INDIAN DINING : A Sampler of regional restaurants from a subcontinent of vast variety

Now that we can get puchkas , vadas and shrikhand in Los Angeles, our Indian restaurants will never be the same. Until recently, regional Indian foods like these were pretty hard to find. The average Indian menu--practically interchangeable from one restaurant to the next--had a touristy, pan-regional mix of the subcontinent’s most popular dishes. But a recent wave of Indian immigration has brought with it a demand for more authentic regional foods and eating places.

In India, as any traveler who’s ever eaten the local food will tell you, restaurants aren’t likely to mix the cuisines of disparate regions. In the north you’ll find kebabs and tandoori breads, in the south and west a range of vegetarian dishes, while in Madras, Goa and Bengal, seafood is king.

Here in Los Angeles, we can probably get a larger variety of regional dishes than the average Indian living in that country will ever encounter. What follows are the best places to sample them and a guide to what you’ll find when you get there.

THE SOUTH:

Along the shores in the southern part of India’s coastline the seafood is magnificent. But the mainstay in this primarily vegetarian area is dal with rice and rice with dal ( dal is beans and lentils).

If the combination sounds monotonous, a meal at Madhu’s Dasaprakash in Cerritos dispels that notion. Generations of ingenious Indian cooks have turned these lowly staples into a wildly diverse assortment of dumplings, cakes, crepes, fritters and porridge--each with its own textures and tastes. And Dasaprakash prepares the widest (and best) selection of all.

There are seven types of crepes and pancakes, made with varied batters and fillings. Rava dosai , a semolina pancake, plain or flecked with onions, has a character completely different from uttappam , a lentil pancake, which comes with either tomato or onion. And pessret , a wafer-thin, light green lentil-and-fresh-chile crepe, is the best example of South India’s love affair with hot, spicy food (which reputedly stimulates the liver).

With the pancakes and most every other dish, you are served Dasaprakash’s sambhar , a slightly creamy lentil puree textured with whole lentils and tomatoes, then enhanced with the sharp tastes of tamarind and fresh chile. Three dazzling chutneys, including coconut, refreshing mint and sweet-hot tamarind, give each bite of the dal- and-rice combination even more variety.

But pancakes are only one category of Dasaprakash’s offerings. Bondas , a kind of fried dumpling, come in half a dozen varieties. Dasaprakash’s black lentil Mysore bondas are puffy and almost spongecake-like--in the wrong hands these can turn into paperweights. Six kinds of fritters called pakoras and bhajias include the addicting cashew pakoras , dipped in a spiced chickpea flour called besan and fried tempura-style. And of the vadai , or lentil-flour fritters, my favorite is medhu vadai , dappled with onion and green chiles.

You will not find the fragrant basmati rice here--that’s a Northern specialty--but Dasaprakash prepares rice in half a dozen ways. Try the lemon rice gently flecked with chile or puliyodarai , a rice dish flavored with tamarind and studded with peanuts. With all these, the refreshing salty lassi is the best drink. Like wine, it cleanses the palate.

Madhu’s Dasaprakash, 11321 East 183rd St., Cerritos, (213) 924-0879. Lunch and dinner daily.

Paru’s in Hollywood introduced Los Angeles to Southern Indian food in the late ‘70s. Its masala dosai , a crisp sourdough rice-and-lentil crepe, stuffed with potato curry and rolled into a cylinder the size of a small baseball bat, gained such a wide following that Paru’s has opened two more branches in West Los Angeles and Northridge. Other vegetarian specialties here include idli-- steamed round cakes made from pounded rice that Indians love for breakfast--and an Italianized (if you can imagine this) tomato uttappam with mozzarella cheese that resembles Indian pizza. As at Dasaprakash, you eat these (except for the pizza) with sambhar and coconut chutney.

Paru’s vegetable curries--whether cauliflower, mushroom or eggplant--are made with the typical Southern “wet” masalas as their flavoring base. For these, spices are pounded with fresh garlic, ginger and cilantro leaves. Northern cooks, on the other hand, usually roast spices for their “dry” masalas.

Paru’s, 5410 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood, (213) 661-7600. Lunch and dinner Wednesday-Monday. 9340 Pico Blvd., Los Angeles, (213) 273-8088. Lunch and dinner Tuesday-Sunday. 9545 Reseda Blvd., Northridge, (818) 349-3546. Lunch and dinner Wednesday-Monday.

THE WEST:

The Southern grain-and- dal vegetarian meal is really basic to all Indian cuisines, right up to the borders of the northern states. I say this at the risk of offending many Indians, because the country has many distinct variations on the rice-and- dal theme. Two of these, Kathiawari- and Surati-style cooking, belong to the Western state of Gujarat, home of Mahatma Gandhi and the Jain religion.

Diwana Restaurant, in San Gabriel, is the only place I know to serve both. And the restaurant’s Gujarati thali is the best way to get acquainted with Kathiawari or Jain-style food. It’s a complete meal on a large metal tray, with foods arranged in a prescribed order around a fragrant heap of basmati rice. There will be roti (a tortilla-like whole-wheat flat bread) and a vegetable fritter. Metal cups called katoris hold two vegetable curries and a dal , which change daily. You might find curries of green beans, eggplant, black-eyed peas or mustard greens--dishes rarely seen in Northern- or Southern-style restaurants.

Jains avoid eating garlic, onions and other vegetables that grow underground (for fear of harming insects when the foods are harvested). But Kathiawari cooks supplant those flavors by blending sharp, fruity tamarind or lime with jaggery , a palm sugar. The food has a slightly sweet tartness with the underlying notes of gentle chile heat and spices. Even the yellow tur dal , thicker and milder than the southern sambhar , has a customary Gujarati pinch of sugar.

But it’s the left side of the thali-- the spot reserved for the pickles, chutneys and raitas-- upon which discerning Indians base their opinion of such a meal. Diwana’s cook and co-owner, Premila Khetani, creates five or six imaginative homemade pickles and chutneys almost every day. The lemon rind chutney with long red peppers in a sweet base was one of the most extraordinary.

Another of julienned carrots and whole green chiles would be reserved for non-Jain customers. Diwana does bear non-Jains in mind: Don’t be surprised to find onions in some dishes listed on the a la carte side of the menu.

And don’t leave without trying shrikhand , a saffron-infused condensed yogurt dessert, so rich it almost seems like a sweet mayonnaise.

Diwana Restaurant, 1381 E. Las Tunas Drive., San Gabriel, (818) 287-8743. Lunch and dinner Monday-Saturday.

Sabra’s, on Pioneer Boulevard near Cerritos’ Little India, offers the Surati-style food of Gujarat, with all the underground vegetables allowed. Its Gujarati dhokla , an item popular all over India, is a steamed savory besan flour cake that looks much like corn bread sprinkled with mustard seeds and fresh coriander.

Sabra’s turns the humble potato into pettis-- ethereally fluffy puffs stuffed with seasoned fresh coconut and deep-fried so there’s just the thinnest crisp crust surrounding the soft interior. An unstuffed version of these potato balls called batata bonda is great for dipping into the selection of chutneys. For a contrast, try dahi vada (it’s not specifically Surati), a dumpling made of ground chickpeas floating in a pool of the freshest yogurt. What gives this dish its punch is the fresh coriander, tiny crunchy mustard seeds and cayenne pepper swirled over the top.

You can see the North’s influence on Gujarati food in Sabra’s thali , a meal as good as its savories. The Northern basmati rice at its center comes with a little cup of clarified butter called ghee to pour over it. Use a puri , that puffy fried wheat bread, to scoop up the robust vegetable curry. The accompanying tur dal , though, is typically Gujarati with a pinch of sugar and hing (a garlic-like resin known in English as asafoetida). Alongside these main items come pappadams with coconut chutney and sweet lemon rind pickle.

Sabra’s, 15710 Pioneer Blvd., Norwalk, (213) 589-6548. Lunch and dinner Tuesday-Sunday. Another place that serves food similar to Sabra’s is Jay Bharat, 18701 Pioneer Blvd., Artesia, (213) 924-3310. Lunch and dinner Tuesday-Sunday.

Farsan means snacks. All over Gujarat and Bombay, vendors sell snacks from farsan stalls; they fill paper cones with seasoned crunchy tidbits called chevdas. These include spicy roasted garbanzos, bhel (rice puffs) and sev ( besan flour noodles). There are also “chips” made from spiced, grated potatoes and chakri , a light pretzel-shaped fried dough.

All of these are available at Surati Farsan Mart in Little India, a rather Spartan snack shop that constantly plays Indian rock music cassettes. Here, chevdas are combined with vegetables and yogurt to make salad-like snacks called chat. Chat may sound like a recipe for health food, but they are every bit as habit-forming as tortilla chips with salsa.

One chat , pani puri , is tiny, paper-thin puffed breads ready to be filled with a little potato, some beans, a dash of tamarind chutney and a dark mysterious minty liquid before being popped into your mouth. Pani puri are eaten throughout India (they’re called puchkas in Bengal), but the Surati style uses mung beans rather than garbanzos, and there’s a touch of hing in the minty water.

Subtleties like these make all the difference to Indians, and that’s why the barfi-- that unfortunately named fudgy milk candy--is so special here. It has more texture and isn’t as sweet as the smoother Bengali style sold elsewhere. Surati Farsan Mart makes three kinds, including my favorite with roasted coconut.

Other Surati Mart sweets include mohanthal , a bright-yellow, nutmeg-flavored cake made from besan flour and sprinkled with almonds. Magaj , another besan cake, is fried as crunchy as praline and perfumed with vanilla and cardamom. And there are penda (little besan cakes that look like shaped spritz cookies).

Surati Farsan Mart, 11814 E. 186th St., Artesia, (213) 860-2310. Lunch and dinner Tuesday-Sunday.

THE EAST AND BEYOND:

The part of Bengal around Calcutta on India’s East Coast is a tropical, river-laced area where rice is the staple and freshwater-fish curries are the glory of the cuisine.

Bengal gets its epithet Sonar Bangla (Golden Bengal) from the mustard that carpets its fields. And people from both parts of historic Bengal--Bangladesh and the neighboring province of India called Bengal--cook fish in mustard oil and season it with fiery masalas of mustard seed and chile. Coconut milk is another popular curry ingredient.

But the traveler to this region will have difficulty sampling such local specialties. Bengali restaurant culture is limited mostly to urban tea wallahs , snack shops and office workers’ lunch stands; a good Bengali meal will likely be found only in someone’s home. So it’s not surprising that in spite of Los Angeles’ love affair with fish, this cuisine hasn’t come of age here. I did manage, though, to find at least a few dishes to represent the region.

Bengal Tiger in Van Nuys appears at first to be just another nice, all-purpose Indian restaurant. It does a few tandoori dishes--definitely not the kitchen’s strength--and features curries named for every region of India. That these may be ordered either with lamb or beef, though, is revealing. Cows, as everyone knows, are sacred in India, at least among Hindus. But in Muslim Bangladesh, beef is perfectly acceptable (although they don’t raise much cattle for meat).

Meat Bengal, a dish with all the earmarks of Bengali cooking, is thick with whole lentils and vegetables in its sauce, unlike Northern-style all-meat curries. The restaurant’s lone Bengali fish curry also comes with vegetables--chunks of tomato and potato--in its peppery russet sauce. And another infrequently seen Bengali dish, dal bahar , is hard-cooked eggs smothered in creamy lentil curry.

Bengal Tiger does have some serious flaws. The chutney, which you are charged extra for, resembles a gooey green jam, and the flabby tandoori nan is like an Indian version of Wonder Bread.

Bengal Tiger, 14062 Burbank Blvd., Van Nuys, (818) 787-8488. Lunch and dinner daily.

Though Salomi Indian and Bangladesh Restaurant, in North Hollywood, calls itself an Indian and Bangladeshi restaurant, its excellent food puts only a slight emphasis on the cooking of that region. Breads, for example, are the usual northern naan and paratha , but there’s no luchi (a specialty bread of the Bengali-Bangladeshi repertoire).

Salomi does have a few Eastern dishes seldom seen elsewhere. A delicious chicken Bengal with its hard-cooked egg garnish and typical vegetables in the gravy is one. Another, the region’s dal tarka , is topped with a saute of garlic, onion and those famous mustard seeds. The only Bengali seafoods on Salomi’s menu are shrimp and shrimp patia ; another curry cooked with chopped vegetables and lentils had a tart and gently sweet taste. Other shrimp dishes were a familiar, multi-regional selection including shrimp Madras and an ever-popular Goan shrimp vindaloo.

Salomi Indian and Bangladesh Restaurant, 5225 Lankershim Blvd., North Hollywood, (818) 506-0130. Lunch Monday-Friday; dinner seven days.

THE NORTH:

More than any region in India, the Northwest has borrowed from a succession of invaders and immigrants. Kashmiri cooks were the first in India to use the Near Eastern clay tandoor oven, and the Punjab has adopted many Muslim meat dishes. Throughout the years the foreign dishes have incorporated Indian spicing.

The North’s most opulent style, Moghlai cuisine, was purloined from Persian royalty by India’s Moghul rulers. Most Moghlai restaurants prepare simple grills in the tandoor , but many dishes are sautees rich with cream, butter, nuts and raisins. And the sweets of the Northwest are lavishly decorated with thin, edible sheets of silver.

At Bundoo Khan, a Pakistani restaurant on Vermont, the cooking also bridges both cultures--Pakistan having been part of India’s North before it became an independent Islamic state. Some of the best dishes here are the beef grills, made with halal beef, meaning it has been butchered according to Islamic dietary laws. As in the Middle East, the grills are served with cucumbers and radishes to munch on, and as in India, you eat them with dal.

Succulent seekh kebab (skewered minced beef mixed with Indian spices), boti kebab (chunks of marinated beef grilled), and shami kebab, a patty of ground beef and lentils flecked with hot fresh chiles, are but a few beef dishes. There’s more than beef here, though. Charga chicken--halved Cornish game hen marinated in Indian spiced yogurt--is splendidly juicy.

Wheat, and therefore bread, is a staple throughout the North and Bundoo Kahan offers several types. Handkerchief bread, the size of a huge scarf, comes warm and slightly crisp from the giant tawa or convex grill on which it has been baked. (It’s simply called chapati on the menu.)

Bundoo Khan Restaurant, 116 S. Vermont Ave., Los Angeles, (213) 380-7574. Lunch and dinner daily.

Peacock, a comfortable banquette-lined restaurant in Diamond Bar, has a fine array of Punjabi grills with enough Moghlai specialties to compare both cuisines. Shahi korma , lamb chunks in an absolutely voluptuous nut- and raisin-laced cream sauce, is the epitome of Moghlai richness; its spicing is complex but not hot.

Game was favored at the Moghlai court, and Peacock has a dish of marinated quail called tandoori bateer . The birds remain moist despite the volcanic heat they have endured. Rice dishes such as biriyanis and pillaus can also exhibit the Moghlai richness, especially Peacock’s vegetable pillau cooked with nuts and saffron.

Unlike many other tandoori restaurants, Peacock does not dye any of its tandoori meats with lurid red color. A good one is barra kebab, a whole marinated chicken breast infused with a simple but lively blend of fresh garlic and ginger.

Despite the prominence of Northern meat dishes on Indian menus in this country, meat is expensive in India, and many Northerners, especially women, are vegetarians, whether by necessity or choice. Peacock, therefore, offers a long list of vegetable dishes. Two that flaunt the subtle yet complex spicing of Northern cooking are mushroom matar, a smooth creamy sauce brimming with lightly sauteed mushrooms, and an aromatic roasted eggplant bharta.

Indians use their bread to pick up morsels of food, so Northern sauces are thick--often almost dry. But you’ll want to eat Peacock’s garlic naan by itself. It is silky, yeasty and sprinkled with little bits of sweet roasted garlic.

Peacock, 23347 E. Golden Springs Road, Diamond Bar, (714) 860-0022. Lunch Sunday-Friday; dinner seven days.

Tandoori chefs at the new Clay Pit in Chapman Market work behind a glass partition thrusting long iron skewers of kebabs down into the center of the oven and shaping bread dough before deftly slapping it to the tandoor’s side to bake. The Clay Pit’s Punjabi-style cooking, though steeped in ancient tradition, has a bright California twist to it. Some items are pure invention: The Clay Pit salad (strips of tandoori- baked chicken tikka scattered over a bed of greens) is sprinkled with a bit of vinaigrette (or yogurt dressing). There’s also a marinated mesquite tandoori sirloin steak and a rack of baby lamb, both beautifully rare.

The Clay Pit hasn’t ignored traditional dishes, and they do these equally well. Chicken makhani , first seared in the tandoor then finished in a fresh tomato sauce, is but one example. And roghan josh , a rich Kashmiri-style lamb dish (Kashmiri food is similar to Moghlai), simmered in several types of masala added at different stages of the cooking, is the ultimate test of a skilled northern cook.

Clay Pit, 3465 West 6th St., No. 110, Los Angeles, (213) 382-6300. Lunch and dinner daily.

Additional research for this article was contributed by Mira Advani .