CityLife

I have eaten here a few times and the food is always very good. The prices are quite reasonable as well

MY apologies to tubers everywhere for not celebrating National Year of the Potato 2008 sufficiently. I also ignored the Keith Chegwin-fronted National Chip Week in February.<br /> <br /> The problem is that these promotional windows of opportunity for even the humblest of foodstuffs do crop up with increasing regularity. <br /> <br /> Still who’s to begrudge a moment in the sun for the Parsnip Marketing Board or Duck Eggs of England (no, not the national cricket team)…<br /> <br /> It’s all too much for an addled foodie who has only just worked out the cunning double meaning of ‘‘Go to work on an egg’’, the Fifties Fay Weldon-scripted ad slogan (British Egg week, by the way, was last month, if you missed it).<br /> <br /> Bewildering array<br /> <br /> This is all my scrambled way of informing you that next week (November 23-29) is National Curry Week. But don’t expect sizzling balti frenzy down the Curry Mile, which really doesn’t need the extra promotion.<br /> <br /> It does need a bit more surprise element among its bewildering array of restaurants, both the formica-driven and the Bolly faux glam.<br /> <br /> My advice has been to look elsewhere.<br /> <br /> Obviously EastzEast. In 2006 it became the first Indian to win the CityLife.co.uk Manchester Food and Drink Awards Restaurant of the Year title.<br /> <br /> The Punjabi mini-chain has since expanded into a second style-conscious, if slightly barracks-like outlet, by the Irwell on Blackfriars Street, and ther’s a Preston outpost in the pipeline.<br /> <br /> Neon glamour<br /> <br /> For neon glamour with consistent if unsurprising food (like EastzEast skewering vast naans on a metal frame, so they cool too quickly), visit Akbar’s on Liverpool Road, Castlefields. For surprising Southern Indian, Sanmini in Ramsbottom is the revelation.<br /> <br /> So where does that leave Dilli in Altrincham, four years on from its arrival?<br /> <br /> Still sticking to its Ayurvedic guns, naturally. To recap, this sanskrit philosophy (Ayur=life, Veda = knowledge) compares the human body to a leaf that shrivels up through lack of vital moisture. Its practices are to restore those lost juices<br /> <br /> My companion, Bandit Queen and I chose to rehydrate in advance with a couple of hoppy Belgian beers in the nearby Morte Subite bar and chose not to get too philosophical about what was to come.<br /> <br /> Welcome compliment<br /> <br /> The place, of course, is still saddled with my verdict as a fledgling food critic: "the tastiest Indian food I’ve eaten since I was in Mumbai.’’<br /> <br /> Chef/manager Ravi Bajaj trained in Mumbai with the famous Taj hotel group, so that must have been a welcome compliment.<br /> <br /> The reason to go back and reassess Dilli was Ravi’s latest annual overhauil of the menu.<br /> <br /> The décor, alas has not been reassessed. Stamford Street is identikit British High Street and Dilli’s upstairs dining space is similarly cold and scuffed.<br /> <br /> Seafood, street food<br /> <br /> The downstairs dining room, with its dun hues and carved Mogil traceries, does not lift the spirits, either.<br /> <br /> Fortunately the new menu does, even if you regard the Ayurvedic sschtick as niche marketing hokum (BQ does). Bandit Queen and I actually arrived a week before the new menu kicked in, but Ravi obliged us with a way over-abundant preview of what was new but basically a variant on the Dilli template – seafood, street food, earthy, authentic.<br /> <br /> That we could accommodate pudding was tribute to the kitchen’s subtle wiles.<br /> <br /> Juicy inspiration<br /> <br /> Pudding wasn’t the kind of rice-pudding or garish sweetmeats overload. Tandoori char-grilled pineapple with a ginger, honey, lime and black pepper dressing was a juicy inspiration. Bandit Queen, back from guerilla camp in a remote mountain fastness, admired its simple virtues.<br /> <br /> Simple virtues are probably what Dilli does best in its panoramic trawl across the Indian sub-continent.<br /> <br /> Our best starter was Samosa ki chaat £4.55), a Delhi street snack where the veg/chickpea filling in a delicate casing, dressed with swirls of yoghurt, mint and tamarind, reminded you what a samosa should be.<br /> <br /> The tandoor oven was much in evidence. The tiger prawns marinated in black pepper and spices were unexciting, the Adraki lamb chops ((£6.95), slow-braised in nutmeg and ginger, were better if a little mean on flesh.<br /> <br /> Dominant cardamom<br /> <br /> Lamb reappeared in the mains. At £9.95, the off-the-bone Gosht Banjra was similarly spiced, mace is only nutmeg by another name, but cardamom dominated the spicing.<br /> <br /> All this satisfied Bandit Queen’s carnivore craving, but, as previously Dilli’s veggie offerings were more impressive (it has won best veggie gong at the CityLife.co.uk Manchester Food and Drink Awards).<br /> <br /> Palak Poriyal (£5.50) was a cunning Southern-style spinach stir-fry with garlic, mustard seed, red chillies, split Bengal gram and grated coconut matched by an equally lovely Hyderabadi Yellow Dhal (£4.75).<br /> <br /> Piquant unripe mango<br /> <br /> This was red and yellow lentils cooked with green mango (the piquant unripe mango that is the basis of mango chutney), with mustard seeds and curry leaves. Both were aromatic and satisfying, no mere accompaniments.<br /> <br /> Dilli has always featured salmon, prawns and lobster on its annually changing cartes.<br /> <br /> Lobster Hara Pyaz, fresh crustacean stir-fried with spring onions and garlic, was simple cooking for a hefty £19.95, but that was its strength. No masking by over-spiced sauces, lie so much Indian cuisine. Dilli is staying the course. <br /> <br /> Now maybe it is time to spruce up the restaurant. The makeover of Michelin-stated Juniper along the line shows that Altrincham doesn’t have to be dowdy.<br />