Sunday sappadu: was Shankar enough fire?

FIRE by celebrity chef and leadership guru Shankar R Santhiram is located on the swish Straits Quay, a little north of George Town on Penang island in Malaysia. Social media has been abuzz these past several weeks in anticipation of him cooking up a storm in Johannesburg to support the Melrose Sri Soobramaniar Temple's building fund.

My one companion had a serious man crush on Chef Shankar and insisted that our evening on the holiday island be crowned by the renowned "Sunday sappadu".

Fire's reputation is a refined take on South Indian Tamil cuisine with a distinct Malaysian twist. The restaurant stands out for its cosy, intimate ambiance with harbour views that include billionaire's yachts at one's elbow, faultlessly attentive service and a focus on home-style yet artfully executed dishes.

Word has been doing its rounds that Shankar has a “virunthu” (feast) in store for Jozi featuring full main courses, vegetable sides and dessert for Kyalami.

The much hyped promise was that: "The menu will showcase the rich diversity of Malaysian Tamil cuisine, including Kulambhu, Varuval, Peratal, Poriyal, and Kootu - each dish deeply rooted in tradition and flavour."

We were keen to beat the booked out event. Our delightful Malaysian host detoured from his other guests to drive us through hectic traffic to the north of the island passing the hundreds of Thai poosam pandals being set up and over a brand new bridge to the vast land mass reclaimed from the sea where Fire has made its home. Reservations are essential. We opted for the 8pm sitting for two hours since the lunch slot was full.

The traditional Tamil feast served on banana leaves comes with unlimited refills of a variety of curries, vegetables, rice, pickles, appalam and a bit more.

The spicy chicken, mutton biryani and complex brinjal servings were my pick of the array. At RM69 or close to R300 per head, the restaurant is on the upper end by Malaysian measures. Add to that the divine fresh toddy at RM9, a 10% service charge and it's decent bill for three.

As someone who relished the meal, I found the flavours layered and intense. The curries had depth from well-balanced spices including oodles of cinnamon, cardamom, star anise and mustard.

The vegetables other than the delectable brinjals were not the best choices out of the morning market. The potatoes were hard which for Durbanites spoilt with gravy soakers and melting moments, was a just short of a deal-breaker.

The overall progression of tastes from the tangy relish to ghee-drenched biryani felt harmonious and comforting in that classic "home-cooking" way Shankar stresses on his social media feeds.

The refills meant exploring combinations without restraint, and small touches like the chutneys and sides added welcome variety. It must be a tough call for the kitchen serving four sittings on a Sunday and one suspects that the last sitting might have got the bottom of the pots.

One of my companions was unhappy that the mutton in the biryani was hard when it should have been falling off the bone. Man Crush felt that his initial serving arrived cold. The server dutifully went back to the kitchen for the second helping.

For me, Fire captured the soul of a proper Sunday sappadu with enough refinement to make it special. My two companions felt the portions and pacing leaned heavier on tradition than bold innovation, with some dishes registering as "good but not exceptional" compared to other Tamil eateries in Penang where expectations for spice, heat, or standout flavours run riot.

One noted that while everything was competent and tasty, nothing particularly "wowed" them enough to justify the price point over more casual spots.

The charming manager and attentive service staff were warm and efficient and the overall vibe was relaxed (except the barking dogs from the establishment next door). One expected the restaurant to be filled to the brim but for some reason there were several empty tables, perhaps on account of the Thai poosam fasting spell.

It is quite evident that Chef Shankar has put great care into creating and tweaking his dishes against the great heritage of South Indian cuisine. Gentle table signals reflect one's appreciation of the experience. At the end of the meal, I folded the banana leaf toward me. My companions flipped it the other way. They would have liked to have chatted with Shankar but he left an hour before our reservation and sent a text saying that he had to honour another meeting. Johannesburg, one expects is in for a treat.

A little birdie whispered that there might be a quick Durban stop but don't hold me to that.

Kiru Naidoo is an occasional columnist on an extended stay in Asia researching his next book.

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