EATING OUT - Simon Wilkinson - Advertiser

It was 1980, the year Azaria disappeared, John Lennon was shot and Split Enz topped the charts. Jasbeer and Anant Singh Sandhu had migrated to Adelaide from Malaysia with their four children two years earlier, and wanted to build a family business. She was a fantastic cook, family and friends insisted. Why not start a restaurant?

The couple decided to open in the city and found a Chinese restaurant whose owners wanted to move on. They even liked the name. Jasmin.

So begins the story of one of Adelaide's most celebrated dining institutions – the family operation with the borrowed name that a few weeks ago marked its 25th year in business.

Where else could we go then for a review for this special Indian edition of Food & Wine?

Any business that has prospered for so long must have a few key bases covered. Consistency is the first and this latest meal at the Jasmin was at least the equal of others over the years.

While there were a couple of pleasant surprises along the way, many of the dishes on the Jasmin menu are familiar enough – vindaloo, butter chicken, korma. The Jasmin simply does them better than almost anywhere else in town, with first-rate ingredients, spicing that sparkles and nuances that bring new excitement to something familiar.

Take that poor man's dish, dhal, most often served elsewhere as an anonymous mush. Here, the lentils still hold their shape and all the flavours sing, particularly a zing of fresh ginger.

The key to this consistency goes back to the family connection. Where else, after 25 years, would you find the same chef (Mrs Singh, as she is universally known, now 74), and be greeted by the same velvet-voiced charmer (son Amrik). Daughter Sheila is also in the business and Jasbeer travels every year to a spice mill in Singapore to watch as the restaurant's special blends are put together. That way, there are no corners cut or unwanted additions, he says.

Like its owners, the Jasmin is elegant and refined. Down a steep flight of stairs on Hindmarsh Square, the dining room is furnished in dark timbers, the lighting restrained and the only real colour comes from large, abstract Tom Gleghorn landscapes. The tables are set with proper napery and the chairs remain comfortable for a prolonged sitting. Closet claustrophobes might find the ceiling low. We covered all bases with a mixed-platter entree and garfish from the specials. The only disappointment was a beer, nowhere near cold enough.

The mixed plate had one sample of each of the five listed starters, with the high points being the best samosa I've eaten, its pastry crust crispy and crunchy, without a hint of oiliness, and the meaty filling wonderfully aromatic. A skewer of fish cubes and a moist potato patty were also delicious.

Two garfish, heads and skin removed, but still on the bone, curled around a plate which also held a small dish of pale-coloured eggplant chutney. The fish had an attractive golden tan after being rubbed with a mild curry powder and pan-fried. Simple, fresh flavours were lifted by the chutney, which had a coconuty richness and deceptive, lingering heat.

Also from the specials, but one of Mrs Singh's most popular creations, was the Punjabi lamb tandoori. Five french cutlets propped up against each other, their exposed bones pointing skywards, the meat with a deep red-brown coating from its yoghurt-based marinade. It smelled heavenly and tasted better, with the sweetness of the meat, aromatic spices and mild, singed smokiness all in harmony. Obviously, these chops had been subjected to some ferocious heat but the flesh, while no longer pink as I normally like it, was tender.

A chunky fillet of dense, white fish came in a dark, tangy sauce of considerable, but not overpowering, heat. Long strips of squidgy eggplant sat to the side and were rich and more-ish.

But the biggest surprise of the night, and perhaps the favourite dish, was an accompaniment of potato chunks, cooked long and slow in a masala sauce based on shreds of dried fish, and finished with slowly roasted curry leaves. The fish was subtly flavoured and slightly chewy, much closer to the salted cod of Italian cooking than the usually potent dried fish of the Asian kitchen. There also was lemon grass, ginger and yet another spice blend in there. Hell, it was good, and dangerously filling for something meant to be a side dish. We finished with a slice of syrupy orange cake, made by Mrs Singh's best friend, Zephi Kathreptis, herself a legend. Also kulfi, the frozen dessert with mealy texture and perfumed taste, which I've never really liked.

If all that's not enough to get you along to Jasmin, there's also the prospect of doing damage to what has been built into a serious wine collection. It starts with four champagnes (as well as local sparkling), and continues through a varied list of 40 whites and more than 60 reds, all listed with vintages. Then there's a cellar selection of nearly 40 labels of advancing years, including three Granges. Another advantage of being around for 25 years.

Simon Wilkinson
Advertiser

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