Ed eats

Sa Re Ga Ma
Fortina Spa Hotel
Tigné Seafront
Sliema
Tel: 2346 2143

Food: 7/10
Service: 6/10
Ambience: 6/10
Value: 6/10
Overall: 6/10

I love stereotypes. They are such an efficiently wholesale way of forming opinions without bothering to drill down to individual detail. “But that’s unfair!” I hear you protest. “Surely you must attribute merit to the achievements and idiosyncrasies of the individual.”

It wasn’t the lack of Dhal that upset me. It was the violation of the universal truth that Indian restaurants never forget any part of your order

Well, I do if I know the individual. Pending that, a kindly generous stereotyping works in favour of many. Let’s say that almost every time I pop into a tavola calda anywhere in Italy I eat decent arancini. What reason do I have to doubt every tavola calda in Italy?

My stereotyping tends to be optimistic in that way. I keep negative experiences as exceptions unless proved otherwise. This gives me a convenient rule-of-thumb by which to gauge the likely outcome of any experience. It is a natural state of being and, whether we are prepared to admit it or not, we all gravitate to this kind of behaviour.

Stereotyping is not without its perils. Without our natural tendency to do so, racism, for instance, would not exist. And racism is inexcusable. So you can quickly gather that I take a rather lighthearted approach to the subject.

Let’s say, however, that you were to visit an Indian restaurant. You’d expect an Indian waiter who, without the assistance of a pen and paper, had the incredible ability to remember every single order.

I once went to Krishna in Sliema with a friend of mine and, with his admirable assistance, ate through most of the menu. I went there a couple of months later, and while the waiter patiently waited for me to decide upon a starter, was pleasantly surprised that he remembered what we’d ordered months before and also recalled that I’d loved one particular item on the menu.

This happened to me a number of times since then at a number of Indian restaurants. So I’m forgiven for assuming this to be the case.

When it was suggested that I try Sa Re Ga Ma at the Fortina, there was more than my recollections of childhood syllable breakdown crossing my mind. I despised the deconstruction of a perfectly flowing word back then and still haven’t figured it out several decades later. A little research reveals that these are the first four notes of an octave in Indian music. A restaurant called A B C D or Do Re Mi Fa doesn’t sound quite as exotic.

Getting to the restaurant involves walking through the Fortina hotel and making your way to the little oasis that it conceals within its walls. The internal pool area is kept vividly verdant and makes a welcome change from the sterile approach taken by too many of its competitors. Most of the restaurants have an al fresco dining area that makes excellent use of this lovely outdoor space.

On the night I visited, the wind huffed and puffed like a spoilt teenager and messed up our plans for dining in the open air.

We were ushered into the restaurant itself because the glassed-in area that creates a sheltered terrace was fully occupied. We were the only two people in there and this is probably not a bad thing. The dining area looks a little tired – like it is just past its days of glory.

We were greeted very enthusiastically by a young man who is evidently from somewhere on the sub-continent. I won’t hazard a more precise guess than that but his provenance filled me with hope and expectations. He was, as I’d expected, friendly and helpful. In time he would turn out to be almost too helpful but I’m not one to complain about exuberance.

The menus he brought were quite extensive. They contain all that one would normally go to an Indian restaurant for, as well as a little missive about the herbs and spices used in Indian cuisine. Each is matched to its health benefit.

It is good to know that there are health benefits associated with the spices I’m about to consume, but then again, I wasn’t there to be cured of anything specific other than insatiable hunger and my relative lack of curry-cooking skills.

In addition to the usual curries there is a section at the end for ‘banquets’ (read ‘set menus’) and Thali. I like the Thali approach, where all the food you’re consuming turns up at the same time, but I am not too keen on having just a vegetarian and a non-vegetarian option. You’re somewhat at the mercy of the chef’s curry-of-the-day, so if there is something specific you’ve gone for then there is little you can do.

We decided to take the à la carte approach. Upon our host’s recommendation, we ordered the special sizzler that seemed to have most of the items listed as starters on it.

Added to this we picked a Rogan Josh, my go-to curry when I’m in the mood for lamb and a lamb Madras because we were both in the mood for lamb, but I’d ordered mine as hot as the chef could possibly make it without melting his pots and pans.

I’m also quite partial to dhal soup, a spicy lentil soup, so I added a Channa Dal Palak that includes spinach and garlic, to our main courses. A Jeera pulao rice and saffron naan would soak up all the sauces and help fill my belly.

Every time I’ve been to an Indian restaurant, I have either been asked whether I wanted poppadums or else they simply turned up. Well, in this case, neither happened. We were given the three little bowls of chutneys and mint sauce when our starters were delivered but there was not a poppadum in sight.

One of the universal truths about Indian restaurants had been violated. I focused on my starter instead and thoroughly enjoyed most of the items on our sizzling dish. The tandoor and the seekh kebabs were tender and steeped in their respective spices. Also lovely were the fish and prawns. I wasn’t overly impressed with the Samosa but enjoyed the variety and quality of the rest of the platter.

Quite a while passed before our main course was served. There were only two people handling the floor on the night we were there so I suppose they were quite stretched having to keep up with a number of occupied tables.

When our mains did make it, there was no sign of the Dhal. I thought it would turn up at some point and started to dig into the spread we had in front of us. When eventually it was evident we weren’t going to taste the Dhal at all I mentioned this and cancelled the order.

It wasn’t the lack of Dhal that upset me. It was the violation of the second universal truth. Indian restaurants never forget any part of your order, even if they haven’t written it down.

I consoled myself with the Madras, leaving the Rogan Josh for later since I’d ordered it so hot. The lamb was tender, the spices well balanced, and there was a decent amount of heat going on here. Despite the heat, the coconut and ginger came through along with a heady mix of spices. The jeera pulao rice, with its simple addition of cumin seed, was a treat with the Madras.

My Rogan Josh was hot. I had ordered hot and had finally been served hot. Through the heat, fennel and ginger danced a merry dance on the edge of the palate. The lamb was tender, the sauce was excellent, and my only possible complaint is that there could have been more lamb in the sauce. Other than that, it was a very enjoyable experience.

Dessert was offered in the form of a little display of cakes that are prepared as little individual portions. They look the part, and the selection is as broad as it is enticing. I’d stuffed myself with naan and all the remaining sauces though, so had little room. I felt like a special tea and asked for one. It wasn’t special but it did the trick.

Considering we were rubbing shoulders with hotel guests who are on an all-inclusive package, I hadn’t expected to pay €70, particularly since we’d picked an inexpensive local wine to go with our dinner because it was the only Shiraz on the menu. I’d heard many who cited the place as one of the better options for Indian food. The food is fine really, and some more attention to the experience can shift the tides back to the glory the place once enjoyed. They’ll have to add poppadums to the mix before I return.

You can send e-mails about this column to ed.eatson@gmail.com or follow @edeats on Twitter.

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