Anthony Bourdain once wrote about a game he played with fellow chefs called the Death Row Game, where each player must choose what would behis or her last meal on earth. Against all expectations they often chose their favourite home cooked meal over any highfalutin fourteen course degustation menu. ‘The word Mom usually comes up. Bread and butter… and a bowl of pasta are popular answers.’ So when at death’s door, comfort food wins over gourmet cuisine every time.
It made me think about what would be my last meal. And the answer came to me recently at a restaurant in Santa Monica: Indian.
I first introduced our three small children to Indian cuisine in Broadway, a small town in the Cotswolds where my husband and I had got married several years before. My husband was aghast. What was I thinking? But the kids were hungry and the pubs were closed and we were miles from an acceptable chain restaurant. The kids were thrilled with their first foray into sub-continental cuisine and have never looked back. Since then, Indian has been their unanimous cuisine of choice for birthday dinners, special occasions and Friday night takeaways.
So when we found ourselves in Santa Monica with a democratic debate rapidly disintegrating into a family squabble about where to eat, the discovery of ‘Gate of India’ felt heaven sent. Authentic Indian cuisine was being served beneath a canopy of coloured fabrics. It had been listed in the Zagat Guide in 1999. It was open.
It may be that we were hungry and therefore extra appreciative, but we were unequivocally delighted with our lunch. We ordered old favourites and unfamiliar new temptations. We then proceeded, greedily and appreciatively, to empty every pretty copper bowl, only just stopping short of licking them clean.
Apart from one overly mild and rather dreary chicken tikka masala, all the dishes were warmly received by someone. The fish tandoori was tender but firm, marinated in a fresh ginger sauce and served on a sizzling platter.
I encouraged the kids to try all three vegetable dishes and they all obliged me with mixed success. The boys generally demur on anything green. However, my husband, my daughter and I gleefully devoured the okra bhuna (improved by pairing it with a sophisticated homemade mango chutney), the eggplant bhorta and the daal makhani: a tasty concoction that used five kinds of lentils cooked in spices and tomatoes.
But the number one winner (well I refused to allow the vote to go to the butter chicken, despite the kids enthusiasm – it’s not my favourite at the best of times and this certainly wasn’t one of those ah-ha moments) – was a lamb karahi. Slow cooked and spicy, the sauce rich and smooth, it melted in the mouth and left my taste buds regretting its passing.
I am really sorry the Gate to India is not just around the corner, but it has certainly confirmed that an Indian banquet with my family will be number one on my Last Supper Wish List. And at least I can rest assured they will all come!