SA Weekend restaurant review: Daughter in Law

An acclaimed Melbourne restaurateur has bought his concept for ‘unauthentic’ Indian food to the East End, writes Simon Wilkinson.

Daughter in Law, in Rundle St in the city. Picture: Emma Brasier

I have an unhappy relationship with Kingfisher beer, forever tarnished by two years in London where every lengthy pub session would inevitably finish with a visit to the local curry house and a final drink we never needed. The lager in question would always be Kingfisher, most often poured ahead of time into dirty glasses, left to go warm and flat, so even the diehards struggled to get it down.

India’s biggest selling brew is given a glittering showcase at new East End restaurant Daughter in Law, its stubbies and branded glasses arranged on a shiny three-level rotating plinth in a gold-trimmed chiller cabinet that is also stocked with local craft tins. Like the wine fridge, the idea is to help yourself.

Daughter in Law calls itself a modern Indian restaurant but seems to put just as much effort into the party as it does the paneer. A mid-80s playlist is cranked out at full volume. A hyperactive manager leads choruses of Happy Birthday that go from table to table.

FRONT: Freshly shucked oysters with Pineapple and gin granita and caviar. Picture: Emma Brasier

The menu’s first dish is dubbed “Balls of Happiness”, an obvious invitation for a round of double entendres.

The former Taj Tandoor site in Rundle St has been transformed from drab browns and beiges to displaying all the colours of an intricate sari. Chairs are pale musk, walls a darker peach and banquettes covered in shimmering blue velvet. All of this is washed with a pale pink light as if in a permanent sunset. I just wish the spicing in some of the dishes we try was half as bold as the decor.

Daughter in Law follows a formula that owner Jessi Singh has developed in similar ventures in Melbourne, Sydney and New York, mixing more widely seen curries such as butter chicken and rogan josh with street foods and his own creations.

He argues, correctly, that even traditional recipes are constantly evolving and is upfront in calling dishes such as his fried squid and lamb kebab “unauthentic”.

The snackier street foods are the most convincing, though, at around $20, are priced at similar levels to some of the larger serves.

Those balls, properly known as gol gappa or pani puri, are fragile globes of crisp semolina filled, in this case, with a relish of date and tamarind, another tangy one based on coriander, and thick yoghurt. Trying to take a delicate bite will likely end in catastrophe, so it is best to, open wide, shove the whole lot in and prepare for a magnificent explosion of sweet, sour, creaminess and crunch.

Picture: Emma Brasier

A similar combination is splashed around to dress the papadi chaat, a chaotic ensemble of crisp wafers topped with chickpeas, shredded cabbage and carrot, and what looks like fried vermicelli, all designed to scoop up nachos-style.

Crumbed croquettes of yoghurt hung until it has a texture like soft feta are propped on a fluorescent magenta sauce of beetroot that is as brightly flavoured as its colour suggests.

Roasted barramundi curry. Picture Duy Dash.

Roasted barramundi with a “South Indian style curry broth” sounds wonderful but doesn’t live up to its description. The fish, served as a whole fillet with crisped skin, is well handled but it sits in a mysterious pale emulsion with the gluggy consistency of nursery food and a blandness to match. A spiced sambal of shredded coconut and crab on top can only do so much.

“Aussie lamb chops” are cooked in the tandoor, where the furnace heat leaves their bone handles scorched but the meat ever-so-slightly pink and very tender. They are coated in a marinade, however, that offers a shrill note of heat rather than any great complexity and benefit from dunking in the accompanying pots of yoghurt and mint chutney.

Colonel Picture: Emma Brasier

From the tandoori vegetables, a heavily charred cob of corn with curried butter and crumbled paneer is a better option than roasted asparagus spears laid over a thick, malai sauce and buried beneath an avalanche of grated Comte cheese.

The two desserts on offer are a kulfi-style ice cream served on a popsicle stick and gulab jamun dumplings that are fragrant with saffron and rose petals but have leathery skins, leading us to suspect they been on hold for some time.

Balls of Happiness at Daughter in Law, Adelaide. Picture Duy Dash.

Aussie lamb chops at Daughter in Law, Adelaide. Picture Duy Dash.

Daughter in Law has been a smash since it opened two months ago and the attraction is understandable. The concept is solid, the menu reads well and reviews from Singh’s other venues are impressive. But, judging by the dishes we ate, some of the cooking has been lost in translation.