Hot to trot

Kinara, in Clontarf, Dublin, serves terrific Pakistani food in welcoming surroundings

Kinara, in Clontarf, Dublin, serves terrific Pakistani food in welcoming surroundings. No wonder it's always busy, writes Tom Doorley

I don't make a habit of it, but on occasion I've found myself passing restaurants' back doors, and I have to admit that I've been known to stop and cast an eye over the the rubbish. It can be interesting.

You would be amazed, for example, how many places do a roaring trade in South American chicken. You would be even more gobsmacked that some restaurants buy artificial truffle, a black substance that can be thinly sliced in imitation of the real thing. And huge numbers of restaurants appear to have given up cooking altogether, judging by the number of prepared dishes they buy in. Perhaps they know their limitations.

I'm sure Kinara is not among them. This restaurant is unusual in several respects. For a start it's an ethnic restaurant that delivers exceptionally good food, and there are no more than a handful of those in the country. Secondly - and this is unusual enough in mainstream restaurants but virtually unknown in ethnic ones - Kinara uses a lot of organic produce. Finally, it's an exceptionally busy place in which everyone, including the staff, appears to be happy.

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We were among them. The moment we walked through the door the place smelled right. I eventually identified the subtle fragrance in the air as the spices that flavour pilaf rice. As an appetite enhancer it was second only to the brisk walk to Kinara from "Clontarf" Dart station, which appears to have been named by Michael O'Leary. Clontarf-Fairview, if you know what I mean.

The walk and the spicy aroma prompted us to have three starters. Kakeragh was a generous dish of crab claws marinated in spiced yogurt and cooked in a tandoor. Lasooni machali was cubes of monkfish coated in yogurt with a deliciously fresh, gingery, almost lemony fragrance, also cooked in a tandoor. Moist, succulent and cooked perfectly à point, this pair of seafood starters was exceptional. Bagan bahar - aubergine stuffed with mildly spiced vegetables - was good chunky stuff, but the other two dishes overshadowed it.

Main courses complemented each other perfectly. A deeply flavoured and deeply coloured beef jalfrezi had warm, earthy spices and just enough chilli heat. The chicken in a sublime murgh bhuna was moist and actually tasted of chicken; it was bathed in a mild, creamy but slightly sharp sauce with the tang of fresh coriander. The pilaf, with whole spices and caramelised onion, could have been a meal in itself. A buttery, delicately flaky nan bread was the best I've had in Ireland.

In fact this meal was the best example of Pakistani cuisine (or Indian, for that matter) I've eaten on this side of the Irish Sea.

With a single espresso, a double espresso, two Cobra beers and a bottle of Minervois the bill came to €116.40 before service. This is not cheap, but food, service and ambience at this level never are. You can't compare Kinara with the average ethnic restaurant, although in many of them you could run up a similar bill for a considerably less pleasurable experience. It was ever thus. Isn't it strange how the best-value food in Ireland is generally found at the dearer and cheaper ends of the scale? It's in the middle ground that I most frequently feel ripped off.

Kinara, 318 Clontarf Road, Dublin 3, 01-8336759, www.kinara.ie

WINE CHOICE

Drayton's Semillon-Chardonnay is good basic Australian white; Domaine de Brau is a very chunky organic red from Cabardès, in the Pays d'Oc. Both cost €18.50 a bottle or €4.35 a glass. Plozner (€26.50) is a serious Pinot Grigio, if you can imagine such a thing; José Pariente Verdejo (€29.95) represents the new wave of Spanish whites; Glazebrook Sauvignon Blanc, from New Zealand (€31), could be great with some of the spicier dishes; and Crios de Susana Balbo Rosé of Malbec (€23.50) has plenty of lush fruit for similar purposes. There's a biodynamic red, Domaine Ferrer Ribière (€26.50), from Roussillon, and several serious bottles, such as Chandon de Briailles Corton 2001 (€140) and the very rare St-Émilion Château le Tertre Roteboeuf 1998 (€180). Our organic Corbières La Baronne was €23.85.