Nostalgia is one of the most powerful emotions food can evoke.
Chefs realize this, and many have crafted dishes to trigger their patrons’ memories, sending them to their Peter Pan-esque happy place. Notable flashback-inducing plates include Thomas Keller’s “coffee and doughnuts” dessert, served at the French Laundry in Yountville, Calif., and Gabrielle Hamilton’s ode to her childhood favorite, the bacon and marmalade sandwich, offered at Prune restaurant in New York. These dishes are innovative and refined versions of familiar, simple foods.
Eaters also seek out meals that remind them of a pleasant past. One of my favorite ways to reminisce is to go to Tiffin on University Boulevard, East, which takes me back to Brick Lane, the Indian and Bangladeshi immigrant enclave where I spent many nights chowing down during my semester abroad in London.
Brick Lane is famous for its blocks of curry houses, where employees stand outside and strike bargains with passengers, baiting them to enter the establishment in exchange for a 10 percent discount or a free bottle of wine. Though there is no such bargaining at Tiffin, located in a Takoma Park strip mall about 10 minutes from the campus, the hearty and flavorful dishes are usually worth their prices.
Tiffin’s menu items aren’t exact replicas of the thick, fiery and at times creamy Anglo-Indian curries I gobbled down on Brick Lane. But their herby nature, tender meats and substantial vegetarian dishes conjure up reflections of my forays into East London and form new memories of meals I want to revisit in the future.
And unlike many Brick Lane restaurants, Tiffin doesn’t charge for its popadoms, which are round crackers about the size of a piece of matzo, and its complementary dips: a neon green, mint-flavored sauce, a chunky chili sauce and a dark brown sesame-flavored sauce.
The popadoms and sauce can be addictive, but I’ve learned to save room for the main events.
I can’t resist ordering samosas — classic Indian street food comparable to empanadas or mini-calzones — as my appetizer. Tiffin’s samosas are packed with potatoes, peas and what tastes like a lot of cumin spice, and India’s star savory pastries are lighter than their Italian and Latin American counterparts.
And don’t miss Tiffin’s naan, the glorious Indian flat bread that is baked, charred and slightly puffed in a clay oven. Tiffin offers several types of naan, including stuffed versions, but even the pickiest eater is unlikely to refuse the beautiful, white flour basic. One order seems to have a longer diameter than the average pizza pie, and the naan’s presentation in a basket half its size enhances its stature.
For entrees, I typically can’t resist goat or lamb, but most of Tiffin’s game meat dishes are priced in the high teens, an amount also known as too expensive for me. So I stick with the chicken or vegetarian dishes, which are pretty damn good and cost at least a few bucks less, such the Kadai Chicken Chili, a dish named for the metal pan it is served in.
Like many fans of authentic Indian cuisine — especially South Indian — I am a spice fiend. And the onion and ginger-laced tomato sauce, which the chunks of crispy, spice-rubbed chicken swim in, blows my head off. Just as hot, but not quite as complex, is the dubiously red chicken vindaloo, which translates to mean “hot.” The various meat biryanis (rice and chicken, lamb or goat simmered and mixed together) are surprisingly spicy, but tasty nonetheless. I’ll order a biryani over Panda’s pork-fried rice any day.
Dishes are made fresh and cooked to order, so customers who can’t take the heat can ask the chef to turn the spice level down a few notches. They can also just douse their dish in the restaurant’s yogurt house, which my friend did the night her chicken-and-spinach curry dish almost made her pass out. And there’s always plenty of saffron-tinged, long-grain basmati rice to go around, an additional mouth-soother.
Because India’s population is majority Hindu, a religion that values vegetarianism, its cuisine is full of must-try vegetarian options. Indian vegetarian dishes aren’t the bland, wheat grass-laden starving artist food served in Berkeley communes. Rather, they are just as filling as meat dishes, and often even more stimulating for the taste buds. My go-to veggie dish at Tiffin is the Chole Peshwari, an earthy-looking mass of stewed chickpeas and diced potatoes.
Tiffin’s food and its spacious, pristine dining area make the restaurant prime time for an awesome, sinus-clearing meal with friends. And for me and my friends from the 2009 Maryland-in-London program, it’s a place to reminisce on the dinners of yesteryear.
rush@umdbk.com
