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.

Blowfish fin Sake, and other curiosities

Have you ever eaten a blowfish? They're highly poisonous and if cooked incorrectly can cause all number of exciting symptoms: intoxication, light-headedness, numbness of the lips, dizziness and deadening of the tongue to name but a few.

Extreme eaters seek out blowfish in the hope of experiencing some of these strange sensations. In severe cases, eating a dodgy blowfish can result in death, as the poison can paralyze your diaphragm muscles, leading to suffocation. It can also cause comas that last several days where you remain semi-conscious.

I'm all for new experiences and pushing the envelope, but have to admit to being more than a little nervous about sipping on the blowfish fin Sake I was offered last Thursday at a delightfully curious Sake tasting in the basement of Chisou, a sushi restaurant in Oxford Circus.

The cup was being passed round and it would have been rude to refuse, so I took a deep breath and hoped for the best. The Sake was served warm and had a potent nose of mushroom, truffle, forest floor, cigar smoke, earth, peat and charcoal. It tasted, unsurprisingly, of fish, but after a few seconds the fishiness subsided, clearing the way for the forest floor aromas to reappear. Potent, pungent and intense, a couple of sips told me all I needed to know. After a minute I hadn't keeled over, which I took as a good sign. Not a numb lip in sight.

The event aimed to showcase a series of Sakes from Okayama, a city in the Chugoku region of Japan. Three producers had flown in, and were showing four Sakes each. I'm a Sake novice, but enjoyed getting stuck into the tasting, applying my wine knowledge wherever I could.

We were asked to analyse the aroma, flavour and balance, much like you would a wine. One of the producers tells me (via his translator) that in order to make a quality Sake you need three things: good rice, good water and a good brewing technique.

Before it's fermented, the rice is polished to remove the protein and oils, leaving the starch behind. The quality of the Sake depends on how polished the rice is. A grain can be polished up to 30% of its original size, and the more polished the grains, the more refined the Sake.

After trying a few, I realise it's impossible to apply wine speak to Sake. The vocabulary is much narrower. Sake styles are described simply as being fruity, dry, or sweet rather than through a ream of descriptors.

The latest trend in Japan is for fruit-flavoured Sake liquors made with peach, pear and plum. They were all pleasant enough, but the low alcohol and pulpy texture made them more like an Innocent Smoothy than a Sake. My favourite was the Gyutto Tesgibori Yuzu Shu, made from hand-squeezed yuzu juice, a small citrus fruit like a sour mandarin. Mouth-puckering, zingy and fresh, the lemony flavour danced around my mouth and brought it to life. I wanted to put the bottle up my jumper and run out the door it was so delicious.

I was excited to see a pink Sake in the line-up that would make Hello Kitty proud. At 13.5% abv, it had more of a kick than the peach, pear and plum, but it looked like milkshake and tasted like alcoholic strawberry Yop. A drink for naughty schoolgirls. There were plenty of serious Sakes on show, but they took our tasting sheets away at the end for feedback, so it's hard to remember what they tasted like. The Bizenmaboroshi was a highlight. It won a trophy at the IWSC last year, and had a delicate, sweet nose and full, rounded palate.

Our entertainment for the evening came in the form of Yoko Hallelujah, a diminutive Japanese Beatles fanatic armed with a jewel-encrusted acoustic guitar. She belted out fab four classics with brio, as we slurped our way round the remainder of the Sakes.