Thali, Glasgow - Restaurants in Glasgow | s1play.com

Rich pickings

Review published on 19/01/2009 © Sunday Herald

I have often criticised the Glasgow curry-house scene, but there are recent signs that the city is developing a more exciting tier of Indian eateries offering an alternative to the generic proposition.

Dakhin, in the Merchant City, dared to offer something better with its fairly authentic south Indian menu. The postage stamp takeaway, Banana Leaf, in the West End, lent further momentum to the "dosa" revolution.

Now Thali, run by an enterprising Sikh family, opens up another front entirely. The concept is totally traditional for India, but seems refreshing in Glasgow. The eponymous thali refers to India's classic formula meal, composed of bread, rice and little bowls of curry or "katoris", all served on a large steel tray - or, in the tradition of south India, on a banana leaf. It's only surprising, considering the success of thali-centric chains like Masala Zone in London, that this breakthrough has taken so long. Obviously, thalis are a formula ripe for commercialisation in the UK.

The eating-out public falls more and more in love every day with any form of eating that is miniaturised and maximises choice, hence the spate of restaurants of all ethnic makeups rapidly restructuring their offer to feature tapas-sized portions. The line-up at Thali is blissfully simple for the indecisive and those who struggle when composing an Indian meal. Paper table mats double up as educational handouts, with a diagram explaining the layout and composition of the standard thali tray. You select a basic thali (rice, nan, salad, raita or dhal) then choose two to four katoris. The educational theme continues with little screens on the walls of velvety booths that flash up pictures of spices and aromatics, with both Indian and English names and a thoughtful description of their organoleptic qualities.

As you sit down, you are served a glass of nimbu pani, homemade, non-fizzy lemonade. That seemed to reflect the management's desire to surpass expectations and offer you more than you thought you might get. If you aren't still in shock at your bank (im)balance, consider ordering Bollinger champagne here because Thali charges the same as you would pay in a shop. Trying to be poor but healthy, we chose a jug of mango lassi instead. It turned out to be a good one - heavy on the Alphonso mango pulp but not too sweet.

There are little tiffin-style finger foods to eat before the thalis if you want, the sort of snacks you'd see on roadside stalls in India. Ours were excellent. Tiny crisp, dry puris which you fill with boiled potato, tamarind dressing and chilli sauce (gol guppa), mashed potato rissoles with gloriously softened onions topped with piquant chickpea garnish (aloo tikki chana) and exemplary spinach, cashew and potato patties (hara hara kebab). The thalis proper were pretty good, too.

The rice was natural and fragrant with cloves, innocent of lurid orange colouring, the bread crisp and light, the salad generous with cherry tomatoes. A basic dhal fitted the bill. The other katoris we selected had distinctive personalities. The prawns in the mild, coconut-milky Malabar curry actually tasted like prawns. Minced lamb and peas made Scottish mince seem pedestrian and dull. Chunks of lamb in a sauce thick with spinach had the depth of flavour of mutton, and fell apart obligingly.

The vegetarian line-up was no less even: a sweet, fresh pumpkin curry; sautéed okra dressed in invigoratingly sour dried mango powder (amchoor); and voluptuous caramelised aubergine, sharpened up with tamarind. The only element lacking here is a home-made pickle. Perhaps Thali might think of adding one in.

I didn't like the look of my pistachio kulfi but it surprised me. It looked like a milky choc ice but tasted of ground nuts and rose water. I didn't go for the presentation of my phirni, a milky dessert of ground rice flavoured with saffron and served alongside a puddle of mango puree and some slices of fat mango cheek and glacé cherries. They could dump the latter. The phirni itself, though, was just as it should be. Once more, there was a generosity about it; first-rate saffron filaments had been used, colouring and flavouring the milky body unevenly and making each mouthful different and interesting.

Nice place, nice people, nice food and potentially not too expensive either.