We headed out to Newtown one cold and rainy night in search of some delicious spice-laden food to assist our bottle of wine in warming us up, because there's nothing like a good curry to make you sweaty and disgusting and satisfied (three adjectives for which I aim in all things in life). King Street is dominated by Thai places, while Indian places are few and far between (I think there are like a total of three Indian/Nepalese/Malaysian-Indian places on the whole street). We chose Kammadhenu using the very rigorous scientific process of basically walking into the first Indian restaurant we came across, because we are very lazy. The extremely purple interiors exuded the kind of slight scunginess usually associated with cheap deliciousness and questionable service, both of which we received in plenty.
The waiter brought us wine glasses while I mentally gave praise to Dionysus that we brought our own wine instead of having to resort to their wine selection, which consisted solely of that awful one with the picture of birds on it that you can get for about $6 at any liquor store. I gulped back my first glass as I gazed in despair at the menu - so many delicious-sounding things! I look helplessly first at Jeremy, then at the super religious cow on the front of the menu, hoping that one of them will offer me some spiritual salvation. Or, you know, just help choosing what to eat, which is arguably more important. My stomach gurgled as the wine splashed in, and it sounded like "pooooorrrrrtttttteeeerrrrrttttttooooooo....." - the belly has spoken, so potato it is.
The waiter brought us wine glasses while I mentally gave praise to Dionysus that we brought our own wine instead of having to resort to their wine selection, which consisted solely of that awful one with the picture of birds on it that you can get for about $6 at any liquor store. I gulped back my first glass as I gazed in despair at the menu - so many delicious-sounding things! I look helplessly first at Jeremy, then at the super religious cow on the front of the menu, hoping that one of them will offer me some spiritual salvation. Or, you know, just help choosing what to eat, which is arguably more important. My stomach gurgled as the wine splashed in, and it sounded like "pooooorrrrrtttttteeeerrrrrttttttooooooo....." - the belly has spoken, so potato it is.
Wow this thing was long. Like longer-than-Jeremy's-hairy-forearm-in-the-background long. I'd filled up with more wine in order to try and stave off my hunger (it didn't work, pretty sure my stomach lining had started dissolving by then). Thankfully, this delicious tube of soft soft lightly spiced potato wrapped in a paper-thin crepe arrived to save my gastric mucosa from dying a sad, lonely and wine-soaked death (much like the one which I will likely one day succumb to). All the best things in life somehow incorporate carbs and sauce, so carbs wrapped in carbs dipped in chutney ranked pretty highly in my list of "good things that happened to me today". This dosa was big enough to be a light meal for one, and I'll definitely be back for more next time I get a bit peckish while wandering around Newtown. Together, we polished this off in about 1.7 seconds.
Average. Don't bother.
This dish is pretty much why multiculturalism is awesome - great things happen when one culture puts their own spin on food from a different culture. A weird delicious hybrid creature with aspects from both, yet tasting like something unique gets created. Such is the oddness of the chimera that is Manchurian chicken. I'm not the biggest fan of sweet and sour, especially the way it's done outside of China (i.e. in order to accomodate for the weird-ass tastebuds of white people). However, the addition of spices and a more curry-ish texture, while cutting down on the sweetness makes this dish awesome. This was a pretty decent take on the Manchurian - the chicken was nice and vaguely crispy outside, and the sauce was very flavoursome. Jeremy's mind was blown by the existence of Indian-Chinese food. Or maybe he's just really easily impressed while drunk.
Overall, food not too bad for the price, service as average as what you'd expect, and we managed to get pretty drunk and may or may not have gotten sidetracked on our way home and had several more drinks at a pub and severely regretted it the next day. Next time, I may or may not just get 3 dosas instead.
Seriously though, eat a dosa.
Kammadhenu Newtown
171 King Street, Newtown
(02) 9550 2611
Overall, food not too bad for the price, service as average as what you'd expect, and we managed to get pretty drunk and may or may not have gotten sidetracked on our way home and had several more drinks at a pub and severely regretted it the next day. Next time, I may or may not just get 3 dosas instead.
Seriously though, eat a dosa.
Kammadhenu Newtown
171 King Street, Newtown
(02) 9550 2611
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