II Punjabee Rasoi II

Contrary to the legend, Byron's Don Juan was on the receiving end of seduction. I clearly felt his phantom kicking in during a recent meal at Punjabee Rasoi [henceforth PR]. Dealings with Adrak ke Punje, aka Burra Kebabs, approximated the sweet struggle of intense lovemaking. Like a seduced Don I fluidly dug out shreds of succulence from the moist recesses of stiff ribs jutting out in false defiance. In substance, sizable lamb chops marinated in hung curd, skewered, roasted on the bone and charred to an impeccable grill chafed with a gingerly accent. A relish that had begun on restraint ended in me licking the layers of spices and aromatics off dainty ribs with eyes shut. Time rolled. So did my jaunt. #uncookedwords #punjabeerasoi

Ajwani Fish Tikka of PR had the unusual gift of sending a landlubber fishing. Grilled to crunchy orangeness with monk-like poise, a supple block of Calcutta Bhetki fillet held a bouquet of Ajwain and choicest spices inside a tender core. Enchanted, I kept slipping into a Minotaur’s maze of mesmeric Kebabs.

Until then I'd held that a regular like Chicken Lasuni Kebab barely had any trick left for me in the bag. However, one that landed on my squeaky plate - a smoky masterpiece of keen processing, patience and grill yielding in bites of lingering tenderness, laid that idea downright waste. My first bite worked like taking the lid off a bottle of perfume unleashing a flavorous riot. Think Charles Bronson in Armani, or raw emotion draped in a class that’s timeless.

Like a selfless sidekick what kept pepping up all the grills was a brisk mint dip the match of which, I admit, is rare. Time to escape the maze and summon the aid of Theseus had finally arrived. Though, as always, what would best ease the move to main-course was a concern.

Dal Makhni is discussed if ever tasting worse than bad. OR, so good that you suddenly start missing your departed ancestry at table. PR’s slow-cooked rendering of the delicacy excelled with a buttery base buoying up sparkling beans and mushy lentils like etched scars on a shiny ebony. With a rich finish it embraced Garlic Naan – another gem in its own right, with love, spinning an aftertaste that makes a carnivore of my order defect and talk green. Well, briefly. And, miss forefathers. Those moist breads drizzled with diced garlic could easily make for a Nobel if there were one for delicious Naans. Now I was no longer hungry yet aching for more. That’s desire. And, ordering is much more than just casting a line blindly.

Ordering Chicken Tikka Butter Masala in a Panjabi restaurant is next to ritual. Juicy chunks of chicken dunked in buttery richness delighted with well-placed overnotes of Ajwain curbing the patronizing sweetness of the gravy. Again, Garlic Naans were summoned to help mop the bowl dry. Like meals of taste make me guiltlessly overeat, and wish for setting off on a long walk as penance. But that never happens.

I did find bits of the soul of north-Indian cuisine allover my elaborate meal that day. This soulful ‘Rasoi’ is clearly playing a value-game that’s unlikely to fail unless levity sets in. More of success remains my sole wish for Punjabee Rasoi until I retrace my steps to those Adrak ke Punje. And, that day is not far-off.