I admit it. I am an addict.
I’d eat at Masala every night if I could afford to. The food is that delicious and varied.
Instead it’s once or twice a week – lunch or dinner. I’m there so often that the owner, Divyang Patel, knows me by name, and if I see one of the smiley waiters in the street on their days off we chat.
Masala Indian cuisine is comfort food, and the spongy chairs, warm atmosphere and extensive bar selection is a bonus – whenever I bring my own bottle of wine Divyang will examine the region, date and type and give his opinion.
Last week we cracked open Pegasus Bay’s Bel Canto dry Riesling (2008) to Divyang’s approval, while picking at our entrees of prawns and sheekh kebabs.
The marinated tandoori prawns were neatly served in all their orange glory. Textural and fresh, their spiciness was complemented by the yoghurt-based sauce.
Masala is nothing but generous – we counted at least 10 on the plate.
The vege sheekh kebabs – four cylindrical rows of minced vegetables mixed with spices – were mildly spicy and the yoghurty sauce added moisture to the crumbed morsels.
As the tables around us began to fill with couples, groups of workmates and gossiping girls we reminisced about our Masala experience two days before.
I was celebrating my birthday on the same night as the Wellington Youth Choir and when my mates sang Happy Birthday, the table behind us joined in as did members of the choir. (Divyang scolded me for not telling him in advance: “we would have made you a cake,” he said.)
On to mains, we couldn’t resist the tried and true – butter chicken and malai kofta.
Both served in creamy gravy with the obligatory dipping garlic naan, the homemade deep-fried balls of cottage cheese, nuts and potato (malai kofta) were sticky and moreish and the barbeque boneless chicken (butter chicken) was a winner as always.
Help, I’m not sure I can wait another week for my Masala fix.