Piquant Bread Bar

By Author: John Tang
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Long gone are the days when George Street pumped out nothing but pizza and subs at all hours. Last year, Piquant Bread Bar and Grill joined the moveable feast of upscale bistros and lounges that George Street has become.

Piquant is a spare but inviting space, dressed in calming earth tones. Though it bills itself as Organic, Eclectic, New Age Indian, the menu is still a shocker. Thai shrimp salad at an Indian restaurant? Grilled portobello coming from the same kitchen as daal and tandoori? Oh, well. Think local, eat global.

I ordered a mint limeade. While I waited, a bowl of crunchy Indian breads appeared with three bright dippings: apple, tamarind, and cilantro. Then the drink arrived. As I sipped the smooth icy froth of sweet and tart, with its burst of fresh mint (the ingredients whipped in a blender), all became clear. Flavor is key here, and owner and chef Kirti Rahi builds her experimental chords from the simple lyrical notes of the Indian kitchen: mango, mint, cardamom, cumin, basil, tamarind, coconut, and coriander.

In India there are so many spices, you can't even count them, says Rahi. I use ...
... flavor like a painter uses color.

Rahi, who grew up in upper middle class Delhi, remembers falling in love with cooking at age ten, the year her father died. She found solace in the kitchen under the wing of a servant from Nepal, a dazzling cook and reassuring presence. (Rahi's brother also encouraged her because he loved to eat—and so began her life of relentlessly experimenting with flavors.)

Despite her passion, Rahi's family forbade culinary school because in India, there's such an emphasis on academics, she says. At seventeen, she emigrated to the United States to pursue a business degree. After a fourteen-year computer career, motherhood, and a successful two-year effort to win her husband's support, Rahi finally embarked on her dream, enrolling, at age 35, in the Natural Gourmet Institute in New York.

No wonder that after waiting so long, she's gone a bit wild—crossing borders to steal a little jicama here or mozzarella there. If a food is good, it doesn't matter where it came from, she proclaims gleefully. Just eat it!

Despite her global leanings, she is strongest in the Indian vernacular, especially with appetizers. The samosas are fabulous—baked rather than fried, served with a spunky mango mint dressing. Vegetable spring rolls get an unexpected kick from a dash of vinegar worked into the filling, accompanied by chipotle dipping sauce. A timbale of onion, potato, and mango is a delightful surprise, wrapped in a puffed crunchy rice of Western India.

Small dishes also are quite strong: Chicken in tomato butter and fenugreek sauce is exceptionally tender and homey. Fragrant coconut almond sauce boasts chicken curry. I adored the paalak paneer—spinach with cubes of fresh cheese and just the right creamy tang from a sauce of tomatoes and coconut milk.

When the restaurant was planned, Rahi envisioned placing her bread bar in the open—hence the name of the restaurant. Though this design didn't work out, she retained the name. Her traditional Indian breads are a core offering—a dozen styles, baked in a clay oven, joyously retooled with ingredients like cauliflower, pomegranate seed, black lentils, leek, or caramelized onion. You can order these as a side or main dish with daal and vegetables.

Bread is very strong for me, she says. Back in India, everyone made breads in a clay oven.

Alas, the entrées—especially the non-Indian dishes—were too often mediocre, given the price ($19 to $27). Meats were often outshone by the accompaniments. Coriander shrimp was simple and fine—but the couscous flavored with fresh mint, lime, and chopped peppers was more interesting. Lamb with mint was competent, but nothing compared to the thrilling mashed potatoes made surprisingly crunchy with lentils. A grilled chicken breast stuffed with spinach and ricotta seemed like basic home cooking—nothing special about it. Indeed, there are far too many chicken dishes on the menu.

Service was slow though genial. Desserts were a mixed bag. Because Rahi is committed to healthful cooking, her sweets strain for righteousness, holding back on sugar. As a result, the rice pudding bordered on breakfast farina. White-chocolate bread pudding was a better choice, served in a pool of lovely orange sauce.

Despite its flaws, I'd go back in a heartbeat just for the sassy lime mint mojito, the bread bar, the paalak paneer, and butter chicken. But most of all, I'd go back to root for Rahi as she refines and focuses her vision of a world brimming with assertive flavors.
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