While dining at CurryShop, the newly opened
Indian restaurant in Park Slope, I tasted one of the most delicious
soups imaginable followed by one of the strangest desserts.
In a "Seinfeld" episode, Elaine tastes the "Soup
Nazi’s" Mulligatawny soup. After one sip her knees weaken,
she sinks to the ground, looks heavenward and cries, "Oh
my God!" I had a similar experience after tasting the CurryShop’s
Mulligatawny.
The recipe for this awe-inspiring soup is credited to English
import Christopher Sell, the owner and chef of CurryShop (and
ChipShop, the
fish and chips restaurant next door).
The soup is entirely vegetarian, but tastes like a long-simmering
meat soup; I swore that the ground rice and lentils that thicken
the soup were ground lamb. It’s nearly thick enough to stand
a spoon in, and so perfumed with garlic, ginger and cumin that
a cloud of its aroma hits your table a good minute before the
soup arrives.
In fact, a bowl of Sell’s soup is a journey through India by
way of the spoon: an exotic spice odyssey. Every slurp reveals
a different nuance of spice: first coriander, then ginger, then
strongly of chili peppers. A slice of lime sits on the bowl’s
rim. A squeeze of that lime concentrates the spices’ flavors
and gives the soup an acidic zing.
The strangest concoction – and one that disproves the theory
that frying anything will improve its flavor – is a deep-fried
Snickers bar, one of several deep-fried candies that include
the Twix, the Bounty (an English version of our Mars bars), and,
not included on the menu but offered to "those in the know,"
are the fried Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.
Our waiter described the dessert as, "good, but not especially
good for you."
No kidding.
The Snickers bar is dipped in batter then fried to a multi-layered
golden crunchiness. A lavish powdering of confectioner’s sugar
is the final touch. It’s a pretty enough dessert (all 12,000
calories) that resembles a piece of taffy wrapped in gold tissue
paper; and it’s sweet enough to kill a lifetime of sugar cravings.
What’s offered between the high and the low on the CurryShop
menu is very good indeed.
"Indian food in America often hits you with a blast of spice
then the rest of the eating is pretty flat," says Sell.
Not so for the Birmingham Balti, a variant of the one served
by Pakistani immigrants who migrated to England in the mid-’70s.
The balti is named for the Kashmir curry blend the Pakistanis
favored and the cast-iron pan used to cook their curried stir-fries.
"Their curries," says Sell, "have more layers
of flavor. More tomatoes are added so the sauce is redder, and
the curries have a thick onion gravy." Sell doesn’t claim
that CurryShop serves authentic Indian cuisine; but it is authentic
Indian cooking by way of England, and his curries blow the anemic
Indian food, common to many Brooklyn neighborhoods, right out
of the kitchen.
To start, aside from the Mulligatawny, there are light vegetable
and beef samosas (triangular fried pastries); and the cold, curried,
"Coronation Chicken Salad," created in honor of Queen
Victoria’s Jubilee.
The samosas, so often greasy and leaden, are light and crispy,
and the peas, potatoes and carrots inside the vegetable samosas
are lightly seasoned, slightly peppery and very fresh. The samosas
are delicious when dipped into one of three sauces: a refreshing
green mixture of mint, coriander, chilies and yogurt; a slightly
tart tamarind sauce made from a sweet-and-sour blend of fruit,
vinegar and sugar; and a chutney of chopped onions that have
some bite, mixed with syrupy, reduced tomatoes.
Curries are the only entrees, and they are a mix-and-match affair.
Diners are invited to mix one of five sauces with one of five
savory offerings. The sauces begin with vindaloo, "the hot
one," and end with korma, "the mild, creamy, nutty
one," to blend with chicken, beef, shrimp or vegetables.
The balti is traditionally eaten with naan, a slightly puffed
and tangy Indian bread, and it can be ordered that way at CurryShop,
or with a pyramid of perfectly steamed, pea-flecked jasmine rice.
The shrimp vindaloo is deceiving. At first it seems almost mild,
but the heat of the vindaloo’s hot chili powder and fresh green
chilies grows steadily. By the end of the meal we had peeled
off our sweaters and dabbed at our faces with water-dipped napkins.
Instead of being lost in layers of spice, the delicate, sweet
flavor of the shrimp melded beautifully with the sauce adding
a bit of neutral relief to the mouth.
Ordering a bottle of the medium bodied Boddington (one of six
English or Irish beers on draft), with its slightly bitter flavor,
is the best way to control the heat.
The chicken balti (they’re all baltis but this one is called
balti on the menu) is a mix of rich tomato sauce and sweet, slow-cooked
onion sauce flavored with garam masala (a blend of aromatic spices
that includes cardamom, cinnamon, turmeric and fennel seeds).
The balti lacks the slow buildup of heat that makes the vindaloo
so exciting, but its nutty, sweet, savory and bitter notes are
just as flavorful.
For dessert you can order a fried candy bar, as we did, or try
one of the English puddings or trifles listed on the CurryShop
menu.
We tried the trifle described by Sell as being "the ultimate
trailer park food." This trifle is no stodgy, fancy, layered
confection sitting in the center of a Christmas buffet table;
served in a plastic dish, CurryShop’s trifle sports Jell-O, canned
fruit, vanilla custard and a thick topping of whipped cream.
You won’t find a single natural color in the dish – everything
is tinted an odd pink – and its crowning flourish is a dusting
of neon-colored sprinkles. While I wouldn’t place it on my top
10 list of fine desserts, it was refreshing and the cold creaminess
of the pudding was a welcome relief after the curries.
Sell describes the CurryShop’s dining area as "kitschy,"
and its decor does reference India in amusing ways: the walls
are a deep jewel red; the tables are closely packed; and heart-shaped
wicker fans are mounted to the walls. The fans act as discreet
cooling systems quietly waving over the heads of over-heated
spice lovers.
CurryShop (383 Fifth Ave. at Sixth Street
in Park Slope) accepts cash only. Entrees: $8-$11. For more information,
call (718) 832-7701.
