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It
was the picture of Quentin Tarantino
in the window of Monty's that first arrested my attention.
There he was, tucking into something spicy, in Monty's of
Temple Bar. And so was Bono and
various other very famous folk. Clearly, they had either ended
up there by accident or they knew something I didn't. As it
happens, they did.
Monty's set lunch for £7 is perhaps
the best buy in Dublin and the
food is terrific. The chefs are all Nepalese and
although the mainstays of Indian cuisine as known in Ireland
are well represented, there is a definite
flavour of Nepal throughout the menu.
Kukhura
Ko Phaketa turned out to be six plump chicken wings, very
meaty, marinated in a spicy concoction which appeared to involve
a lot of lemon and fresh coriander, and chargrilled. They
were crisp, succulent and tingling with
flavour. Onion bhajees were crisp, not a bit oily and
very, very spicy. Unusually, the natural sweetness of the
onion was the most striking feature of this impressive
version of an old favourite.
Himali
kebab was a rib sticking affair involving a cross between
an omelette and a pancake, quite thick, into which chopped
fresh coriander had been incorporated. This was wrapped around
a filling of tender lamb pieces bathed in a tomato sauce spiked
with chilli and cumin. More sauce was served on the side for
lubrication. The rather mundane sounding kebab cocktail, however,
was even better. A minced lamb
tandoori was chopped into bite-sized pieces and served in
a very rich, buttery tomato sauce, mildly spiced with garam
masala. This was mopped up with some of the
lightest, most delicious naan bread I've ever tasted.
In
a gesture of wild extravagance we consumed a bottle of Bonny
Doon Ca' del Solo Malvasia Bianca (at £16.50) which
kicked the price of this exemplary lunch
to the dizzying heights of £32.60, excluding service.
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Treading
the adventurous track when it comes to dining in the city
can often be expensive and at times a little daunting. But
those looking for a new culinary challenge
at a very reasonable price should consider Monty's of Kathmandu,
Ireland's only Nepalese restaurant.
Simply
decorated with Nepalese motifs, Monty's is perfect for both
the uninitiated diner as well as those who are familiar with
Himalayan cuisine, offering a wide choice of dishes.
The lunchtime
deal, £7.50, for a four-course meal, would have to be
one of the best on offer in the city, and definitely in Temple
Bar.
We dined
on a relatively quiet Saturday afternoon, allowing plenty
of time to soak up the Nepalese hospitality. Service
was prompt and friendly, with a plate of traditional
appetisers arriving soon after we were seated. Popadums piled
high were accompanied by three very different dips - a mild
yoghurt and mint, a tangy onion chutney with sliced cucumber
and chilli (my favourite) and a sweet mango sauce. A
great introduction to the wide variety of tantalising flavours
that have hooked many a backpacker.
Forgoing
more exotic-sounding dishes for the next course, I decided
on the much-maligned onion bhajee, or a plate of four in this
case. Although deep-fried, these were remarkably light, with
a strong coriander flavour.
My friend
opted for the Kukhurako Phaketa, chicken wings marinated in
Himalayan spices and herbs cooked in tandoc. Every bit as
delicious as it sounds, judging by the stripped plate that
left our table.
Continuing
along the traditional route, I chose the Ledo Bedo, Nepalese
curry with freshly ground herbs, spices and laden with fresh
vegetables. Served with rice (or naan if preferred), it made
for a very satisfying main course.
Across
the table my friend enjoyed the Seek Kebab which is minced
lamb in a masala sauce served with a large portion of boiled
rice.
Seeking
something sweet but subtle to end the meal we were both pleased
with our desert choice - the Nepali Heluwa. This Nepalese
sweet's simple description - wheat flour in milk and butter
accompanied by almonds and juicy sultanas - belies just how
delicious it really is.
Washed
down with a coffee, we left Monty's
on a high note with plans to dig out the backpack.
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The Indian
sub-continent is a place of incredible geographic, cultural
and political diversity -- and yet the food always tastes
much the same. You get it very hot, hot or medium. You get
prawns six ways, mutton a dozen ways, chicken 20 ways, a few
vegetarian specialities, three or four kinds of rice (for
which you always pay an extra £2 or so), a couple of regional
dishes, and a range of nan breads, parathas and poppadums.
In theory,
the food of Bangladesh, Pakistan, Nepal, Gujarat, Madras,
Kerala and Sri Lanka should be as varied as its people, but
in practice the pernicious colonising influences of Moghuls
and Brits has produced a food culture as imperialistically
consistent as MacDonald's or Burger King.
So the
roving lager lout can order his chicken vindaloo in Birmingham
or Bombay, and be assured that it will taste very hot, like
chillies roasted in the roof of the mouth, that tears will
come to the eyes, and that copious amounts of ale will be
needed to assuage the fiery temperament.
Now and
again you come across genuine regional dishes. On a visit
to South India, I enjoyed the simple dhosas and iddlies offered
as an alternative to western breakfasts. The dhosas are very
thin pancakes, made from rice flour on a large griddle, sometimes
stuffed with a potato masala. Keralan chefs amuse themselves
by making these pancakes into long rolled funnels, like a
thin parchment stretching across the plate. Iddlies are even
simpler -- steamed rice cakes which you garnish with a sauce
made from the ubiquitous coconut.
I have
not come across these south Indian specialities on a western
menu, and I certainly did not expect to find them on the menu
at Monty's, a Nepalese restaurant which recruits its chefs
from the Himalayan kingdom. Here there are some real Nepalese
specialities to give variety to subcontinental standards such
as chicken Madras and Bombay aloo, but unfortunately we could
not order the intriguing mo mo, Nepalese dumplings served
with momo chutney. This is apparently a very popular dish
among the royal backpackers in Kathmandu, but here it requires
24 hours notice and you have to place a minimum order for
six plates at £8.50 each.
There
were three of us on a quiet Tuesday night in Temple Bar. Service
was so prompt that we had to beg for more time to read
the extensive menu. We ordered a bottle of Pinot Grigio delle
Venezie (£13.50) to start with -- a dry north Italian white
with just enough aromatic zing to work with well-balanced
spices (nothing will work if the chefs simply dump in handfuls
of chilli and curry powder).
And as
is so often the case in these restaurants, each of us considered
the order very carefully, as if it were a matter of the greatest
significance that we have the sag chicken (£7.60), served
with spinach, rather than the chicken dhansak (£7.95), served
hot, sweet and sour with lentils. Such discrimination means
little when dishes arrive sizzling in the middle of the table,
and everyone dips in like kids at a birthday party.
Inevitably,
too, we ordered so much food that if we had the culture of
the doggy bag in Ireland, we would have had enough left over
for the rest of the week. And this was so despite a circumspect
order from a reluctant vegetarian among us, who was content
simply with a single order for vegetable biryani (£7.50).
Biryanis are cooked in rice, so they are a clever way round
the problem of having to order rice with each main dish. In
many restaurants, they give you a single plate of rice among
three or four people, with each person billed separately.
Here they were much kinder to us,
and a single plate of nicely cooked pilao-style basmati cost
us £2.20 for two.
We started
with crisp, spicy poppadums (three for £2.40), which we dipped
in a range of chutneys. We had already lost our peckishness
before the starters arrived.
I began
with a dish of chicken choilia (£4.25), which is described
as a special spicy chicken. I have no idea what was special
about it, but it was certainly delicately
spiced and intricate in flavour.
My companion's
prawn puri, spicy prawns on very soft bread (£4.50), was also
very successful -- and the prawns
were large, firm and fresh. Clearly these
Nepalese chefs were of a different calibre from the
fellows who serve fiery baltis to the great unwashed of Birmingham.
One of
the specialities of the house, the most expensive item on
the menu, is tandoori king prawn cocktail (£14.95), cooked
with onions and capsicum in a rich creamy sauce. Tandooris
are Himalayan clay oven dishes, and they can be a superb way
of cooking meat and chicken dishes slowly to seal in flavours.
The prawns were tempting, but I decided to go for the more
comprehensive tandoori mixed grill (£10.95), which included
tandoori chicken, chicken tikka, lamb tikka, sheek kebab and
a few of the king prawns. This was a
wonderful dish, at the heart of which was a large spiced
lamb sausage.
My companions
were soon dipping into my mixed grill, while I sampled the
vegetable biryani and a splendid Kathmandu
dish of chicken chilli (£9.50), which was deep fried
in onions, capsicum, tomatoes and green chillies. We had also
ordered side dishes of Bombay aloo (£4.25), a potato curry
and tarka dal (£4.10), a dish of spicy lentils.
After
so much food, dessert was out of the question. And yet we
agreed that the food was
beautifully cooked, light and delicate in conception.
Monty's is one of the best Indian sub-continent
restaurants in the country, and I was delighted that
it appeared to be free of the dollops of ghee, or clarified
butter, that so many establishments add to give a pseudo western
`richness' to otherwise simple food.
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