not to demolish the stack, especially as we were intent on eating three courses – purely in the interests of research, you understand! The wine list proved interesting and the mark-ups were certainly not excessive. E39 for Jim Barry’s wonderful Macrae Wood Shiraz, for example. Good to see Hugel’s intriguing Gentil, a blend of the five Alsace grapes and Guy Saget’s fine Sancerre. We picked, for company, a bottle of Yalumba Eden Valley Chardonnay – the wild ferment – and were not disappointed, especially at the asking price of E24.50.
We shared a murg tikka – chicken “steeped in a marinade of royal cumin (what differentiates it from republican cumin I know not), enriched with yoghurt, cream, garlic and hint of coriander, finished in tandoor.” It was excellent. From the texture and flavour the chicken had to be free range. And we had a friendly tiff over who was to have the lion’s share of the duck churma – moist duck breast stir-fried with peppers and Cointreau served with orange-flavoured nan, a somewhat Kiplingesque delight from Pondicherry (I can’t imagine there was a great deal of Cointreau splashing about outside the Raj watering holes but Nisheeth assured me the dish is authentic). Our poles-apart mains were a rogini ghost, lamb cooked on the bone (though served off it) with fairly dry brisk spices and a dakshin jinga curry, tasty prawns swimming in a bowl of coconut milk and tamarind flavoured sauce. We also ordered a side dish of mushrooms, tossed with cumin and fresh coriander and finished with lime. I loved the way you could taste all three spices, each one a featured soloist as well as a skilled ensemble player, a Duke Ellington small group of a dish. Delicious nan bread and pulao rice with every grain rolling and crested with caramelised onion were additional delights.
Though I’m a big fan of Indian sweets I certainly couldn’t have managed halwa or jalabi. I was resolved to fight my lady for the rose petal crème brûlée, as fragrant, light and delicate and end to a meal as I’ve ever tasted. In the event I backed off and ordered a lime and ginger sorbet, exquisitely refreshing. We finished with coffee and I have to say this Indian restaurant made a better stab at espresso than many a Dublin specialist coffee shop.
The bill came to e95, staggering value for all we ate and drank, especially when you take into consideration the fact that we went through the card. On a normal night one of us would have skipped the starter; the other the dessert and we’d have got away with around E80.To sum up: Rasam, only open a few short months, has made a sizzling start. A brilliant fusion of style and substance, it already looks well capable of taking a place alongside Monty’s, Jaipur, Diep and Poppadom, Dublin’s great ethnic restaurants.
Rasam, 18/19 Glasthule Road, Dun Laoghaire, Co Dublin
Tel: (01) 230 0600 Open daily, dinner only.