Makani Indian & Arab Kitchen, Edinburgh

Everyone, I'm sure, has heard of the Bermuda Triangle, that area loosely bounded by Florida, Bermuda and Puerto Rico in which planes and ships have mysteriously disappeared. It may or may not be connected to the lost city of Atlantis which is alleged to lie beneath. In hospitality terms, most cities have an equivalent.

By that I mean areas in which bars and restaurants spring up regularly, but never seem to flourish. Within a short time they have either changed hands or closed altogether. Sometimes this curse can hover over a single building,. For example, there is a basement place just across the road from Edinburgh's Randolph Crescent. I can't remember any business lasting there for more than two or three years.

One might similarly categorise a stretch of Haymarket Terrace, the street going from the former Donaldson's School towards Haymarket Station. It was of course, badly affected by the psychopathic consequences of construction work for Edinburgh's cycle path, but that was a couple of years ago now. Things still come and go rapidly. There's a Vietnamese place (more than one in fact) which chops and changes; the very well received pizzologist, which was scored 21/25 by Miranda Heggie, seems to be no more*, having retreated to home base off Leith Walk; and the site of today's review has seen a good few occupations.

It was latterly a Chinese restaurant, Han Hau. I never visited, but according to my dining companion, L of veggieedinburgh fame, it was very good. When it closed I was intrigued to read that its successor on the site, Makani, was to be an Indian & Arab Kitchen. Our planned visit had to be postponed, because the tandoori chef was ill. A victim of the curse, perhaps? Inauspiciously we rescheduled for a Monday, a day upon which few restaurants deign to open.

We had an early reservation. By 7.30 the place was heaving. Not a space. The buzz that comes when everyone is tucking in and happy. Not, incidentally, anything alcohol related. Not only do they not have a licence, they don't permit BYOB. Who cares? With food of this quality you don't need anything else to add to the pleasure.

It's a slight misnomer to use the general adjective Indian. If you think about it, how useful would it be if a place simply described its food as European? After all, the two continents are of similar size. The origin of much of the cuisine here is Kerala, that exquisite region down the south west. (If you haven't visited, do go.) In much the same way that you will find some similar dishes throughout Europe, so it is in India. As you would expect in a country which has 22 official languages, they often have different names. So Kerala Pokkavada were a variation on onion bhajis, and darn fine they were too. We were fascinated by the sound of Gobi 65 (the menu also features Chicken 65), but sadly it was off. We could also have had Egg Cheese, which is boiled egg shallow fried mixed with cheese and chips. In all seriousness, from a menu of this size and, in a good way, idiosyncracy, there are many reasons to return. Perhaps a little prosaically we had some vegetable samosas. You can tell a great deal about an Indian place by the quality of the accompanying condiments. They are scoring highly so far.

Makani hasn't been open that long, and all new places have teething issues. Under the heading

of Traditional Curry Dishes there is an option of Karahi With Born/Born Less. Oops, said the charming Asif, Born Less should be boneless. We had the Paneer Karahi. Not only was it stunningly good, I am delighted to tell you that it was born less.

What I know about Arab cuisine you could write on the back of a postage stamp. It was therefore mandatory to investigate the small section of the menu headed Arabic Specials. Arabic Mandi, we are told, is a traditional dish from Yemen, mainly meat and rice. As far as I can see, it is mostly chicken, though there is one quail option. You can choose a quarter chicken or a whole bird. Sadly, there seemed to be nothing for a vegetarian. The chicken is marinated and grilled, and served on a huge bed of rice. It comes with some interesting sides. In addition to yoghurt, there is a little pot of red cabbage. Some sweetness, but not too much. Pineapple, Asif tells us. The third accompaniment is a delightful runny sauce with a slightly tart edge. I get the coriander and the lime, plus a bit of chilli. Tomato in there too, I'm told. It's called koos, pronounced hoose, should you wish to show off when you visit.

It's Asif's brother Anees who's the chef. They are from Kerala, and were delighted when I said I'd been there. I didn't quite work out where the Arabian influence came from. More questions to be asked next time. And there certainly will be a next time. At present there are only two posts on Trip Advisor. The less favourable one described it as being a bit chaotic, with lots of delivery bikers crowding the door, Our only negative also concerned the door. Its automatic closer was defective. On a not particularly chilly night, the gusts up the gusset detracted from the enjoyment. To aggravate matters, this was regularly ignored by passing waiting staff. Guys, you may be delighted by a respite from the heat of the kitchen, but your diners are not.

If that's the worst thing this picky critic can say, they have little to fear. Tectonic plates are constantly moving. I think the Bermuda Triangle may also have slipped away.

 

*When I passed, the windows were all covered up. Look up pizzologist, Haymarket and the site will refer you to the Montgomery Street restaurant.