Yantra

Yantra – 163 Tanglin Road #01-28/33 Tanglin Mall

I had the pleasure of dining here a month ago at an event pairing Indian food with Italian wines that could only be described as magical for this half-Indian coconut (brown on the outside, white on the inside). That evening captures the ethos of this maverick fine Indian fine-dining establishment along with my heart. As such, I jumped at the chance of having a buffet lunch here for a mere $15 nett per person; pity it’s only from 12 to 3 on weekdays. I harboured a slight fear that the price was an indication of standards set lower than the rather expensive dinner but that turned out to be unfound, Yantra astounded me again.

The Vegetable Pulau was simple and buttery with sweet vegetables amidst the delicate grains, the perfect vessel for the strong flavours of the other dishes. The Chana Chaat had feistiness to it with the sweet chickpeas cooked just right to tenderness without being mushy. Intriguingly, the Mixed Vegetable Raita seemed to be made from sweetened yoghurt; it was thick and creamy with a generous amount of crunchy vegetables – perfect to soothe the tongue of anyone not well acquainted with spice. The Chicken Malai Kebab was meltingly tender, smoky and juicy; a rare find in a world of skewered meats usually roasted to the point of inedible dryness in the absence of chutney.

I was a little wary of the mysterious-sounding Chef Special Chicken and Chef Special Fish. The former turned out to be arguably the best in the spread with soft, yielding chunks of lean chicken in a rich, mild gravy accorded sweetness from its tomato base, excellent on crispy quadrants of Garlic Na’an. The delicate flakes of fish in the latter really took on the subtle flavours of its light gravy.

The Dhongri Mutter was sugary sweet peas bathed in richly creamy gravy while the Motiya Palak was a silky-smooth spinach puree in which the corn kernels seemed out of place. The Dhabiwali Dal completed the selection with its combination of buttery lentils in a thick, smoky sauce. (Description starts from the centre then counter-clockwise from 3 o’clock.)

A curiously unlabelled dish had been picked clean during my first trip to the buffet table and I made a point to visit it again later. The popularity of what I will call The Anonymous Potatoes explained itself from the first bite; the ingenious use of mustard seed oil had impregnated the mealy new potatoes with its sharp, distinct flavour that melded with the sourish crust reminiscent of Tikka. It was a glorious explosion of flavour in bite-sized morsels.

Tucked away in a corner were two pots of soup that seemed quite foreign amidst the curries and kebabs. However, when Yantra takes on something, she truly makes it her own. The Cream of Chicken was a beautiful lovechild of classical chicken soup and a warm korma while the Cream of Tomato had a touch of spice that added volumes of character. I must add that I appreciated how one added cream to the tomato soup yourself as I prefer mine less creamy than the norm, most tomato soups leave me feeling sick from their richness.

Yantra stumbled upon the amazing discovery that fruit can add immense dimension to Indian sweets that – being milk based – have hitherto been limited largely to mere richness and creaminess. The Mango Rasmalai had the traditional thick creamy sauce soaked into the sponge-like curd but was taken to a whole new level by chunks of sweet mango and accented by a sprig of mint. It was vastly different but in the same amazing league as the berry version I sampled during my previous visit that had had its richness counter-balanced by tart berries instead.

The Jelebi was disappointingly soggy-looking and bizarrely-shaped at first but explained itself from the first heavenly nibble. The disk of crispy confection concealed a pineapple ring that put a whole new spin on one of my favourite Indian desserts. The sweet acidity of the fruit cut through the saffron infused oil that is the trademark of this dessert, rendering it a far lighter and much more complex incarnation.

The unembellished Rice Kheer was deliciously creamy with the grains masterfully overcooked to pudding-softness. However, it could have been a little thicker and a few more pinches of cardamom would have gone a long way.

On an unmarked platter stood bowls of white liquid and glasses of the same stuff laced with blue syrup. These concoctions tasted like Rabri (sweetened, thickened milk) and I much preferred it sans the blue liquid which had a strange flavour that was a cross between liquorice and peppermint.