Spice Boy: Dinner at Pasadena's Akbar Might Just Save This Marriage

When I think about the first meal I ever cooked for my Indian boyfriend, I still turn a deep shade of red. It was spaghetti with a cream sauce and shavings of fresh parmesan—delectable, I thought!—and I still remember the look of quiet horror on his face as he rolled the all-white meal around in his mouth. “Well . . . it’s not really want I’m used to,” he said, as he proceeded to scrape the heap of untouched noodles on his plate into the trashcan. “It was—how do you say this in English …” he added, searching for exactly the right word, “. . . bland.”

Turns out he was hoping for something spicier—quite. I rose to the challenge and the following week purchased a Madhur Jaffrey cookbook, a braid of garlic and about a pound of onions. A few days later, I stood in the kitchen of our Hong Kong apartment for most of an afternoon, chopping tomatoes, measuring out tablespoons of saffron-hued spices and stirring a pot full of bubbling chickpeas (channas).

At seven that evening, my boyfriend appeared at our front door, clutching his hand to his chest, breathless from the run up the stairs. “From outside the building I could smell the channas,” he said, panting. Yes, the dish was a success. How good were those chickpeas? We got engaged soon after (and we’ve since been married for 11 years).

Over the years, I’ve manage to add a few Subcontinental dishes to my repertoire: A five-spice deep-fried fish (which we like to serve with corn tortillas, red cabbage and mango chutney) and daal (lentils), which we dole out into Tupperware lunch-sized portions to all the teachers, past and present, at my daughter’s school. But most fundamentally, I have mastered the fine art of making morning chai, with its hand-grated ginger (which, being an overscheduled American, I usually just chop into slices and throw into the boiling water) and its layers of flavor: black tea, cardamom, white pepper, honey.

Hong Kong was lined with great Indian dives and sumptuous restaurants, places where we could indulge a barbecued-paneer fix any time of day or night. So when we moved from Asia to Los Angeles, land of diversity and great food, I was praying we’d stumble onto a terrific Indian eatery. It wasn’t so easy. We spent several years making due with cobbled-together curries whose onions were sloppily, insultingly chopped, and substandard samosas whose fillings were devoid of any love. All the while my husband was growing more homesick—food-sick?—with each passing year.

Finally, a few years ago, we stumbled upon Akbar Cuisine of India in Pasadena. It’s a city that is not exactly a hotbed of sari and kurta-clad citizens, but it looked like a nice place, so we gave it a try. We sat by a picture window, across from the open kitchen— a festive show of high flames and fresh naan being pummeled and baked in the tandoor. (Warning: The front-row seat came with a price. By the end of dinner, our hair reeked of garam masala and vegetable oil.)

We started our meal with samosas ($5.50), which were delicate and balanced in taste, if a little on the small side. My husband also sniffed that such treats are typically served at teatime but that didn’t keep him from devouring three. He then ordered up a storm of dishes, all served in small silver bowls (again, slightly meager servings). The naan was impeccably prepared—fluffy on the top side, crisp on the bottom. My daughter loves the cheese naan, which is stuffed with cream cheese and cheddar—a great fusion of east and west. The Akbari Kofta ($9.95) is a dish of potato balls served in a delightful korma sauce, concocted from crushed cashews. The daal (lentils) is best when yellow, not black (check with your server about the daal of the day before ordering).

The saag paneer (spinach and Indian-style cottage cheese) had firm homemade cubes of Indian cheese (skip the tofu version) and the creamed spinach has just the right blend of spices while going lightly on the sodium. I love the tandoori chicken, served on a sizzling plate with a squeeze of lemon and a healthy sprinkling of coriander. Our must-order dish, however, is the tandoori sea bass, which is lightly spiced and cooked just this side of done. At about $24 (market price) for a palm-sized serving, it’s a little pricey, but we have it on every special occasion. Sometimes the servers are a bit overburdened—too many customers to cater to during peak dinner hours—and thus a bit too aggressive about clearing off your table. But having said that, we’ve never had a bad meal at Akbar’s.

Lunch is a great time to give this restaurant a try: It’s then that Akbar’s offers great specials, curries, lentils, salad and naan served on traditional silver thali trays (at about $9.95 to $12.95, lunch is a super deal).

But we like dinner at Akbar’s. Just make sure you make a reservation, and ask for a window seat. It’s fun to people watch as Pasadenans make their way to Old Town. And the restaurant’s two-hour parking validation gives us enough time to roam around the nearby shops for a little while. Sign up for Akbar’s birthday club and you’ll get a coupon for one free entrée on your special day. I’m just grateful to have a local Indian restaurant that serves food my husband loves—keeps him from grumbling about missing his mother, and her cooking.

Next visit, I’m going  to try some of Akbar’s fusion offerings, such as Mint Wahoo Kabab ($15.95) or something on the high end of Akbar’s clever “chili meter,” such as spicy tandoori grilled chicken wings ($6.95)—maybe then my husband and I will forge our culinary memories of Subcontinental food in America.

Akbar Cuisine of India, 44 N. Fair Oaks Ave., Pasadena 91103, 626-577-9916