4/5 Jackie M. 4 years ago on Google
Flavour
of
India
has
been
a
fixture
of
Sydney’s
dining
scene
for
29
years.
The
usual
peak-hour
William
Street
crawl
to
the
Eastern
Suburbs
gives
you
plenty
of
time
to
contemplate
its
bright
orange
signage,
done
in
a
font
that
now
has
retro
appeal.
The
interior
of
this
long-standing
restaurant
is
more
glamorous
than
the
exterior
would
lead
you
to
believe.
Gleaming
chandeliers
&
the
wood
panelling
ceiling
look
like
they
have
been
there
since
the
80s,
when
the
venue
started
out
life
as
an
Italian
restaurant.
It’s
surprisingly
well
insulated
from
the
traffic
too,
with
dancing
lights
on
an
ornate
mirror
&
a
faint
distant
hum,
the
only
indications
that
we’re
parked
right
on
a
busy
Sydney
thoroughfare.
Flavour
of
India
biggest
claim
to
fame
is
it
was
the
site
of
INXS
musician
Michael
Hutchence’s
last
meal,
before
he
was
found
dead
in
the
Ritz
Carlton
hotel
the
next
morning,
staff
explain
when
they
deliver
our
pappadums.
Crisp,
dry
&
flavoursome
against
mint
raita,
a
good
mango
chutney
and
an
undressed
kachumber
salad,
the
pappadums
sustain
us
while
we
unravel
the
menu.
It’s
got
some
peculiarities
–
dishes
(spicy
crab
served
in
potato
skins)
&
ingredients
(like
cherries
in
lamb
meatballs
with
a
sweet
&
sour
cherry
reduction)
that
you
don’t
usually
associate
with
Indian
cuisine.
As
staff
explain,
the
restaurant
has
evolved
to
meet
the
needs
of
the
local
residents,
who
don't
always
want
to
eat
spicy
cuisine.
It
is
impressive
that
chef
Hayat
Mahamud,
who
has
been
with
Flavour
of
India
since
its
inception,
invents
his
own
curries
to
address
the
wants
and
needs
of
locals.
However,
over
a
clever
East
India
Punch
($30/litre)
that
summons
the
British
colonies
with
freshly
pressed
lemons
and
house
tonic,
rounded
out
with
a
little
pineapple
&
almond
intrigue,
I
make
my
curry
selections
&
give
these
dishes,
along
with
the
house
speciality,
butter
chicken,
a
wide
berth.
We
opt
to
begin
with
a
entrée
from
the
tandoor
selection
-
a
shared
Charcoal
Sizzling
Platter
($35).
Presented
on
a
cast
iron
pan
insulated
with
a
banana
leaf,
it’s
won
by
the
nicely
charry
lamb
cutlets
kept
juicy
&
pink
under
a
gentle
yoghurt,
ginger
and
spice
marinade.
Big
ling
fillets
are
cooked
gently
in
the
tandoor
then
accompanied
by
an
achar
of
preserved
lemon,
turmeric
and
a
hint
of
chilli.
It’s
my
view
that
the
generous
portion
of
chicken
tikka
could
do
with
more
chilli
bite,
because
it
becomes
a
little
bland
when
dragged
through
the
accompanying
mint
yoghurt.
With
the
menu
ranging
all
over
the
Subcontinent,
we
move
onto
a
Goan
curry,
an
more
unusual
Chicken
Vindaloo
($26).
Coming
from
the
west
coast
of
India,
this
dish
shows
Portuguese
trader
influence.
It’s
basically
meat
in
a
garlic
wine
marinade
(carne
de
vinha
d’alhos)
turned
Indian
by
switching
the
red
wine
for
palm
vinegar
and
throwing
in
plenty
of
dried
red
chillies.
Against
fragrant,
well-separated
Basmati
Rice
($3/person)
it’s
a
pleasantly
spicy
curry
that
has
a
big
tangy
vinegar
hit
to
aid
digestion.
The
digestive
aid
is
going
to
be
especially
welcome
if
you
order
a
Cheese
&
Garlic
Naan
($6.50).
While
ridiculously
tasty,
Flavour
of
India’s
thick,
almost
pancake-like
naans
are
likely
to
stonker
you
completely.
They’re
so
cheesy
and
good
just
by
themselves,
I
almost
forgot
to
dip
it
into
my
Beef
Kerala
($26)
gravy.
This
is
a
lovely
curry
from
the
southern
tip
of
the
India,
an
area
blessed
with
swaying
coconut
palms.
Coconut
cream
makes
its
way
into
this
coastal
curry
along
with
garlic
and
fresh
curry
leaves,
for
a
simplified
flavour
palate
against
potato
and
falling-apart
hunks
of
beef
that
will
remind
you
of
rendang.
We
order
it
spicy
and
are
not
disappointed
with
the
slow
building
heat.
You’ll
also
get
some
fresh
chilli
bite
on
the
Chilli
&
Cheese
Naan
($7),
made
in
a
similarly
thick
and
cheesy
style
to
the
cheese
and
garlic
naan,
but
easier
to
eat
with
the
bright,
freshly
cut
chilli
rings
breaking
up
the
imminent
death-by-cheese
richness.
We
left
stuffed
but
smiling,
happy
to
have
seen
why
Flavour
of
India
has
survived
in
Sydney’s
often
brutal
restaurant
scene
for
nearly
thirty
years.