A jewel in Glasthule

Superb Indian food, comfortable surroundings and great service. The long-established Rasam is still getting it right, writes CATHERINE CLEARY

SOMETIMES I wonder if the food police should have a special branch. Undercover inspectors could go around impounding food that is simply wrong. I spotted a prime suspect in a supermarket cafe the other day. The chicken tikka panini. A Frankenstein’s monster of warped “Indalian” origin, it sat under glass like an open car bonnet spewing dayglo gloop topped with orange cheddar.

The person who dreamt that one up could be given a spell of community service in the kitchen of Rasam in Glasthule in south Dublin for an education in Indian food.

I have loved this restaurant since it opened seven years ago. It’s been a few years since I last ate there. So I brought a straight-talking friend who had never visited to bring a new eye to the place.

The restaurant is over the Eagle’s House pub and many of its customers are the retired and semi-retired residents of this genteel seaside suburb. On a sunny Sunday evening the regulars are here and spicy smells waft around. The place is decorated in chocolate browns and burnt oranges with beaten silver wall hangings and floor pieces. The solid tables are well-spaced and larger than your average table for two. Extra large tables with silk cushions on benches look like good party spots.

We settle ourselves into comfortable chairs and try not to spoil it by stuffing ourselves with poppadoms. Our friendship dates back to student bedsit days when we shared my bolognese variations, grappled with the elasticity of demand theory, and back-combed our perms.

The dangerous poppadoms come in a silver tankard with three dip options, a yummy sunny mango, a spicy tomato chutney, and a deeply tasty tamarind dip the colour of HP Sauce. My friend goes for duck spring rolls (€10.50) to start and the signature dish, Lal Maas (€18.95), a slow-cooked lamb, for main course. I order the Dahi Ke Kahab (€7.95), patties of deep-fried yoghurt, to start, and the fish stew (€19.95) for main. We get a portion each of Peshawari naan bread (€2.95) and Pulao rice (€3.50). Our waiter recommends a portion of spinach (€5.50) to round it off.

We also order a 50cl bottle-for-two, a Guiliana Pinot Grigio (€16). The service is so good here the straight-

talking friend starts to suspect we’ve been rumbled. Possibly. But I suspect everyone gets the honoured guest treatment. One lovely young waiter addresses us as “m’ladies”.

My starter arrives, two yoghurt patties artfully arranged on a warm white plate with dabs of sweet sauce. They have a deep yellow crust of gram flour that bursts to reveal soft yoghurt spiced with cardamom. Deep-fried yoghurt sounds odd but it’s warm and delicious, with a conveyor belt of flavours. The friend’s duck rolls are arranged Jenga-style on an equally beautiful plate with a mouthwatering syrupy-bitter kumquat on the side. They are delicious.

The main courses arrive in hot bowls and everything is placed in the middle of the table. My friend’s lamb is pronounced gorgeous, spicy without the heat overwhelming the meat. My fish stew has large chunks of delicate pink salmon in a coconut and mango sauce. The flavours are so note-perfect I reckon someone cooked and tasted many versions of this before it went on the menu. The naan has delicious dark brown flecks of toasted coconut pocketed inside with plump raisins, and the rice is nutty and nice.

Desserts are no let down. A wobbly upturned cup of mango mousse (€6.50) has two plump raspberries on the plate alongside it and is scrumptious. My friend’s Indian fudge ice cream (€6.95) is extraordinary. Less sweet than the description makes it sound, it comes with a little cup containing what look like tiny frog spawn floating in milk. I check the menu online later and these are, apparently, rose-scented basil seeds. They are poured over the ice cream. The dish is different to anything either of us have ever tasted.

Home-made teas of saffron and lemon (€3.25) for me and ginger and lemon (€2.75) come in large white teapots big enough for two to share. A peep inside my pot shows a knob of lemon end and some saffron strands floating in the fantastic, bright yellow concoction.

As I drop m’lady friend home to the northside she voices her one problem with the restaurant. Unfortunately, it’s not something they can fix with a menu tweak. “It’s too far away,” she says.

Dinner for two with wine and home-made teas came to €104.75. There’s an early-bird menu of two courses for €19.95 with teas and coffee.