A restaurant that comes with all the right ingredients but doesn’t quite hit the spot
In the past six months, this boy from Bombay has taught himself to develop a taste for doner kebabs, risottos and rice noodles, only to avoid the disappointment that is the search for authentic Indian food. Whenever I ventured out to dine, all I found were pale imitations of the dal and curries that I was used to. Thankfully, on such occasions, few tried to find out what I really thought of the food they had to offer.
How was the meal, you ask? I haven’t had a decent one in six months!
When I heard of Chutney Roti from my brethren, it took a while for me to get excited. Many Indians studying at Cardiff University, I was told, visit the place for comfort food. One day, after yet another failed experiment with home-cooked Kadai Mushroom, I grabbed my wallet, slipped on a jacket and took to the streets leading to the sleepy Whitchurch Road, where the Indian fine-dine restaurant is located.
The name itself was not reassuring. In my experience, ‘chutney’ – a cold sauce usually made of spices, herbs and yoghurt – and ‘roti’, a flatbread, isn’t usually served as a twosome. But the nitpicking stopped as soon as I walked into the restaurant.
For most part, Chutney Roti has a classy, almost romantic feel about it. It can easily accommodate around 40 people on a busy day. The place serves what is predominantly north-Indian dishes, a cholesterol-rich fare sold in ready-to-heat packs at major supermarket chains. My fellow culinary explorers – two classmates from two ends of Asia, both of whom confessed to having a spicy-tooth – and I decided to try dishes from each course.
The first our list was Malai Kabab Zafrani, a chicken appetizer served with a mint chutney. Although the meat was succulent and it had just the right amount of spice, it was low on cream. Still, it had hints of the real deal. Not a bad start at all.
As we waited for the mains, we got talking to the employees. Much to my delight, the manager and the head chef had worked in some of the best hotels in Bombay. Then they told me that they traced their family origins to North India and I gave in to the temptation of requesting for Dal Makhani, a thick, creamy broth that, if done right, is part lentils and part sin.
The service was prompt and efficient but that might be because we were the only diners for a considerable part of the evening. Within 10 minutes of the starters, the serving staff wheeled out the mains: a portion of Lachcha Paratha and Butter Naan, a bowl of Butter Chicken, Saag with Paneer, Lamb Biryani and of course, the much anticipated Dal.
I’ve got to admit: the ingredients were carefully picked, resulting in rich, delicious flavours. The naan and parathas tasted just as good as they looked. The biryani, with its long grains of basmati rice and generous helping of diced lamb, coupled with a dash of caramelized onions and cool green corianders on the top, was just the right fit for the mains.
The weight of expectations, however, were shouldered by the curries. Thankfully, they were thick and consisted of so much more than the tomato base (you hear that, Lidl?). After months of chewing the rubber that many eateries serve in the garb of paneer, the Saag was refreshing with its soft cubes of cottage cheese, coated with a fine blend of spinach and cream. Butter Chicken, a Punjabi favourite, was lacking in salt but could have still been been a winner if only they hadn’t toned down the fieriness of the original.
I tasted Dal the last, fully aware that I would be heartbroken if it didn’t perform. And it did! Well, almost. It looked the part, smelled the part but took a slight beating on the taste department. But I won’t hold it against them. It was nothing that a spoonful of butter couldn’t remedy.
We rounded up with a slice of Kulfi, ice-cream made in earthern pots typical to the Indian subcontinent, and chocolate samosa with a side of ice cream. Turned out, the Kulfi and the side-serving of ice-cream was the same flavour of pistachio. Although quite yummy, you couldn’t tell the difference unless you were really looking. The samosa, a fried pastry with chocolate stuffing, was mildly oily, a disappointment that was neutralized when you ate it with the ice cream.
Chutney Roti is the closest I have come to north Indian cuisine in all my months at Cardiff. And for that, it will always have a soft spot in my heart. That said, my search for 10/10 Indian fare continues. Watch this space.
Address: Chutney Roti, 90-92, Whitchurch Road, Cardiff CF14 3LY
Price: ££
Score: 7/10
India has a lot of cuisines and they differ in each part of the country. Here are some of the varieties on offer and where you can find them in Cardiff (Pictures used are for representational purposes only):