Unity in Community
Nirvana's Indian dining and communal atmosphere offer everyone the
chance to get the dish on one another.
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CHEF SURESH SINGH (SECOND FROM LEFT) AND THE STAFF OF NIRVANA GO OUT OF THEIR WAY TO PROVIDE A FRESH TAKE ON THE INDIAN DINING EXPERIENCE.
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WHAT: Nirvana
CUISINE: Indian
WHEN: Lunch and Dinner Tuesday through Saturday
WHERE: 4308 Magazine St., 894-9797
CARDS: Major
I remember the first time I tried the whole communal dining
experience, and, yes, it was at an Indian restaurant. A group of 12, many of
whom I didn't know very well, headed over to the popular Indian restaurant in
my hometown, ordered 12 different dishes and proceeded to share every dish, as
well as their own life stories.
There's something about the nature of Indian food, with its
polyglot of spices, sauces, vegetables and broken-down bits of meat, that is
wholly conducive to the communal experience. It is meant to be passed around.
Heck, the food alone is a conversation starter. Recently, I assembled a diverse
group of five other friends I wanted to connect with each other and brought
them to Nirvana, the third and most recent Indian restaurant from the Keswani
family -- and the results were similar.
I intentionally recruited a pair of vegetarians for the group to
showcase another strength of Indian food, with equally successful results. With
the help of Anjy Keswani -- who, with his mother, Anila, and late father, Har,
previously opened Taj Mahal in Metairie and Shalimar in the French Quarter --
we were able to share a nine-course meal that seemed to span the spectrum of
Indian dining. And, judging from the Magazine Street restaurant's huge menu, we
barely scratched the surface.
We started with rugda pati (potato cakes topped with curried
garbanzo beans bathed in yogurt with cilantro) and chicken chat (shredded
tandoori chicken and vegetables with crispy wafers) for our appetizers. They
alone could serve as perfect examples of Nirvana's mantra of spice-blending
without ruining delicate systems. The chicken chat, especially, was
surprisingly tame while being spicy, marinated in a chutney sauce with tamarind
and mint that gave an almost jerk flavor -- hot, yes, but easy on the
stomach.
"It's just a blend of spices," Anjy Keswani says. "We're not trying
to go for the kill here."
The ragda pati went over very well with the vegetarians, who both
noted how the dish "breaks out with flavor."
As we dined on appetizers and later the entrees, our waiter trotted
three of Nirvana's different bread offerings (the menu offers 13 different
types): regular naan, the onion kulcha, and the paratha, a layered wheat bread
that was a little buttery for my tastes.
The next wave brought one of the stand-outs of the evening: shrimp
tikka masala, which features jumbo shrimp with onions and tomatoes and bell
peppers in a tomato-and-cream sauce. The shrimp was cooked to perfection:
tender but not too soft. And the blend, once again, of spice and sauce proved
once again why the exotic possibilities of Indian cooking can provide a unique
spin on the presumably familiar.
As we marveled over the shrimp, the vegetarians went to town on the
other highlight: malai kofta, one of a whopping 16 veggie dishes on the menu.
Vegetable dumplings in an onion-and-cream sauce, malai kofta might have been
the richest and most flavor-packed item on the menu and virtually fell apart in
the mouth.
Though I once was warned against ordering chicken dishes at nice
restaurants -- life's too short, I was told -- I relented when offered the
malai kebab. It was a smart decision, especially considering that it's a new
dish not found in the Keswanis' other restaurants. One of the highlights of the
tandoori oven, this roasted breast of chicken was enlivened by a basting of
cashew nuts and cream cheese. Tender doesn't begin to describe the dish,
characterized by one our companions as "sex on a fork."
More dishes whizzed by: saag paneer, a creamed spinach with
homemade Indian cheese made from cow milk; seenkh kebab, a ground lamb sausage;
bhindi masala, okra sauteed with onions, tomatoes, cumin and coriander; and
lamb korma, a cubed leg of lamb in an almond and cashew sauce. As I had hoped,
former strangers were splitting beers (the Taj Mahal beer is seemingly built
for two), sharing bottles of wine and trading bites like old friends. We got to
know each other while aided by Nirvana's simple, sophisticated ambience, made
particularly warm by the large, wok-shaped lamps hanging from the original
ceiling. Indian-themed paintings and elephant friezes provide just the right
cultural dash to the room, awash in yellow and blue. Warm, but not sleepy.
Bright, but not blinding.
Taking it all in, one friend remarked, "This place is just
flawless."
Keswani designed the interior, which was built by Tom Fristoe, a
veteran in the restaurant business who's returning to his carpentry roots. "It
just makes you feel good to be in there," Anjy Keswani says.
Though stuffed, we sampled the gulab jamun (milk balls in a honey
soup), which a bit rich for my taste but brought coos from the others still up
to take the challenge.
As I left, exhausted, I watched as the other five former strangers
laughed while piling into their cars to continue their newly found friendship
into the Friday evening.
Mission accomplished.
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