When boredom and hectic work routines took their toll, the family and I decided to shake things up this Thursday evening, and try out the new Pakistani eatery recently opened in upscale Jinnah Super: Qishmisch.
Walking in, it cannot be denied, there is a wow factor. With big windows dominating two walls and a full mirror on the third, airy spaciousness is assured. A white clad violinist plucked chords in a corner, and a clear partition separated the kitchen.
My favourite thing about the ambiance was literally how well lit it was, without being glaring or uncomfortable. I know it doesn't sound like much, but it makes a huge difference. It gave the place a homely, welcoming feel and definite kudos to them for not falling to the frankly ridiculous and cliched standard of dim "mood lighting". Honestly, the only mood that inspires is depression.
It was pretty empty when we got there around 8.30, owing to the wintry downpour and it not being a weekend. We took our seats and were presented cute tiny menus in fuzzy purple binders, encouraging the homey experience.
Qishmisch's menu is varied with a very culturally strong desi ensemble. The breakfast options looked especially appetising (9am to 3pm). Nutella Lassi jumped out from the page, but on the side of caution no one ordered it. This time.
While we waited for our food, we were presented with quite an interesting appetiser: paparh with chutney. Most restaurants have adopted the nacho chips and salsa as the "hunger-pacer" and this desi tarka was a refreshing and interesting twist. Assorted paparh with imli (tamarind) and mint-yogurt chutneys were literally hard to put down, and were promptly polished off. Few of the paparh were a little damp though; at optimum crispiness, these could be my favourite new snack.
Within good serving time, our main course arrived: Murgh Makhni Handi (butter chicken) a BBQ platter, Nawabi Shorbah (gravy with light consistency), and assorted naan.
Starting with the Nawabi Shorbah: served in a soup bowl, its a light murgh yakhni (chicken broth), with shredded chicken bits and daal maash. An interesting blend to be sure, but I found the soup to be a bit on the watery side. The spices were quite suffused, which isn't a bad thing, given the nature of the soup, but a little more cooking to get the water element out would have been an improvement. The soup got better the deeper you got into the bowl as the flavours got stronger.
Onto the platter! We had an assortment of fish tikka, malai boti, chicken seekh kabab, and mutton chops. Overall the platter was underwhelming. The serving was pairs of each. The fish tikka lacked distinct flavour, the distinguishing taste of the fish itself was barely apparent. The malai boti was mild, again a little too low on spices. Chicken seekh kabab are inherently an abomination, no fault of the chef. The lamb chops were definitely the saving grace of the platter: soft and succulent and just the right amount of mild spices.
The Murgh Makhni was where all the lost spices ended up being. Chicken chunks cooked in a creamy butter gravy, usually eaten with naan or roti. I found the gravy to be a bit too spicy, and not in a fun way. When it comes to Pakistani food, you can have a lot of fun with spice levels. A spicy Nehari for example is literally finger-licking good. However, Murgh Makhni usually goes for a bit of a suffused mild taste, the emphasis being on the buttery, almost creamy, smooth texture of the gravy; the spiciness seemed misplaced. This Handi had my scalp sweating, but not in a way that was enjoyable.
The piece du resistance however, was the bread basket. The garlic naan were simply delectable. Piping hot, soft, fresh and perfectly glazed, they really pushed the boundary of what "just one more bite" means. My mother had the paratha and found it to be the perfect compliment to the meal as well.
There you have it! Overall the food, although good and savoury, was nothing outstanding or exceptional, especially when compared to the wide variety of desi restaurants in the city. However, the thing with desi food is that literally everyone has their own taste: what I find too mild, or too spicy, would fit the bill perfectly for someone else. These factors make putting down a definitive review all the more subjective and to be taken with a grain of salt.
Although the price point is on the higher end, the homey comfortable setting and the family-like atmosphere are definitely worth visiting Qishmisch.
The owner stopped by our table when we had finished our dinner. After my dad had had a friendly joust as to the correct spelling of the name, the owner revealed the reason for choosing the name in the first place:
Qishmisch (Urdu for raisins), leaves a lingering taste after eating, and he hoped that the flavour of his food would be as memorable.
Although the food didn't leave a very strong imrpession, the experience certainly did. I think I'll be seeing them again for breakfast sooner rather than later.
