A story of origins unfolds at Flour Restaurant this season as Chef Yogesh Upadhyay marries an introspection of his motherland and rigorous attention to provenance.
The northwestern Indian state of Rajasthan, where the chef’s parents still live, translates to ‘Land of Kings’ and is renowned for its rich culture, royal tradition, and legacy in gemstones. This influence is evident throughout the menu, from its design, evocative of grand gem-studded Rajasthani doors, to its very spirit.
Diners who surrender themselves to the unknown are led on a most unusual journey through the drylands of 6th-century Rajasthan. Before the arrival of irrigation, when the arid climate denied the people lush vegetation, they turned to fruit bushes, root vegetables, game, and livestock for sustenance. Where sweetness, savouriness and spice could not be naturally invoked, they were conjured to elicit pleasure in a limited spread.
Although Chef Yogesh Upadhyay (or Yogi, to his friends) retains the traditional names of heritage dishes, they are interpreted through the global palates and trade routes of today. Consider Kachori, for example: a humble deep-fried snack from the city of Bikaner. At Flour Restaurant, it sits in onion cream to temper the heat and bite of fiercely spiced moong lentils and the prickly brine of Iranian caviar.
Pickling was a common preservation technique of the time, but the restaurateur’s dislike of its oily acidity and harsh flavours inspired the reinterpretation of Achar as a beautiful scallop tartare. Scotland’s plumpest mollusks are enlivened with Greek cheese and kalamata olives, Spanish leeks, and Moroccan capers. Each spoonful tingles with creaminess and zest, further teased by the effervescence of Maison Roche de Bellene’s Cremant de Bourgogne Brut Cuvee.
Yes, you want the wine pairing, each label precisely picked to complement and contrast as needed. In the Jaisamand Ki Machli, featuring steamed black cod, beurre blanc and eggplant, French techniques and Indian inspiration meet a crisp chardonnay; with Lal Maas, the tango of spice-rubbed charcoal grilled venison and sweet, mellow papaya jam is emphasised by a round and ripe pinot noir.
On the plates at Flour Restaurant, each dish is almost a dance: a challenge is issued; acquiescence is withheld, then given. Tension and harmony play throughout, like in the Jalebi Fafda, a savoury and sugary mouthful with the gentle heat of “wasabi from the mountains where water never stops flowing”, as Chef Yogi poetically shares. Naturally, only the best ingredients are sourced – “If it cannot be traced, it cannot be touched,” he says.
This is not the food consumers are used to from the Indian subcontinent, but an emphatic subversion of it. For instance, Ker Sangri, a hot dish of wild beans and berries, is reimagined as a cold salad with berries puree, feta cheese and yoghurt, a nod to the dairy that quenched thirst when wells and rivers ran dry. And forget what you know about roasted duck; when you slice through duck breast in the Saféd Maas, Chef Yogi might invite you to the kitchen to prove that only gas stoves and ovens are to be credited for that pink succulence, not a sous vide machine.
Over 10 courses, the degustation menu celebrates the crescendos and diminuendos of sugar and spice. You can trust the finale is fittingly flamboyant. Rabri, a common condensed milk dessert in Rajasthan, sees a meringue yield under the rich creaminess of fresh milk fragranced with cinnamon, saffron and cardamom, and flambéed Drambuie liqueur.
If you crave familiar flavours that transport you to a matriarch’s home, this isn’t for you. But for the intrepid diner willing to open their mind and palate, Flour promises to stretch the traditional notions of Indian cuisine and to find the flavours of the future.
The Rajasthan menu is priced at RM620 per person, with wine pairing at an additional RM395. Vegetarians can partake in the Mother Earth menu, an equally inventive feast priced at RM420 per person, with another RM355 for wine.
