Chandni Chowk to China

Much before the term ‘fusion food’ became as fashionable as haute couture, Indians had mastered the art of fusing. Mostly in the realm of Chinese food. To understand why, you need a social history fix. Till a couple of decades ago, when Indians — back in India — wanted to venture out of their home kitchens in order to sample restaurant (read: ‘exotic’) fare (to flag occasions such as birthdays, anniversaries, promotions and son/daughter coming first in class), they would invariably go for Chinese food (unless they were frequenting a five-star that housed a rare French deli or an Italian pizzeria). In the mainstream eating out space, ‘Chinese’ was the only cuisine on offer till fairly recently (there was no Thai or Vietnamese or Brazilian... not even decent plain vanilla American burgers).

‘Authentic’ Chinese food was a no-go. For two reasons. One, in a closed market, the essential wherewithal (spices, herbs, veggies, cuts, etc) was missing. And two, Indians, traditionally going the way of spice route when it came to eating their hearts out, would never have (willingly) come to grips with a certain ‘blandness’ associated with mainland China food.

Therefore ‘Indian Chinese’.

These two humdrum words, when strung together, would magically offer ‘discerning’ diners exotica coupled with familiar taste. Indian Chinese, in most basic joints, don’t go beyond Chilli Chicken and Egg Fried Rice/Chowmein. Lots of soya, vinegar, and ajinomoto. And sliced green chillis.

Many years ago, Gypsy Chinese, a restaurant that proudly cooked up Sino-Indian fusion offerings in Bombay, came of age, and began to be revered as one of the hot spots for ‘(Indian) Chinese’. These days, Gypsy Chinese has unveiled its portals for Dubai residents. If you are an uncompromising fan of subcontinental flavours but crave the flair of Oriental presentation, a visit is a must.

The restaurant, located in the Grand Excelsior on Kuwait Street, Bur Dubai, is packed on a weekday. My fussy companion and I are ushered into the cosy environs that boast of maroons and golds... and warm wooden flooring. A quick gastronomic march follows: steamed veggie dumplings sautéed in butter (unthinkable in China, but hey, who said we were in Sino-land?) with chopped spring onions, chicken with burnt chillies, crispy fried shredded lamb and wasabi prawns make their way in as appetisers. All four are delicious… spicy, tangy, bursting with flavours with scant regard to subtlety — but oh so good! The wasabi prawns, our informed server tells us, is souped up with some mayo that lessens the alien and thrusting taste of wasabi. We are impressed at the outcome.

I am almost full by now, as is my friend who believes in French portions. But since we need to sample the mains, we decide to give a go-by to stuff like chilli paneer and garlicy babycorn (which I was keen to try out in my fusion outing). We get the eggwhite and olive rice — that is excellent — and the intriguing three-flavoured noodles (steamed noodles stir-fried in a melee of tangy, spicy and buttery flavours, quite a treat), and wolf that down with tender fish fillets topped with coriander and garlic sauce, and pot-roasted lamb stir-fried with garlic, green chillies and spring onions. Heavenly. Unlike ‘authentic’ Chinese, that leaves you feeling light, this meal sits heavy. I definitely need something heavier — and sinful — to do justice to it. Instead of sipping on green tea or jasmine tea — so in vogue today — I introduce yet another angle to the fusion experience by ordering a divine chocolate mud cake (I lazily wonder if somebody from Mississippi would share my ‘divine’ verdict) with vanilla ice cream; my friend sticks to the original coupling and goes for the formatted lychees with ice cream.

Later, we debate the name Gypsy Chinese. Like a gypsy, my friend tells me, who wanders from place to place, this restaurant too has traversed the India-China arc picking up taste trails. Dubai can look forward to more of the original taste of fusion.

sushmita@khaleejtimes.com