I was ecstatic about Chai and Chaat having opened in Essex Quay and to finally have a place to go to for excellent Indian street food in Dublin. The business was short-lived, though; chef-owner Dharmesh Shah sold the space to Abraham Mathew — who also runs Olivez in Tallaght — and Annam Cafe was born.
Annam Cafe has only been open for a week at this point, which might explain its teething problems: our order took close to an hour to start arriving. Mathew explained it was because some of the burners weren’t working, so I’d say it might be worth holding off on visiting for another week or so. This is not to say the place isn’t worth visiting; you’ll only be glad if you do.
I have dreamed of seeing thatte (or thattu) idli on a Dublin menu for as long as I can remember, and while a couple of other places serve it too, my first brush with the Karnataka classic in Dublin has been here. One portion is made up of two large, white discs — served either plain with sambar, coconut chutney, and tomato chutney, or smeared with ghee and podi (we got the latter). Good thatte idli should disintegrate in your mouth without much chewing, and while this one lacks that characteristic, it is still able to form tasty morsels. The sambar has room for improvement, but the coconut chutney is on point. Few flavour pairings are as satisfying as ghee and podi, and I’d order this dish again just so my tastebuds can recognise that familiar comfort.
The previous owner of the place left such an impact on us with his chaat that we had to try the samosa chaat at version 2.0 to see if it was at par. We’re a little irritable because it arrives over an hour after ordering, but go through it quickly because we’re that much hungrier. The samosas are well-prepared with a crunchy outer covering and appropriately spiced potato filling, placed under lashings of yogurt, mint chutney, and a hint of tamarind chutney — all festooned with bhujia. Chickpeas cooked in a tomatoey sauce form the base, and the yogurt and mint chutney add flavour, but we would have preferred a more generous drizzle of sweet tamarind chutney to balance the other, more savoury dressings.
We soon realise that the cafe’s strength is its Malyali food (I used “Keralan” once and a friend who is from the state swiftly corrected me: “Malyali, not Keralan”). Tempted to order one each of the Malyali offerings, we narrow it down to the signature: kizhi, which is available with either chicken or beef. Kizhi is made by preparing a thick, coconut milk-based gravy with your meat of choice, which is then layered between Malabar parottas. The whole preparation is wrapped in a banana leaf and steamed-cooked so the parottas absorb the flavours from the gravy and meat. Annam Cafe’s kizhi also uses egg: a masterstroke that’s telling of how well the kitchen understands complementary ingredients.
Our kizhi arrives wrapped in aluminium foil. Steam rises from it as I slowly open the parcel, one foil petal at a time. If you order this dish, be prepared to get your hands dirty as it just doesn’t taste the same with a fork (believe me, I’ve tried it). The flaky, layered parottas are soggy with the gravy (but in a good way). Tear bites of the parotta, scoop up some chicken (cooked on the bone) and gravy along with the onions that are part of it, add a bit of the fluffy egg, and put the whole combination into your mouth. It’s truly one of the best things I’ve eaten in the city.
It’s soon time for dessert but we’re hesitant because our tummies have no space left and also because we know it might take a while. And so, we save the bun-maska with badam milk on the specials board for next time. The staff at the cafe can be rest assured that I will return for this novel take on the buttery Bombay snack — I’m very curious about what sweet almond milk could do to the popular teatime treat.
Standard north Indian fare — like chana masala, chicken tikka, and butter chicken — is also present on the menu, but both my instinct and experience with the kizhi say that the Kerala-style dishes are the way to go here. We’ll be back to try the milky tapioca with beef, coconut prawns, and beef roast, which will hopefully transport us to the land of the backwaters, even if briefly. The Indian government can interfere with regional food habits all it wants, but it won’t take away Kerala’s rich cuisine that’s now set to take Dublin by storm.
*Our total bill came to €54.80, but we received a discount and paid €50.
