The local edge

One of the pleasures of eating out in Delhi is access to a lot of good regional food because of the large immigrant and expat population. Here’s a look at three local examples.

Gung the Palace, Green Park, Korean: Gung, like the Restaurant de Seoul and Sun and Moon, came up as a natural response to the growing number of Korean expats in corporate Delhi. The first impression is not promising: Gung’s décor is determinedly old-school. The profusion of porcelain Mandarin ducks, lucky bamboos and chintzy calendars makes this yet another restaurant furnished by way of the local feng shui shop.

 

But once the food arrives, all is forgiven. Gung does classic Korean, from bibimbap (mixed rice with assorted meats and vegetables, including strips of pork belly and bellflower root) to the barbecued, marinated pork and beef ribs, cooked on a hot stone. Gung uses crystal hot plates, will offer only steel chopsticks, and on my four visits there, has always sourced only the best grades of seafood and meats. The accompaniments, from classic kimchis to the traditional cold omelettes and potato pancakes, are generous; the gochujang (fermented chili paste) is excellent, and the flavours are bold, earthy and unmistakably authentic. The seating is traditional; low tables with sunken benches. Get past the décor, and this could be one of the best places for Korean food in India.

Nagaland’s Kitchen, Green Park: Run by the team behind the Nagaland food stall in Dilli Haat, this is a great idea in sore need of fine-tuning. The strength of the Longkumer family lies in their recipes — the Raja Mirch meat puts the bhoot jholakia chili to good use, the pork curries (especially the classic one with bamboo shoots) made me nostalgic for the hills, and the simple, steamed/ braised vegetables are always fresh. But the service has been eccentric, or surly, on all of my visits; the low prices are matched by the shabby tableware, and the waiters won’t tell you about the range of smoked meats and fish on the menu. This really is good food — Mosaic in Connaught Place was one of the few predecessors that tried to bring in the ferns-and-black-sesame flavours of the Northeast — but not great enough to overcome Kitchen’s generally lackadaisical atmosphere.

Souza Lobo, Greater Kailash-II: Souza Lobo has a venerable name in Goa — the signature shack has been a tourist attraction for years — but most locals don’t rate the place. In Calangute, the high turnover meant that the kingfish, mussels and seafood were always fresh, but you could get better sorpotel and cafreal curries at the local shacks, and far more inventive food at places like Thalassa or A Reverie.

But in Delhi, where we’ve been starved of good Goan food for years, Souza Lobo scores. The first meal I had there wasn’t impressive; the fish was obviously frozen (they’d lost the home advantage of having seafood at their doorstep), and the flavour of the sorpotel was thin, the spices toned down for the presumably unadventurous Delhi palate. Subsequent visits were better; Souza Lobo’s attempts to recreate the atmosphere of Goa’s beach shacks may not have worked, but their vindaloo is almost home-style, the bebinca a respectable 10-12 layers, the sorpotel duly thickened with blood. And a kind of magic has happened (assisted by the shift to fish suppliers from Cochin): the pomfret recheado and the kingfish curry will, almost, transport you back to the amiably noisy beaches of Calangute or Anjuna. This isn’t fine food, but it is good, nostalgic Goan food.

[Nilanjana S Roy is a writer]