Slow-cooked Punjabi food from a kitchen that refuses shortcuts. Surrey, BC.
We cook the old way. Pulses soaked overnight. Meat rubbed and rested for a day. Bread made by hand before each service. From the clay oven, lentils over a low flame for hours, greens slow-cooked in the winter months. Nothing here is quick. Nothing is claimed. The food, we hope, will speak for itself.
Fired at four. By six, it holds the heat we need. Bread goes on the wall, meat on the skewer, and both leave blistered on one side — the old way, taught to our head cook by a mamaji who would not let him near the coals until he turned sixteen.
The pantry runs on seven pulses and twelve whole spices. Ghee from a single dairy. Nothing frozen. Nothing from a jar.
A long table, a set menu, and the kitchen cooking for you alone.
Dinner service is small — around forty seats a night, turned once. Reserving is the only way in on a Friday or Saturday.