Spiceberry revisit: Keralan restaurant, Caroline St, Cardiff

Food bloggers. What's the point, eh?

Ask ten, from established to newbie, and you'd get a similar number of interpretations. You might be in it for the freebies (whatever floats your boat I suppose...) or for a fillip to the ego as you are recognised in a restaurant or your advice sought. You might do it out of a desire to do something vaguely creative away from your workday drudgedesk, a little piece of something for yourself that you hope others might enjoy or find informative or useful or diverting.

At its most useful (and let's face it, no-one is rescuing infants from a burning orphanage, finding an antidote for Ebola or discovering a cure for Noel Edmonds) it's your everyday Joe and Josephine Schmo finding somewhere they love to eat- somewhere they might even believe in- and trying to convey that enthusiasm, that passion to curious strangers. Because it's a tough game for these places, surviving in the restaurant business, and spreading the word about somewhere new you've found, something different- some alternative to the chains and brands that tower over the local landscape- can be a genuine pleasure. Knowing that someone has taken a punt on your recommendation, and had a really good meal as a result, is what makes it worthwhile. If you need an example, consider the startling success of HangFire Smokehouse: it's certainly worth considering that word of mouth (real and virtual) was instrumental in letting people know not only how damn good it is, but that it even exists- and not via Twitter saturation or smugly self-promotional posts, but in large part due to the Gourmet Gorro blog. (I am reliably informed that during that crucial start-up phase, fully 70% of all visitors were there because they had read his review) and by word spreading organically, osmotically, naturally.

Which brings me (once again) neatly to Pramod Nair's cooking at Spiceberry in Cardiff city centre.

I make no bones about the fact I think Spiceberry is shamefully under-known in Cardiff. The food is just so damn good. If that sounds bullish, you'll have to indulge me. Because the food on offer here is food that deserves to be celebrated.

Forget the location. Forget the down-at-heel image Caroline Street has acquired- and cultivated- for years. After all, I doubt Purple Poppadom's site is your idea of chic, is it? Yet people rightly flock there because the food is so consistently excellent. Renowned, even. Which is as it should be: Anand George is special. (I had never seen a room full of guests rise to their feet to applaud a chef's work until The Welsh Curry Awards a few months ago). So it genuinely baffles me why Spiceberry isn't full. Perhaps the menu is too single-minded, too stripped-back, too unfamiliar: on two occasions I have seen diners enter, scan the menu, and stalk back down the steps within minutes without trying a forkful.

What gives? Is it the absence of the old comfortingly curry house tropes that mystifies and alienates? No quarter tandoori chicken? No lamb and spinach balti, no peshwari naan, no mushroom rice? I'm guessing of course: but if I'm right, theirs is an attitude which truly perplexes. There is clearly nothing 'wrong' with any of those old stand-byes of course; they are classic Friday night foil tray staples. But this is eating out; this is cooking with a passion, traditional, handed-down-through-the-family recipes alongside others inspired by travel. This isn't 'fusion' but a skilful presentation of memories of Malabar, Kerala. Home. And it somehow pains me that some people wouldn't give that a chance, because they're missing out.

Anyway. The food.

Pappadums were excellent- fragile, almost- and the chutneys a beguiling hint of what was to follow; red onion and tomato, another of sour carrot and lastly an initially cooling yet stealthily hot beetroot accompaniment.

My wife's starter was essentially a doughnut in a broth. A fluffy, soft lentil doughnut seasoned with cumin and ginger that is, in a sour soup flavoured with garlic, mustard and (one of my very favourite flavours, this) tamarind. It was an instant hit.

There was only one starter I was going to go for. I have wibbled on about the duck starter (Thara Kuttanadan) in my original visit, and it stayed with me to the extent it made my 'Joy of Six' recently.

It's a standout dish. It's dark and thick and meaty and hot and everything I love. Truck Stop Chicken has a faintly bizarre ring to it. However, it's the chef's personal favourite and it's not hard to see why. Served on the bone (huzzah!) it is everything a curry should be. Deep and dark and fragrant and hot. It's the kind of food that has you silently wishing you could breathe through your ears, all the better to go face-down in it.

'Kanju Manga' didn't disappoint either: large prawns basked in a sauce of mango and coconut, their sweet, meaty flesh deftly complemented by a creamy, mild sauce similar to a moilee. Fat grains of Kerala rice were ideal. Sides of malabar paratha (layers of buttery, soft yet flaky bread were ideal for mopping up these remarkable sauces) and a thoran of shredded vegetables aromatic with mustard seed, grated coconut and curry leaf kept up the high standard.

My wife's main of Cheru Payar curry was heavy with curry leaf and green moong dahl (mung beans) with a lovely smoky smoothness of banana and that typically Keralan coconut. A family recipe passed down from chef's grandmother, this was comforting home-style cooking.

'Truck Stop Kozhi Fry' is an inriguing title for a personal favourite and recommendation of Chef Pramod. Served on the bone (huzzah!) it is apparently a dish heavy on preparation. A whole chicken is marinated with yoghurt, turmeric, ginger, lemon juice and garlic and jointed before slowly simmering its way to tenderness, before being finished in a thick, dry, spicy stew of curry leaf and red chillies to coat the meat- meat so soft it would fall apart with a stern glance. In a word- revelatory.

As an aside, I posted a picture on Instagram and quickly got the reply: 'One of my top curries of all time'.
I agreed. It's superb, and- going back a bit- it saddens me people miss out on this, for whatever reasons, because this is cooking from the heart.

 A dessert of 'Paal Katti Bisket'- a reimagined cheesecake with mango- was finished with powdered roasted rice and dark chocolate. I rarely eat desserts but this had me digging into my wife's dish once or twice.

Oh and here's the kicker: all of this comes out of a kitchen which is, to all intents and purposes, a one-man operation. That level of expertise impresses me. With a new menu launch imminent (having seen a preview, it is full of promise) Spiceberry deserves to go from strength to strength. Passionate, skilful cooking deserves to be shouted about, especially in a city still somewhat  understaffed by good options. So consider this my own little contribution to what should become a swell of noise.

As you were...