The first bite I took was the naan – blistered and lightly brushed with soft ghee. It was airy, doughy and crunchy at the same time. I dragged a piece through a bowl of sage shrimp, took a bite and was stunned. It hit all the notes I had always wanted from a vegetable dish, a perfect interplay of ingredients. The salty taste of tender prawns elevated freshly cooked spinach, ginger, garlic and chilli.
I was at Le Taj in downtown Montreal with my husband, Mark, who has visited this elegant restaurant almost every summer since 1988. Copper bowls full of korma, xacuti, bhindi, steamed rice and that wonderful saag shrimp filled our table. Small bowls of pickles and chutneys lined the edge of the table.
The food memories lingered, as after all my travels. I tend to wrap myself in a cocoon of nostalgia: “Remember how warm and buttery the kouign-amann was that morning?” “The perfect strawberries we ate at Jean-Talon’s?” Back in Brooklyn, I shared delicious details of our trip to Mark: “Remember the saag shrimp that night at Le Taj?” Vegetables rarely hold a candle to pastries in my mind’s eye. But this saga settled into my consciousness, next to the buttery sweet pastries I love so much.
When I returned to Le Taj in May, the saag shrimp surpassed my memory. Le Taj’s cuisine is mainly North Indian, just like the dish itself. (The owner, Vinod Kapoor, grew up in Mussoorie, in the northern state of Uttarakhand.) Although a reluctant restaurateur, he is present in the dining room almost every evening, along with Fayzul Islam and Gourmet Dorje, experienced waiters who have worked at the restaurant for over 25 years. (They’ve been around for as long as Mark can remember.) And over time, Mr. Kapoor has made Le Taj an institution.
A folder, tightly wrapped in brightly colored silk and studded with precious stones, the nightly dessert menu stands out and is presented to guests at the end of the meal. The boldness blends perfectly with the sepia-toned reliefs lining the walls of the restaurant, a nod to Mr. Kapoor’s past as an art gallery owner and jewelery designer.
“I’m not a cook,” said Mr. Kapoor. “Before I opened the restaurant, the only connection I had with restaurants was that I ate there every night.”
He credited the saag prawn, one of his favorite dishes on the menu, to Pourin Singh, the chef whom he described as ‘a master of his craft’.
Mr. Singh walked me through the recipe, starting with a splash of neutral oil in a pan over medium heat. Onions and cumin seeds are gently fried before adding pinches of ground spices, a ladle of curry sauce from a base made that morning, several large prawns, blanched spinach and a drizzle of cream. It’s simple enough, but Mr. Singh’s secret, I believe, is the freshness of his ingredients: the herbs, the spinach, the prawns, and even the chopped tomato garnish.
Fortunately, Saag comes in so many ingenious variations. Leafy greens, such as spinach, amaranth, mustard greens or fenugreek make up the bulk, a heady blend of herbs and aromatics enhances flavor, while various proteins can be added to enhance the texture and flavor of the finished dish.
But saag shrimp convinced me that if I ever had to choose between a veggie- and butter-laden pastry, I could reply without missing a beat, “I’d rather have the saag.”
