Nirvana rocks

Mississauga strip mall home to heavenly Indian food
Review by Alan A. Vernon
Toronto.com

With the local love fest for Indian food showing no signs up letting up, it's so sad to see that choices among restos has degenerated into a tiresome treadmill of cookie-cutter curries and myriad other done-to-death dishes. If we have to ingest one more desiccated chicken tikka masala, incinerated, shoe-leather-tough tandoori chicken or cartilageridden lamb, we're going to declare a moratorium on local Indian cuisine.

With all the terrifically trendy places on Toronto 's dining out circuit, ironically it's a strip mall in Mississauga that veers the closest to an authentic Indian meal, short of jetting to Jaipur yourself. Nirvana, a 6,500 sq. ft. dining room/banquet hall is worth the trek by taxi, train and an amigo's automobile. You might think you've arrived at a strip joint when you get there: its dreadfully unappealing, windowless facade looks more like a rear entrance to a rub 'n' tug. And a tacky neon "open" sign screams 7 Eleven. But you'd be making a big mistake if you judge this book by its cover.

Once inside, you're instantly intoxicated by a seductive, smoky aroma from a tandoor oven, cooking up dishes from an extensive menu that explores uncharted territory -- at least in these parts. And don't insult this kitchen by inquiring about an all-you-can-eat buffet, either. Every dish is made a la minute, a sure sign of freshness evident early on from house-made tamarind and coriander-perfumed yogurt dips, perfectly paired with complimentary cigar-shaped papadam. A second basket disappears in a flash.

But even these pale next to some stunning flattened papadam ($2.50). Topped with a superbly fragrant dice of tomato, onion and coriander detonated with chat masala spices, this dish turns run-of-the-mill chips 'n' salsa into a sedate soda cracker. Not surprising, then, Nirvana's five-cook kitchen lifts us straight into a spicy stratosphere. That's right, count 'em, five chefs brought over from India by Nirvana co-owner Amardeep Singh, whose family has been running hotels and restaurants in India for nearly 70 years.

Two chefs are charged with handling curries and rice dishes; two others man the tandoor

oven while one directs baked goods and desserts. But it's the tandoori items’ stellar smokiness and unheard of tenderness that'll really blow you away. Take, for example, the machli jalpari, a whole spice-marinated pomfret ($22.95). Its moistness wows, but its deeply smoky, heat-laced kick gives this otherwise mild whitefish a new flavour dimension. Equally fantastic is a murg kali mirch ($12.95), miraculously-moist chicken cubes power-packed with a black-pepper marinade before being bang-on barbecued.

If you had just one last meal on earth, order the jhinga hariali. Hauntingly aromatic and tender, these tiger prawns ($20.95), in an herb cloak of fresh mint and coriander, come sizzling on a cast-iron server. Completing the fab four are Guinness Book-sized button mushrooms ($12.95) fed oodles of flavour from a tangy, forcefully spiced yogurt marinade. Nirvana, indeed.

By contrast, the kitchen's curried and sauced oeuvres are more what we've come to expect when going Indian. That's not to say that this more earthbound fare is any less impressive. Murg parwana ($16.95) chunks of chicken are bathed in thick, spicedup gravy. Likewise, a lively sauce envelops rogan josh ($12.95), exquisitely soft chunks of long-simmered lamb. And a coconut-kissed Goan fish curry ($17.95) is thick and skillfully seasoned, its seafood admirably tender and tasty. It's all good -- even if we've seen it all before.

What we haven't seen before is a biryani ($14.95) whose presentation is as impressive as

its nuggets of moist, tender and cartilage-free lamb hidden in artfully al dente basmati.

Ask for this dish by name, gosht dum biryani. It's a treat just to watch the server set down a pastry-topped pot before skillfully peeling off its doughy lid to release an aromatic vapor.

No surprise, the tandoor maestros are also wizards at breads. Naan ($2.50) is all it should

be, smoky and soft, perfect for mopping up some super sauces. Topped with bits of fragrant green onion ($3.50) or chopped garlic ($3.50), however, basic naan gets flavour fever. And a griddle-cooked roomali roti ($4.50), a house signature, might be the answer to the Indian croissant. Folded into pillow-soft bundles, it cuts like warm butter.

Whomever's on the deep fryer gets our vote for Employee of the Month for turning out surprisingly delicious khat mith gobhi ($6.95). These greaseless sweet 'n' sour cauliflower fritters as fine as tempura. In fact, just about everything Nirvana touches turns to gastronomic gold, even its large selection of non-alcoholic beverages. They include a kesari thandai ($3.95), irresistibly sweet frappé of nuts, melon seeds and black pepper; a ginger-scented kashmiri kahva ($2.95) tea with an unexpected crunch from blanched almonds; and a mango lassi ($3.95), a tangy, milkshake-like version that could serve as a meal's end sweet.

Which might be necessary, since desserts, curiously, hew to the tried-and-true. Billed as rice pudding, Punjabi kheer ($6.95) is more like a warm rice soup, with a smoothness and nutty richness you'll adore. Drizzled in rosewater, ice cream-like mango kulfi ($6.95) may look pretty darn awful on a plate, but tastes utterly divine -- an ideal palate cleanser after such spice-laden fare.

With so much time and effort put into getting such an accomplished and committed kitchen in place, we're left wondering why décor errs so – even if nicer than the norm. Thankfully, a showcased tandoor provides a nice focal point, providing a platform for some dining-room drama, which helps to take your eyes off the dusty-rose-coloured sponge accents and brass accents. Surprisingly, the space still seduces with comfort; you could spend a week sitting on one of these cushioned chairs. And Nirvana's gracious, servant-like waiters will charm and cater to your every whim.

Bottom line: the kind of edible exotica being served by this practically peerless kitchen quintet has thankfully raised the bar on Toronto 's hidebound Indian cuisine. Even if you need to travel to the corner of Hurontario Street and No Man's Land, be thankful you don't have to hop on a plane to savour Nirvana.