A few months ago, a colleague invited me to dinner at Newport Beach's Tamarind of London, which he considered probably the best Indian restaurant in Southern California, a full-fledged satellite of a Mayfair restaurant that had been among the first kitchens ever to win a Michelin star for its Indian cuisine. I had been to the London original about a decade ago, and while I had been more impressed by the clubby plushness of Cinnamon and the direct, vibrant flavors at Rasa and the late Kastoori, I was impressed by the Mayfair Tamarind and its frank attempt to produce Indian food with the sheen and polish of white-tablecloth European cuisine. Its specialties included glossy takes on curry house classics and an especially nice version of the rice casserole biryani roasted under a pastry dome, but what I remember chiefly was the wine list, the flowers and the cost.
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