2024 update: The below review was written in 2022 and some menu items and offerings may have changed. We've since attended the restaurant for a hosted Mughlai-style set menu in winter 2023 as part of the restaurant's rotation of seasonal offerings, which we highly recommend.
Spoiler alert: you don’t enter via laundry anymore. The success of Helly Raichura’s tiny at-
home Box Hill restaurant has precipitated her move to more “serious” Carlton North digs,
although the laneway entrance retains the enticing air of mystery (as does finding out the
actual address only after booking).
But while the location has changed, the brief of one of Melbourne’s most singular
degustations remains the same: to explain and explore the food of her Indian heritage.
Not, the record should note, that it’s possible to condense the immense nation’s five
regions, 29 states and their myriad sub-groupings into anything approaching a single meal,
even one packing almost 20 dishes.
Hence the lengthy meal changing its focus seasonally. Winter was all about seafood-centric
Bengal and spring has seen a deep dive into the cuisine of Kashmir, the meat-heavy
northern region. As an added curveball, Raichura’s menu flirts with Australian native
ingredients, bringing the occasional introductions from the waiter about colonialisation and
globalisation into a local context.
Sound heavy? The communal table with its “dinner party at a friend’s home” vibes does its
bit to bring the pressure down (although there’s another room for more private dining, if
that’s your thing) and the offering of a pre-dinner drink loosens up the crowd before their
forced intimacy.
Highlights comes thick and fast. The standout is a dish known as matar masala tchot –
paperbark-smoked pea puree, desert lime and radish chutney, prettily crowned with edible
flowers. An upscale version of a popular Kashmiri street food, it’s usually wrapped in
flatbread, but here fresh broadbean leaves sit alongside as a crisp, fresh wrapping – a
revelation.
More street food comes in the form of tille karre, a puck of crisp-fried peas Aussie-fied with
a powdery lick of Davidson plum, and battered fried sardines with a mountain pepper
chaser.
The meal’s main salvo is the wazwan – a traditional Kashmiri shared meal or, in the EVL
context, “more food”. There’s a wodge of crisp-skinned Murray cod, all delicate warm spices
served with charry cubes of kohlrabi, and a puck of boneless chicken in paprika-spicy,
saffron-infused tomato sauce; goat and lamb make an appearance, too, but a simple rice-
based vegetarian dish deserves equal praise, the aged basmati boasting addictive qualities
when mixed with braised warrigal greens and crisp discs of fried lotus root.
Comparing EVL with other “fine dining” restaurants in Melbourne is a case of apples and
oranges. Its singularity extends to its size – just 20 covers a night – its furtive location and
the personal tales it tells. At $210 a head it’s certainly not cheap, but its appeal to a certain
diner – curious palate travellers, MasterChef fans, the communally minded – will justify the
expense to such a demi-monde. If that fits your description, give it a try. You’ll learn
something, eat delicious food – hell, you might even make new friends.