Restaurant Review: Thali, 42 Albion Street, Merchant City, Glasgow

Published on Friday 29 January 2010 14:36

FROM Mother India's Café to Balbir's and the inestimable KoolBa, Glasgow has no shortage of curry houses, so it takes something pretty special to stand out from the crowd.

Step forward Thali, in the Merchant City, which is run by the Dilbers, a Sikh family who saw a gap in the market for authentic Indian cuisine.

Thali – which simply means 'plate' in Hindi, and is a reference to the steel tray on which it is served – is the food on which millions of ordinary Indians survive, but it's only recently that it has become incredibly popular in this country. This style of cooking is as much a philosophy of food as a definitive list of ingredients, and it's certainly a far cry from the ubiquitous mass-produced, uber-creamy fare that is served up in Indian restaurants the length and breadth of the country.

The idea behind thali is to produce a well-balanced meal by mixing traditional ingredients in small quantities, almost like an Indian tapas. The Dilbers' version usually consists of a protein dish such as fish, meat or the Indian cheese paneer, a lentil dish and something seasonal, along with rice and bread served in separate containers. But there are any number of variations on the theme, with chapati, papadum and yoghurt also featuring prominently. The way thali is served also varies from region to region, with the the dish being served on banana leaves in southern India; there are even eat-all-you-can versions.

Walking through the Merchant City, with its bustling restaurants and bars, it would be very easy to miss Thali were news of it not beginning to spread. Once you've found it, you enter through a small, discreet frontage and are shown down a corridor festooned with little candlelit niches in the walls and with the unmistakable smell of joss sticks. It's just a few feet until the corridor opens out and you're in a long room with a bar at one end, a row of tables on the right hand side and a row of booths on the left. Although the carpets may be crimson, but the dcor is contemporary, stylish and a world away from the traditional curry-house kitsch.

The first thing you notice when you sit down are the table mats, which are a step-by-step guide to the concept of thali. On the walls of the booths, into which six people can squeeze, are small television screens with an unobtrusive subtitled video explaining the different spices you'll encounter during your meal. My children joked that it was like curry school, an institution they'd clearly be keen to attend.

Their cheeriness increased with each tray of food and drink that arrived. First up were small glasses of the sweet, non-fizzy lemonade called nimbu pani, followed by a seemingly never-ending array of tiffin-style finger food. First there was aloo chaat, crisp semolina and flour chips covered with yoghurt; then there was bhel puri, a tangy salad with puffed rice, onions, tomatoes, peanuts and chillis. Even the son who won't normally touch tomatoes or onions waded in. The whole-wheat puffed biscuits with tamarind sauce and spicy stuffing (gol guppa) and lentil dumplings with yoghurt sauce (dahi bhalla) disappeared with equally indecent haste.

The starters and main courses were all uniformly excellent, fresh, crisp and completely free from the synthetically vivid colours of orange pilau rice or bright red prawn puri. When eating out as a family, the joy of the tapas format is that nothing on the table is ever left untried as the children's natural curiosity gets the better of them. Each of the brood had their favourites: Ailsa liked the chilli meatballs with a tangy drizzle; Lochie the chicken breast cooked in yoghurt, cheese, cardamom, chillis and coriander (murgh malai tikka); and Ollie the minced chicken patties infused with herbs (shami kebab).

As for Bea and I, we were spoilt for choice. The lamb in spinach (saag gosht) and the black lentils simmered overnight with tomatoes and cream (daal makhani) were gloriously rich and warming, while the okra sauted with onions and red chilli powder and dusted with mango powder (bhindi), and the spiced chicken breasts with peppers and onions (kadhai chicken), added a nice hot edge to proceedings. The prawns marinated in coconut milk and simmered red chilli and kokum sauce (prawn malabari) also deserve a mention, as does my own personal favourite, the Hyderabadi classic baingan, in which sauted aubergine is simmered in a rich, spicy onion and tamarind sauce.

So full that we could barely talk, Bea and I gave pudding a miss, but the children ploughed on regardless. Ollie wolfed down the gulab jamin, syrupy dumplings that come with ice-cream, while his brother and sister settled for pistachio kulfi, a distinctive ice-cream-like pudding made from evaporated milk, sweetened condensed milk, double cream, sugar and cornflour-water paste. All three emitted little grunts of satisfaction as quiet reigned until their bowls were scraped clean.

Asked for their verdict, the children were unequivocal: ten out of ten. I think that's a little over the top, but only a little. Thali was voted by The List magazine as the best place to eat in Glasgow in 2009, and with fantastic service, a Lilliputian bill and authentic Indian food, there's little doubt that we'll be back.

Vital statistics

Thali

42 Albion Street, Merchant City, Glasgow (0141-552 8332, www.thaliglasgow.com)

Out of pocket

Starters 3.95-5.95 Base thalis 3.50-3.95 Puddings 3.95

Rating 9/10

&#149 This article was first published in Scotland on Sunday, January 31, 2010