Restaurant review: North Indian food beyond dal makhani and butter chicken at the Loya, Taj Palace

We are greeted at the door by quintessential Taj hospitality, of big namastes and even bigger smiles, before our host Sunil ji comes bearing two small glass vials of jal jeera. He then walks us to our table, but not before a quick tour of the interiors, pointing out interesting facets along the way.

Loya, at its heart, is typically what we associate with or group together as ‘North Indian’, without being overpoweringly so. The aesthetics of the interiors too reflect this essence, as a grand entrance leads you into a kaleidoscopic lounge and dining area, all set against a backdrop of a distinctive bar courtyard, sculpted with natural rocks and accentuated by a gurgling waterfall.

Colours pop everywhere you see—from multihued upholstery and cushions, drapes and overhead canopies, artworks and awnings. Yet, somehow, none of it feels loud or garish; the neutrality of the sandy beige walls balances it out. The intricate motifs and stone jaalis are a nod to the architectural traditions of the royal north, while filigreed copper lanterns lend the feeling of being in a bazaar of yore.

The logwood furniture with copper embellishments is reminiscent of the Indian khatia and peeda. For placemats, a bronze thali and channi are placed on the table, which are whisked away and replaced with ceramic dinnerware once the food arrives. It’s these little details that make dining at Loya, which in Pashtun means a gathering for a feast, not just an event but an experience.

Sil batta for stone-grinding.

Feast for the Senses

“If you’re looking for your usual butter chicken or dal makhani, you won’t find it here,” Sunil ji states in a matter-of-factly as he hands us the menus. Poring over it, we realise that he isn’t kidding!

Loya does away with restaurant staples and instead serves food that takes you on a culinary journey through northern India—from the Himalayan foothills of Himachal Pradesh and Uttarakhand to the flatlands of Punjab and the valleys of Kashmir. Most of the dishes on the menu, we’re informed, are traditionally made at home, their recipes preserved through generations by people native to the northern belt.

At the heart of everything that Loya does is the essence of revival—of dishes, ingredients and most importantly, cooking practices. The kitchen has a glass-front, so diners can see cooking techniques of the north such as Dhungar (smoking), Baghar (tempering in hot oil), Sigdi (cooking over coal or wood bark) and Dum (slow cooking in sealed containers) being deployed. In addition, earthen pots and iron kadhais are used to naturally infuse earthy flavours and robust colours into the dishes.

The restaurant's concept of HEART—harmony, experimentation, authenticity, reverence and the spirit—is extended to the cocktail philosophy, too, which features concoctions such as Jammu Julep and Vintage Paloma, highlighting the north’s botanical abundance and heirloom ingredients.

Jammu Julep

The food menu isn’t exhaustive, the presentation of the dishes is simple and rustic, with just a hint of being plated. The entire focus is on the taste, which in my opinion is what ultimately seals the deal for Loya. Each dish that we try seems to outdo the last one in freshness of ingredients, care in preparation, and authenticity of taste.

The Dal ki Chaat is assembled tableside with besan and gehun paratha crisps, topped with slow-cooked urad and chana dal and an assortment of toppings, including tampered garlic and garlic oil. The spices and anardana chutney on the Loya Kachori Chaat add to the zing of the dish, without offsetting it. The Paneer Teen Mirch is an example of how the boring paneer can take on a whole new form and flavour when made with a little ingenuity—it features thin layers of paneer rolled with crumbled paneer and spices, all tossed with three types of chillies.

Among the fish, meat and poultry dishes, the spice-rubbed Sigdi Macchi with pickled kala nimbu and kala lahsun is an instant hit. The main course preparations of Loya Murgh Pyaza, slow-cooked chicken in a spice blend with pearl onions; and Kunni Murg, chicken cooked on the bone in an earthen pot with garlic bulb, stone flower spice and mustard oil, hit all the right notes. But it is the Dumba Kadhai, which I try on Sunil ji’s insistence after I tell him that I’m not a fan of mutton, that takes the cake. The kid goat meat marinated overnight and finished with fresh chilli, ginger and black pepper tempering falls off the bone, and is perfectly balanced.

Dining at Loya needs to be seen as a whole—each aspect of the restaurant, from food to décor to service, is linked to the others, each experience adding to and deriving from the other. To know the food of Loya is also to know the warmth of the people preparing and serving it, the beautiful ambience in which it is served, and the stories of where that food comes from and how it is prepared. All of these compounds to an experience that can only be described as something worth writing home about.