Whisky and Indian food matching at Quilon

I seem to have written a lot on the subject of Indian food and drink pairing of late. A notoriously hard cuisine to match with wine and sprits, earlier this year I attended a dinner at Moti Mahal in Holborn matching Indian food with saké, which worked strangely well.

More recently, I returned to the restaurant to see how Indian wines fared with their native cuisine, and was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the wines made from international varieties coming out of Grover Vineyards, in the Nandi Hills near Bangalore.

For the hat-trick, this month I attended a dinner at the Michelin-starred Quilon in St James's, to see whether whisky and Indian cuisine make good bedfellows. I don't pretend to be whisky fan – I can appreciate its complex array of aromas, but find the burn on the palate hard to swallow. The evening was hosted by self-confessed whisky nut Dominic Roskrow, who has recently published a 300-page tome on the subject: The World's Best Whiskies (£30). Quilon, which specialises in south west coastal Indian cuisine, has a 50-strong whisky list, so served as the ideal venue to put the pairings to the test.

The unassuming Roskrow is keen to divorce himself from any snobbery associated with whisky, which he views as 'a farmers drink' made in poor areas for people to celebrate and commiserate with. Roskrow touched on the need for whisky brands to reach out and communicate with the new generation of writers and bloggers coming through.

After his impassioned speech, mouthes were parched, and we were all keen to get our heads in a glass. First up we tried an Indian whisky: Amrut Double Cask, which had a young, intoxicating nose of barley, peat, cedar and spice - almost like Old Spice aftershave. The palate was smooth and creamy, with notes of vanilla and an aniseed finish. Next we imbibed a 1982 Karuizawa (pictured) from Japan, weighing in at a eye-watering 56% abv. The nose had lovely aromas of sea salt caramel, held up by an intensely peaty backbone. The charred, smokey notes made it taste like a liquid bonfire.

Third in line was my personal favourite: Henry McKenna Single Barrel Bourbon – by far the smoothest of the quartet. An attractive deep amber colour, it smelt like a sweet Oloroso, full of vanilla, caramel and toffee notes, along with walnut, varnish and maple. The American oak leant it an approachable banoffee pie character. Smooth, round and long, it was the only whisky I didn't add water to. Finally, we were presented with a serious Scotch: Glenkeir Macallan 17 Year Old Cask Strength, which showed great elegance, with citrus and orange peel aromas, along with the customary peat, wood and spice.

But how did these alcoholic giants fare with the delicate Indian food? They take their spices so seriously at Quilon they have three full-time chefs working soley on sourcing them, and import more spices than any other London restaurant. Head chef Sriram Aylur is a purist, known for championing subtle flavours and not using any butter of cream in his dishes – something I was disappointed to hear, as I'm into rich, heart-curdling food.

The food may have been lacking in fat, but it was far from lacking in flavour. It's easy for a chef to slather his dishes in butter for instant customer gratification, but it takes real skill to create big flavours from subtle ingredients. Standout dishes included exquisitely moist, soft and juciy Dakshini pepper chicken, a powdery soya bean chop with plum sauce, Okra Pachadi – fried okras mixed with yoghurt, ground coconut and cumin seeds (I ate the entire bowl intended for four), and curious pepper ice cream, which perfectly navigated the playful divide between sweet and savoury.

I can't come to any prolific conclusions about the suitability of whisky as a drink pairing for Indian food, as I switched to wine as soon as the food arrived. But perhaps that says it all: some drinks are best enjoyed on their own, and the alcoholic burn from whisky wouldn't work with dishes with any degree of spice in them. But the fun is in the experimentation, and I'm happy to be proved wrong.

The next whisky dinner hosted by Dominic Roskrow at Quilon takes place on 1 February 2011. Tickets are priced at £59.50 per person. To book, call Quilon reservations on: 020 7821 1899.

Grover wine dinner at Moti Mahal

'It's time Brits drank Indian food with Indian wine, instead of a beer named after a snake', begins Amber Vaidya, brand ambassador for Indian winery Grover Vineyards, in an impassioned speech at gourmet Indian restaurant Moti Mahal in Holborn.

He'd gathered a group of journalists to celebrate Grover's entry to the UK, which was signed and sealed this summer through an exclusive partnership with Bibendum, who've taken on three wines in the Grover range: the Sauvignon Blanc, Cabernet Shiraz and La Reserve, voted best new world red last year by Steven Spurrier in his Decanter column.

Situated in the Nandi Hills, 40km from Bangalore, Grover Vineyards was founded in 1988 by defense equipment tycoon Kanwal Grover after seven years of research into the best grape growing areas in India. The 410-acre estate is planted with international varieties: Cabernet Sauvignon, Shiraz, Viognier, Sauvignon Blanc and Chenin Blanc.

Buffered by the mountains, the vines are protected from monsoon winds and enjoy a long growing season, while the limestone rich soils imbue the wines with a mineral core. Keen to produce terroir-driven wines in the French style, Grover enlisted the help of Bordeaux-based super consultant Michel Rolland, who counts Angélus, Lascomes, Léoville Poyferré, Robert Mondavi and Casa Lapostolle among his high profile clients. Winemaking methods therefore, are distinctly French – La Reserve is hand picked and spends six months in French oak.

But what of the food? Moti Mahal's head chef Anirudh Arora has created a menu inspired by his childhood travels along the Grand Trunk Road, a 2500km stretch built in the 16th century that navigates the breadth of the country, pumping life through it. The five course menu begins with a Punjab dish: masala paneer with tomatoes and bell peppers, followed by succulent monkfish simmered in a tamarind, ripe tomato and ginger sauce – a dish made popular in Lahore, paired with the grassy, fresh, grapefruit-driven 2009 Sauvignon Blanc.

Next up is the culinary highlight of the night: butterflied leg of lamb seasoned with cinnamon and green chillies. The small, juicy morsels of lamb are the softest I've ever eaten - almost like lamb clouds, with an etherial tenderness, matched with the young, fruit forward, spicy 2009 Cabernet Sauvignon Shiraz. The final main is chicken tossed in basmati rice, crushed fennel and saffron from the food capital of India – Lucknow, paired with the jewel in Grover's crown; La Reserve 2009.

Closed on first sniff, the wine soon opens up to reveal a bouquet of ripe red and black fruits, with hints of spice. On the palate it shows black currant, mocha, chocolate, vanilla and licorice, which fuse together into a long, pleasing finish. The feast is rounded off with an exquisite bread pudding made in reduced saffron milk served with cardamom ice cream. Having had my first sip of Indian wine at the London International Wine Fair this year, I was excited by the wines on show at the dinner. Displaying elegance, character, and a sense of place, they suggest a promising future for Indian wine. The Cobra days are over...

Sake and indian food matching at Moti Mahal

When an invite pinged into my inbox asking me to a dinner matching Indian food with saké, I rsvpd immediately, curious about what would be in store.

It sounded radical, audacious even – I loved the idea. Dinner was served at Moti Mahal in Holborn, a plush Indian restaurant that's had the Kelly Hoppen treatment - tasteful beige and taupe abound. Head chef Anirudh Arora has created a menu inspired by his childhood travels along the Grand Trunk Road, a 2500km stretch built in the 16th century that navigates the breadth of the country, pumping life through it.

Six of his dishes were on show, each of which had been matched with an appropriate saké, which were chosen to compliment the dishes rather than vice versa. Matching wine with Indian food has always been problematic, with reds often proving too tannic, and whites completely overpowered by the strong spices. Perhaps saké would emerge the ultimate wine match?

On arrival we were offered a strong Sakétini served with a slither of cucumber. Taking our places at a long dining table in the basement, I found myself next to Anthony Rose of The Independent, who knows a thing or three about saké, so was in safe hands. To my left was Bob Tryer, the new(ish) wine columnist for The Sunday Times, and Pritesh Mody of Love Food Love Drink, who confessed he was nervous at having flagged up the 7p afternoon tea at The Langham to thousands of subscribers in his newsletter. 'The phones are going to be off the hook'.

The first dish was the most experimental, and my favourite of the evening: crisp fried pastry and chick peas with yoghurt, tamarind and mint chutney. A tea time tradition from the streets of Old Dehli, it was served in a mountainous pile, the yoghurt like melting snow on top, with pomegranate seeds glinting like rubies amongst the green. Sweet and savoury, hard and soft, it had such wonderfully diverse texture and flavour, as the best indian dishes do. But what of the saké match?

It was paired with Aki no Ta (Autumn Fields) saké from the Hideyoshi Brewery. Soft, fruity and refreshing, it had powerful notes of green apple on the palate which lightened the dish, while the chickpeas reduced the sweetness of the saké.

Next up were seared scallops with sesame seeds, coriander and tamarind on a bed of cumin peas paired with Fukurokuju Junmai – try saying that after a few sakés. A southern Indian speciality, the juicy scallops paired well with the salty saké. Notes of pear on the palate triggered the sesame in the dish, and the two played well together.

Another fish dish followed: jumbo prawns with pomegranate and saffron paired with a very special saké: Isake 19 from the Naniwa Brewery, which sells for £475 a bottle in Selfridges. The special saké required special glasses, so we swiftly moved from cups to Riedels.

The quality of a saké depends on the amount it's been polished, and Isake 19, as the name suggests, is polished down to 19% of its original size in a laborious, seven-day process. The result is a delicate saké with a Chablisian mineral core. The tasting note suggested hints of green chilli and wasabi on the palate, but I'm not convinced I found them.

For all its pomp and ceremony (it comes in a gold-topped bottle with a regal purple tassel), I was far more taken with the Dance of the Lotus Flower saké, in its fetching ice pink bottle that would make Hello Kitty weep with joy. Feminine and floral, it was paired with stewed venison and crunchy fried lotus flower – a typical Punjabi snack.

Flavour wise, the most interesting saké was saved until last. Impossible to get hold of the in the UK, the Akashi-tai Genmai Koshu, served in a round bottle, was a fascinating find. It was the fist time I'd tried and aged saké, and time had done strange and wonderful things to it.

A tawny brown colour, the nose was very Amontillado-like, with dried fruits, plums, figs, sultanas and Christmas cake all wafting out of the glass. Savoury on the palate, it retained that saké soy sauce saltiness and umami savoury notes, but there were also hints of nut and banana.

Discovering such an off key saké was exciting, showing me I'd only scratched the surface of the saké flavour spectrum. The evening proved an intriguing experiment, with most of the pairings working extremely well. In saké we seem to have found the perfect bedfellow for Indian food: there are no aggressive tannins getting in the way, and it manages to hold its own against the might of the spices, often giving the dishes additional lift and freshness. Japan needs to jump on this bandwagon and start targeting Indian restaurants, because the guys at Moti Mahal are seriously onto something.