Many Bangkok denizens have a conflicted relationship with Indian cuisine. It’s too smelly. It’s too weird or too rich. Even those who favor a fat samosa, greasy chicken tikka masala or syrupy gulab jamun prefer cheap take-out or the more pedestrian options around Nana to dropping a couple grand for fine South Asian dining.
On the other hand, Indian food seems to have a complicated relationship with itself. In terms of concept, there is little wiggle room so trashy diners and culinary institutions serve many of the same dishes: yellow dal, black dal, biryani, butter chicken, palak paneer, etc. A new Indian place—particularly one on the fancy side—has to compete for a small market of expats and Thai-Indians with disposable incomes by reassuring them that they’ll get something unavailable either at home or any other Indian restaurant.
Enter Maya, an Indian fine-dining restaurant that, a few shortcomings aside, delivers. The top floor of a Holiday Inn may be an unlikely spot for the newest contender, but this place has been getting a lot of attention. The folks running it clearly are out to recast the mould. Stepping off the elevator immediately finds clear indicators they might be succeeding. On the right is a glass-enclosed kitchen displaying not only cooks but three gleaming, barrel-like tandoor ovens and a temperature-controlled cabinet holding an array of meat skewers. Open kitchens may be de rigueur for all trendy new eateries, but they are a rare feature at Indian restaurants. The interior signals a more restrained and toned-down approach to the otherwise ubiquitous red drapery, Mughal paintings and gold threads. In the center sits a recessed lounge, with a prominent free-standing bar, loads of armchairs and a live DJ station. The L-shaped dining area around it feels like a classy lovechild between a Mughal entourage and S&M party. Picture black and grey carpeting; curved, copper chain-link dividers around each booth; and beige mesh shades on the overhead chandeliers.
Of course, none of that means anything without the food. At first glance, the menu looks promising. Yes, there’s the yellow dal—cleverly called Awadhi Dal—and the black dal—Dal Maya—and other classics, but the selection is peppered with intriguing touches and coastal regional twists, a welcome challenge to the North Indian hegemony. The sarson salmon tikka marinates a Norwegian fish in a mustard seed and chili sauce then grills it in a tandoor. On the subject of regionally-inspired seafood, I was also won over by their gunpowder-crusted Scottish scallops. The gunpowder is not the kind you put in a musket, but refers instead to a South Indian chili powder. The scallops are not the massive pucks from Hokkaido but instead creamy and sweet buttons cooked with a light touch. Be warned though that the dish is balanced and subtle, so it is a mistake to mix it up with rice or roll it up in a piece of naan. The vegetarian options are far from condescending, too. The anjeer kofta (fit and cottage cheese dumplings in a saffron and cardamom sauce) is rich and delicious, and the sweet fig and earthy sauce play well together. The aloo moti tikki is a nice variation on the much-beloved and greasy Indian street snack of pan-fried spiced potato patties. The version here mixes the texture up with tiny sago pearls. It’s worth mentioning here that where lesser places give you little more than bowls of generic green chutney and pickled onions, Maya does a great job pairing its dishes with an array of sauces and chutneys. The Norwegian salmon is rounded out nicely with a Bengali-style prawn and mustard chutney. The scallops come with coconut, tomato and coriander sauces. And the aloo moti tikki becomes a party in your mouth with the addition of a crunchy radish salad and a tamarind chutney.
Where Maya gets wobbly is in the desserts department. It’s here that the innovation doesn’t always succeed. I know everyone has gushed over it, but I’m not into gulab jamun cheesecake. While it’s admirable to exclude a traditional gulab jamun from its dessert menu, and considering how the rose-water-redolent and grainy jamuns complicate the texture of cheesecake, any Indian will tell you it should be melt-your-face-off hot. The rasmalai and dark chocolate terrine have a similar issue—great on paper, but the sweet cottage cheese can’t hold up to the dark chocolate. Fortunately there are a couple more traditional gems such as the remember-your-childhood aromatic kesar phirnee (saffron infused basmati rice pudding) and the hard-to-find shrikhand, here served as a jazzy medley of shooter-sized yoghurts, flavored with almond, pistachio and rose, mango and blueberry.
All in all, there is plenty new and different at Maya, and most of it works on the plate as much as it does on the page. I’m definitely going back to try their morel and button mushrooms in cashewnut gravy and their tandoori lobster with kaffir lime and yellow chilli. But is anyone going to come with me? Or are you really happy with indigestion-inducing take-out?
Holiday Inn, Sukhumvit Soi 22
Between BTS Asok and Phrom Phong
