by Karen Dachey
When people used to ask me what I missed most about my native Britain, I didn't have to think twice. "Indian food," I'd say. That was a few millennia ago, before the Gaylord restaurant chain had the presence of mind to open an outpost on the Peninsula. The pioneering establishment that operated in Stanford Shopping Center from 1982 to early last year became my lifeline. Compared with the unassuming Indian takeouts on every English high street, the place seemed horrendously expensive. But going there was a lot cheaper than flying halfway round the world (to London, let alone New Delhi).
Gaylord's prices then, as now, buy style and service as well as the very best in Northern Indian cuisine. Reopened last month in the Menlo Park location formerly occupied by the Papa Renato Trattoria, Gaylord remains in a totally different league from the more modest Indian restaurants that have sprung up all over the Bay Area in the past decade.
Solicitous service begins with the maitre d's warm welcome. The wait staff seem to have a sixth sense when it comes to pacing, and on my last visit they never wavered in their attentiveness, yet never once made an unwelcome intrusion.
We were seated in the largest of the new location's three elegantly appointed dining rooms. Wood-paneled and beamed, it is dominated by a handsome fireplace--on either side of which hangs a fine collection of Jodhpuri art: pictures of religious, court and village life, meticulously handpainted on cloth. In the evenings, votive candles flicker on each of the smartly linened tables; instrumental Indian music, high-pitched but not disconcertingly loud, makes a subtly exotic contribution to the overall air of graceful formality.
Papadums, crackerlike lentil wafers, arrive with the menu. Delicate and intensely peppery, they are delicious dipped into the accompanying condiments: yogurt blended with mint, cilantro, and chili; and a chutney-like sweet-and-sour relish made with raisins and tamarind.
My companion, a newcomer to Indian food, chose one of Gaylord's four all-inclusive "royal feasts." A sort of Course 101 in Northern Indian cuisine, "The Maharani" is a comparative bargain at $24.95. To start, a choice of two palate-awakening soups is offered: mulligatawny, the peppery chicken broth popularized by the British Raj, and a light-textured lentil-based dal. This second--piquant rather than cuttingly spicy-- showcases the kitchen's deft use of seasonings. It arrived steaming hot, with a bright garnish of baby peas and lemon quarters on the side.
As an accompaniment, we ordered nan ($2.50). Puffy and properly browned by the fierce heat of the tandoor oven, it was one of the most scrumptious versions of this addictive bread I've ever had. "The Maharani" dinner includes kulcha, a flatter, spiced, nan stuffed with green onions.
Gaylord's mesquite-fueled clay ovens work magic not only with leavened breads but also with chicken, lamb and fish. Chicken Makhanwale, one component of my friend's entree, begins with yogurt-marinated chicken baked in the tandoor. The meat, exquisitely moist thanks to the juice-sealing oven heat, is then robed in a buttery sauce redolent with tomato and the appealingly bitter taste of fenugreek.
A long-simmered combination of lamb and creamed spinach (sag gosht) is also included in the main course of the Maharani dinner. My companion, while praising the meat's melting tenderness, found the seasoning too high- voltage for his taste.
An effective anodyne was the navratan korma, a mildly cheesy, vegetable and nut-studded cream. A tangy side dish of yogurt and cucumber raita ($3) also helped ease the heat.
A la carte curries do not come with rice, so I ordered saffron-flavored basmati strewn with peas ($4.95) to accompany my prawn pepper masala ($16.95). Though pungent with cilantro, this invigorating dish was perfectly balanced in terms of heat. The sweet taste of prawns, so easy to obliterate when spices are undercooked or overused, came clearly through the onion and bell pepper-based sauce.
Indian restaurants are not renowned for their desserts, and Gaylord is no exception. We sampled the kulfi ($4.50 a la carte; inclusive in feasts), a disappointingly bland ice cream supposedly flavored with saffron and pistachios.
But dessert, after such a spread, seemed redundant. We were happy to end the evening with coffee, a last glass of our 1994 Mondavi Fume Blanc ($24), and the satisfaction of having sampled the rich cuisine of Northern India in its full, multidimensional complexity.
Gaylord: 1706 El Camino Real, Menlo Park, 326-8761
Hours: 11:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m. and 5-10 p.m. daily
Atmosphere: Regally elegant
Highlights: Impeccable service; expertly seasoned sauces and tandoori specialties; freshly baked breads
About the owner: Kishore Kripalani was raised in Calcutta, graduated from San Francisco State, and launched the first of his four California Gaylords 20 years ago. When the Peninsula restaurant recently moved from leased to freehold premises, its staff moved too. Employee loyalty, says longtime manager Sunit K. Sahu, explains why Gaylord's clientele can count on the same high-quality dining experience year after year: "Consistency is a big, big factor in our success." Trends such as "nouvelle Indian cuisine," let alone "retro Raj," are given short shrift here. And apart from a couple of Goan specialties, Gaylord continues to specialize in the rich Mogul cooking of the north. The kitchen crew, headed by veteran chef Bhandari Sharma, all hail from Northern India. "It would be improper to employ cooks from any other region" Saha said. Reservations, yes Credit cards, yes Parking, yes Full bar, yes Takeout, yes Banquet, yes Wheelchair access, yes Nonsmoking, yes Highchairs, yes Outdoor seating, no
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