Mother's Malaysian recipes add intriguing flavor to New Haven

November 12, 2003|T. Susan Chang, Globe Correspondent

NEW HAVEN -- Not long ago, this city's only claim to culinary fame was its pizza. Thin-crust pies were introduced here by Neapolitan immigrants nearly a century ago, as I learned from Robin Goldstein, coauthor of a new dining guide to New Haven. A century later, much has changed. The Neapolitan pizzas are still worth writing about, but less than half a mile away, an upscale Southeast Asian restaurant is sharply redefining the city's dining scene.

Malaysian chef Jeff Ghazali presides over the kitchen at Bentara ("bentara" was the title given to the king's highest-ranking servant in Malaysia's pre-republic days). Those unfamiliar with Malaysian cuisine may be surprised at how recognizable it is. Spread on an equatorial curve along the old trade routes of the South China Sea, Malaysia has always been a natural site for the explosive mingling of Eastern and Western cultures. Traces of Chinese, Indonesian, Indian, Thai, Portuguese, Dutch, and British influence inform the work of Malay chefs, making theirs one of the most ancient colonial-fusion cuisines in the world.

Bentara's interior reflects this pan-Southeast Asian aesthetic. Shadow puppets behind rice paper line the walls, high rattan stools abut the bar; all around, you sense the heavy presence of carved and polished tropical hardwoods. Our party of five settled into a comfortable U-shaped booth to peruse what Goldstein and Clare Murumba's book, "The Menu," describes as "New Haven's best wine list." To enhance our decision-making, we sipped a couple of Bentara's signature fruit martinis: a tart green apple version and the ineffable purple Buddha, whose intensely floral blend of pineapple and raspberry sped the vodka to our heads.

We began our meal with piping hot roti murtabak, a type of ghee bread stuffed with spiced ground meat and onion. The sweet-sour red onion sauce so transformed the roti, we had to order more, while a curry sauce offered an irresistible savory counterpoint. Curried mussels, gently bathed in coconut milk, brought the Atlantic mollusk into a South Sea context to grand effect. The texture of a cold calamari salad was perfect, with the tiny, sambal-drenched rings still tender and showered with diced cucumber, tomato, and red onion -- proof, if we needed it, of the kitchen's commitment to high-end presentation.