Unfolding Drama

by Rebecca Chastenet de Géry

photograph by John Anderson

The Clay Pit

1601 Guadalupe, 322-5131

Mon-Fri, 11am-2pm (lunch); 4-6pm

(half-priced appetizers; $1 off wine, draft beers, & premium liquors); 5pm (dinner)

After spending hours -- in fact, days -- with my nose buried in Indian cookbooks and culinary treatises, I'm no closer to becoming the pseudo-expert on the country's food I'd hoped to be than when I began my mission. The cuisine of the Indian continent, I learned, veers wildly from one extreme to the next. It speaks to the diner in ways that are at once loud and timid, racy and soft, complex and rudimentary. So dizzying are the myriad spices employed, so varied the methods of preparation, that years of culinary study might still find me stuck in the role of the eager-to-please suitor continually surprised, and willingly strung along, by my object of affection's mysteriously changing ways.

So there you have it: my shameless disclaimer. Charged with speaking authoritatively about Austin's newest Indian restaurant (as the Chronicle food critic assigned the review), I feel the need to come clean. What you read won't be an article of my Indian meals insightfully deconstructed. It can't be. Accept instead this tongue- and stomach-inspired commentary on the food offered at what I now consider one of our city's prime fine dining locations.

The Clay Pit fills Austin's landmark Bertram Building at 16th & Guadalupe. It's a seductive, spacious place, with leather couches, a sprawling bar made of long-leaf yellow pine, and concrete floors stained naturally with spices like turmeric and paprika. Candles glow atop tables dressed in warm saffron- and cinnamon-colored cloths, and metalwork wall sconces give off additional subdued light. Despite the varied ages of the patrons, The Clay Pit feels youthful. An extensive wine list includes over 70 selections; the bar stocks single malt scotches and other premium liquors, and happy hour is a growing part of the business.

The restaurant's young owners -- Tinku, Rajina, Manu, and Jasdeep -- all grew up together in St. Louis. Husband-and-wife team Tinku and Rajina got their restaurant experience in Seattle at Chutney's, an Indian restaurant rated the city's number one restaurant overall. The other two honed their skills in Austin. In opening The Clay Pit and labeling their restaurant "contemporary Indian," the group's hope was to take Austin a big step beyond "strip-mall" Indian cuisine. To a great extent, the man responsible for doing so is Chef Maqbool Ahmed. A native of New Delhi, Ahmed spent some 25 years in training with the prestigious Oberoi International Hotel Chain. His food reveals Arabic influences, although The Clay Pit's menu focuses predominately on North Indian fare and relies heavily on the tandoor, the clay oven lined with live coals that was brought to India by the Moghul conquerors in the 16th century.

Dinner at The Clay Pit should begin with an order of the house's special Curried Mussels ($6.95). An appetizer of Taj Mahal proportions, dozens of the fat, tender mollusks come marooned in a sea of sauce jazzed up by a colorful decorative dice of red and green bell pepper. The sauce takes no prisoners, its soft, silky appearance misleading. In it, I imagine, dozens of garlic cloves, roasted until mellow, join with fruity tomatoes and outspoken herbs and spices such as coriander (both dried and fresh), ginger, and cumin seed, among others. It's a stinging sensation that gets more assertive with each bite and begs to be sopped up with warm, pliant naan bread, cooked in the tandoor. Another top-shelf appetizer is the Coriander Calamari ($5.95). The Clay Pit replaces the standard batter with a crumbcoating dominated by toasted coriander seed and pairs the crisp "Os" with a garlicky mayonnaise tinted pale green with cilantro. Although the menu lists five other appetizers, some offering further choices within themselves, I recommend launching your meal with an order of the Palak Panir Naan ($2.95).

Naan breads are soft flat breads baked in the intense heat produced by the tandoor. This particular naan (The Clay Pit features seven), finds a sweet spinach purée nestled inside its doughy heart, offset by the delicate tang of paneer cheese. The making of paneer, a compressed cottage cheese of sorts, is a Bengali specialty. In the preparation, lemon juice is added to boiling milk, causing the milk to curdle. The curds, which ultimately become the paneer, are then pressed and hung to drip. When the surplus moisture ceases to fall, the paneer is compressed to achieve a texture similar to that of tofu.

In the domain of "Sizzling Platters," those bearing the unmistakable earthy flavor resulting from the tandoor's live coals, the traditional Tandoori Chicken ($11.95) and Rack of Lamb ($15.95) deserve mention. The chicken arrives clinging gently to the bone, its deep pink blush a testament to its stay in the clay pit and to its mild yet lively marinade of garlic, ginger, yogurt, and garam masala (a spice blend typical of Northern India that often includes cardamom, cloves, coriander, cumin seed, turmeric, ground peppercorn, and cinnamon). The Rack of Lamb, a dish that warrants the label "contemporary Indian," arrives Frenched, its slim bones jutting out of the stainless steel-lined copper serving dish that holdsit. Almost crisp on the outside yet richly marbled, the lamb melts in the mouth, its meaty flavor softened by a sweet, spice-laden mango chutney.

Vegetarians often turn to India for inspired food when they can no longer make a go of the gardenburger, as a majority of Indian nationals, particularly those from the southernmost part of the country, do not eat meat. Although much of The Clay Pit's menu features meat or seafood, vegetable eaters won't leave the table disappointed. Along traditional lines, Chef Ahmed prepares Daal Makhni ($8.95), a dense helping of mixed lentils made even more comfortable by a dose of puréed tomatoes and a liberal splash of cream. The Okra Masala ($8.95), a less frequently encountered vegetable dish, finds spoonful after spoonful of the fuzzy green spears (cooked until soft, but not slimy) resting underneath a tomato-based sauce redolent of cumin.

Chicken breast generally fails to capture my attention on menus, but The Clay Pit's version, one of the restaurant's signature dishes, is divine. Called Khuroos-E-Tursh, a Parsis term meaning simply "something stuffed," the breast clutches a brazen stuffing of spiced onions, chili paste, and ground nuts. Its fire is tamed by a sinfully creamy sauce made thick by a purée of cashews and almonds. Chicken breast rarely tastes better.

In the lamb category (The Clay Pit offers six different recipes, excluding the tandoor selections), a selection from southern India, the Lamb Coconut Stew ($12.95), turned out to be a favorite. In it, chunks of tender lamb float in a stew kept relatively mild by the addition of coconutmilk yet enlivened by shallots and coriander.

Lunch at The Clay Pit does feature a buffet. For $6.50, the restaurant displays a couple of tossed salads, soup, a lentil dish, tandoori chicken, and changing vegetable and meat curries. Dessert the day I did lunch there was a sweet rice pudding. The lunch menu also lists some Indian-inspired pastas, traditional curries, and the fun Tandoori Naan Wraps ($5.50-$6.95). I sampled a grilled shrimp wrap that held spicy shrimp as big around as my thumb, rice, panir cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, and sautéed onions and bell peppers. It was more substantial than I'd expected, and very fresh, although I would have appreciated a little more raita, India's yogurt-based condiment, to bind it.

My experiences at The Clay Pit have confirmed my impression that Indian food is like a drama unfolding. The cast highlighted on the marquee may be lamb, spinach, and coriander, but as you delve deeper into the dish, minor characters like cheese, potato, or saffron get their moment to shine. To complicate matters, when Indian cuisine is good, all its flavor components come together in a "sum is greater than the whole of its parts" equation. My conclusion? Deciphering each dish shouldn't be the aim when you visit this exciting new spot. Go, ask questions, and dare to taste something new. My hunch is that you'll enjoy your education.