Previous SlideNext Slide

Given that Abhi’s will enter its 35th year in July, it’s a good time to revisit one of Sydney’s oldest living Indian restaurants, before it gets much older.

It’s hard to imagine the number of family groups and couples who have sat in this silver-walled dining room, squabbling over the last of the crunchy palak patta chaat, lamb khorma and chicken makhni. (The latter is better known as butter chicken, and is so popular, they call it their “bread and butter” chicken.)

“What’s new on the menu?” I ask one of the can-do waitstaff, who looks flummoxed for a minute. Then, she points to the separate specials list. “That’s where the new things are,” she says.

In truth, I’m here for the old things. Owner and founding chef Kumar Mahadevan was the first to put dosa on the menu in Sydney, and it’s still, rightfully, a signature.

The masala dosa ($19/$22) is a crisp cylinder of fragrant, fermented lentil and rice, the crepe rolled around a soft, savoury potato filling. Tear it in your hands and dip it into a tiny bucket of soupy lentil sambar or one of two bright-tasting chutneys, and all is well with the world.

‘It’s sacrilege to cut a naan with a knife,’ says Kumar Mahadevan.

It’s an old-school kitchen, with its own spice-grinder and huge tandoor oven that still burns charcoal, not converted to gas. Ranjan Choudrey has been the head chef for the past 25 years and is there now, expertly threading marinated chicken onto long skewers, ready for the oven.

From the specials list, karuvepillai prawns ($21) are snacky fun, the king prawns deep-fried only until the tapioca and rice flour coating is crisp, a tumble of crunchy curry leaves on top. Great with a Kingfisher beer ($10).

What you won’t get at Abhi’s are too many surprises. This is dining carefully calibrated to please, not aiming for Instagram status. Plating is sometimes contemporary, sometimes classic, never silly. Spicing is mellow and balanced rather than coarse. Everything is done properly.

Four big, meaty lamb chops ($42) are roasted in the tandoor, turning their Hariyali (green) masala of coriander leaves, pureed spinach and roasted gram flour into something deliciously smoky and pasty.

Indian breads are a strength, with eight different naans and parathas. My mix of plain and garlic naan ($11.60) comes in handy – and I do mean “handy”. “It’s sacrilege to cut a naan with a knife,” says Mahadevan. “And putting butter chicken on top of a naan to eat with a knife and fork is a big no-no.”

Chicken Hyderabadi biryani ($25.80) is comfort food – simple but complex – with its chicken, tomato, onion, green chilli, ginger, yoghurt and garam masala sealed and cooked with the rice, Hyderabad style.

Dal makhni ($18.80) is thick, dark and richly creamy, the black lentils cooked with tomatoes and fenugreek leaves. It could sustain life for years.

Wines are hugely good value, with a spicy, fruit-driven Paringa Estate Coronella pinot noir from the Mornington Peninsula costing $13 a glass and $58 a bottle.

Those ubiquitous poached milk dumplings, gulab jamun ($14.80), are light and floral, not heavy with syrup, and adorned with pretty heart’s ease flowers.

A restaurant with a menu that has been more or less the same for more than 30 years is either a dead restaurant that repeats its mistakes or one that had a lot of things right in the first place, which it continually refines.

Abhi’s is the latter, and Kumar Mahadevan, his wife Suba, and sons Abhi and Aki, are staging three nights of special birthday banquets on July 16, 17 and 18 ($87pp, details on the website) to celebrate.

We may have lost fellow Indian pioneer Dakhni in Glebe, the brilliant Oh! Calcutta!, the contemporary Subcontinental and, more recently, Raja in King’s Cross; even its own brother, the ambitious one-hatted Aki’s at Finger Wharf.

But we still have Abhi’s, formed by family pride, hard work and a pioneering spirit, and built to last.