It matters not that the ‘driveway’,
the only route into and out of Sumner,
is lined with a two storey wall of shipping containers and the hills
overlooking the area are pockmarked with houses in various stages of ruination;
the very essence of this seaside village remains undamaged and as charming as
it ever was, its underlying character jubilantly intact. In the depths of
winter you will almost certainly see a wetsuit-clad surfer emerging from the
waves, you will always enjoy enhaling the salt seasoned air, and the eclectic
slopes,smooth and jagged, steep and gentle, sheltering this almost sleepy haven
provide something undeniably special.
Indian Sumner Restaurant, resembling
a modified Kiwi bach but with an almost Ghandi-esque lack of pretension, a
welcome simplicity, a funkiness and the intimacy of a small space with its
wooden battened exterior and rickety presence colourfully enhanced by the
motifs, wall hangings and imagery sets the scene so effectively.
Even the menu jumps up at you with a joyful,
spicy exuberance, its bright yellow, orange and red colours instilling an
exciting sense of preprandial expectation, not unlike, I am sure, the aim of
the new wave of sensory restaurants in the world, where colour, music and mood
are the drivers. This popular, well managed little enterprise follows through
with striking confidence by offering a strong and tempting range of very
reasonably priced dishes that do not disappoint in the eating.
At $13.00 the Posht, “tender pieces
of lamb cooked with poppy seeds and spices”, was earnest and earthy with the
spices beautifully complementing rather than overpowering the lamb. As a table
of five we shared a selection of dishes, as one does in these situations, the
Roghan Josh always a favourite and well executed in this instance. The Saag,
with the accent on spinach, is always one of my choices and all the elements of
flavour were present, in proportion with no one ingredient overshadowing the
other. Spinach in an application like this is a sure winner and worthy of your
attention if you’re dining here. There was Mango Chicken and a Madras, both
enjoyable additions to the collective plates, pulao rice, poppadums, mixed
pickle, various Naan breads, beer and wine. What is always surprising when
Indo-dining is the ability of what seem like very modest servings to satisfy
quickly the pangs of hunger, leaving, more often than not, the eater seriously
replete! A simply irresistible prospect on a cold winter’s evening.
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