For a period of nearly six months in 2012, I eliminated meat from my diet.
It was neither a political statement nor a health-related decision; I simply wondered if I could do it.
Like many people in the Western world, I was raised on a predictable meal formula of meat, starch, and vegetables. Eat, digest, repeat. Somehow, it came to be that meat was the star of most dinners and a significant number of lunches too, with other food groups playing a supporting role.
What's for dinner? Pork chops, with sautéed cabbage and roast potatoes. Grilled flank steak, with pommes frites and arugula salad.
Frankly, I was tired of the convention and needed a break in order to reinvigorate my appreciation for food of all varieties.
Surely a vine-ripened Campari tomato, at the apex of the summer growing season, is a food so perfect that it deserves to be appreciated on its own terms and not relegated to the status of loyal sidekick, like a vegetable Moneypenny to meat's venerated Bond.
My forbearance wasn't terribly difficult, to be honest, and while I have since resumed my consumption of meat (and everything else that has even a tenuous grasp on edibility), I nevertheless make a concerted effort to leave it out of a meal when it feels extraneous or to deny it a leading role when other elements do a better job.
I believe that this new approach to eating has been made possible, in large part, because of the extraordinary mastery of non-meat-containing dishes found in Indian cuisine. Those who read these pages regularly know that I adore Indian food and relish any opportunity to consume it here on the North Shore, where we have some truly outstanding Indian restaurants that produce authentic and memorable regional dishes.
A recent visit to Indian Fusion reminded me that, if pressed, I could join the vegetarian camp with the knowledge that great Indian vegetable dishes could still provide me with intense flavours and satisfying meals.
My Indian Fusion meal, for which I was joined by my wife DJ, a longtime vegetarian of unflappable resolve who also loves Indian food, was comprised entirely of meat-free dishes (I won't go so far as to describe them as vegetarian because a couple of dishes contained dairy, which doesn't fit with all definitions of vegetarianism).
Indian Fusion occupies a small, narrow space that has been thoughtfully appointed with low, moody lighting and colourful furniture. The room offers up enticing scents of roasted spices and freshly baked flat breads, immediately whetting the appetite.
Our meal began with appetizers of Onion Bhajia, styled here as fragrant onion rings (versus the more traditional preparation of stacks of shredded onion) and vegetable pakora, bite-sized fritters of vegetables in spicy chickpea batter. Both dishes, though deep fried, were light and crispy and married nicely with two dipping sauces, Imli Ki (a smooth and tart chutney of tamarind, sugar and spices) and Pudina Ki (a highly aromatic puree of mint and cilantro leaves, garlic, lime, and spices).
I have always found that Indian fritters make great snacks to accompany drinks and was therefore pleased to learn that Indian Fusion offers a selection of popular beers from the subcontinent, including Kingfisher and Raj, to accompany its appetizers.
Next up was a large serving of Dal Makhani, which for me is the uncontestable king of all lentil dishes.
Makhani is a traditionally Punjabi lentil preparation featuring whole black lentils, red kidney beans, and tomatoes flavoured with ginger, garlic, a host of spices and finished with butter and cream for richness. Fusion's version was silky and elegant, more the consistency of a thick soup than a lentil stew, making it a perfect topping for perfumed, long-grain basmati rice.
For mains, we shared an order of Aloo Gobi, a hearty curry of potatoes and cauliflower, and a dish of Malai Kofta, a startlingly rich and exceedingly tasty cashew-based curry with homemade cheese dumplings (or Kofta).
I requested the Malai Kofta to be prepared "hot" on the spiciness scale and was glad I did as the prickly, chili heat helped to cut through the naturally luxuriant, buttery quality of the cashews and the dense, dairy indulgence of the cheese.
The Kofta were remarkably tasty, but DJ and I could only manage to eat one each due to their overwhelming richness. By contrast, the Aloo Gobi revealed a pleasing tomato acidity and fresh cilantro flavour.
We mopped up the thick, spicy sauces on all of the dishes with fresh-from-the-tandoor naan bread, piping hot and buttered. In keeping with the celebration of all things veggie, we also tried a spinach-stuffed naan, a flatbread densely packed with fresh, subtly seasoned spices.
Our meal of two appetizers, three curries, spinach and regular naan was $51 before gratuity.
Indian Fusion is located at 2045 Lonsdale Ave. indianfusiononline.com
Chris Dagenais served as a manager for several restaurants downtown and on the North Shore. Contact: [email protected].
