By Zachary Fagenson
By Bill Citara
By Laine Doss
By Laine Doss
By Carina Ost
By Valeria Nekhim
By Hannah Sentenac
By Carina Ost
Twenty seven million pigs get slaughtered, processed, and wrapped each year by Smithfield Hams. That's roughly the equivalent of butchering and packaging the entire human populations of America's largest 32 cities New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Houston, Philadelphia, Phoenix, San Antonio, San Diego, Dallas....
This grisly image, indelibly caged in my head for the past few months, comes courtesy of a Rolling Stone magazine article called "Boss Hog" ("the dark side of the other white meat"). Such stories regarding the corporate food industry inevitably lead me to contemplate spending the rest of my life subsisting on berries and nuts. And only those I forage myself. At the very least they put me in the mood for a clean, honest, vegetarian meal, preferably whipped up by a chef of Asian or Indian persuasion. Sadly finding this in Miami-Dade County is more difficult than foraging for berries and nuts. Or so I thought, until disappointment with a new vegetarian restaurant called Ocean Drive Fusion propelled me to return to the more-established Guru Fine Indian Cuisine which was so good I have sworn never again to make blanket statements about the local lack of decent vegetarian fare.
Guru struck a chord with South Beach residents from the time it opened in 2004. I hadn't been for quite a while, but lately more and more acquaintances have been hectoring me to pay it a visit. The loungy, minimally designed, 40-seat room serves as a cool, informal setting for a wide array of traditional meat-based Indian dishes, from chicken tandoori to lamb vindaloo. Guru also touts "classic selections" such as churrasco steak and cajun salmon options for the outvoted who get dragged here against their will. We stuck to vegetarian fare for the sake of thematic considerations. And also for our well-being.
232 12th St.
Miami Beach, FL 33139-4603
Region: South Beach
Ocean Drive Fusion, 1501 Collins Ave, Miami Beach; 305-673-2590. Open for lunch and dinner Sunday through Thursday noon to 11:00 p.m., Friday and Saturday noon to midnight.
Menus come encased in clunky metallic picture frames that are placed upon the tables in a series of loud thuds. I suppose it makes them easy to wipe clean with Windex, but I still don't think this is Guru's best idea. Permit me to also suggest raising the height of the bar stools adjacent to a counter up front by at least six inches. I dined alone there one night and felt like a kid at the grownups' table.
No complaints regarding the food. For starters we pigged out oops, sorry on a pair of crustily crumbed vegetable cutlets, with soft interiors of pureed beets, carrots, potatoes, and peas matched with sweet-hot tomato-onion chutney that positively sparkled on both palate and plate. Vegetable samosas lifted spirits, too, teepee-shaped crusts filled with curried, cumined potatoes and peas.
Prices have crept upward since Guru's inception: The fourteen vegetarian offerings are all either $14.95 or $15.95; other entrées run from $15.95 to $19.95. That's still pretty good for what you get and what you get has gotten a recent upgrade, too. Main courses are placed in the center of the table, and each diner is presented with a large, square white plate artfully arranged with a neat mold of rice; a scoop of mayonnaise-based potato/vegetable salad (in dire need of seasoning); and a demitasse of soup on one evening a dainty mulligatawny, on another visit an equally delicate lentil.
Entrées were uniformly delicious. Some, like shahi korma, are traditionally meat-based dishes presented in vegetarian mode specifically a mixed sauté of cauliflower, mushrooms, peas, carrots, and almond slivers in a creamy, almost Thai-like coconut sauce, slightly tinged with saffron. Kofta curry, generally a meatball dish, here is a trio of luscious potato-tofu-onion-balls in mild, savory gravy. Other offerings are classically vegetarian, like channa masala, a light, spicy mix of chickpeas with potatoes, tomatoes, and onions, flavored with lemon, bay leaves, garlic, garam masala, cilantro, and a piquant kick of green chilies and cumin. Paou bhaji also has meatless roots, this street food of Mumbai (formerly Bombay) made from mashing and cooking potatoes into a gravy consistency, and then frying it with other vegetables and spreading onto dinner rolls.
For dessert gajjar halwa brought a stiff puddle of grated carrots cooked down and cooled with almonds, raisins, and cardamom, but we preferred rasmalai: sweet, chewy paneer cheese dumplings plunked into a martini glass of evanescent orange saffron sauce.
Guru is one of those wonderful neighborhood restaurants that struggles a bit at the start, clumsily finds its niche, grows, matures, and finally blossoms into a respectable dining establishment. To say Ocean Drive Fusion is struggling to find its niche is an understatement on the order of stating that Smithfield pigs don't lead exceedingly pleasant lives. Simply figuring out the name of the place is difficult enough, with signage on the property indicating "Vegetarian Indian Cuisine," and also "Natural Organic Food," both accompanied by postings of totally different menus. In another section, which appears to be a separate entity but is not, an electric sign lights up for "Hot Pizza." A jewelry store and art gallery share the space as well. Ocean Drive CONfusion!
The indoor portion of the eatery is handsomely decorated, but the intense aroma of burning incense, while possibly advantageous for meditating, listening to Enya, or masking pot smoke, is not conducive to dining. So we sat outdoors in an area that feels makeshift, and looked over the menu(s). The Ocean Drive Fusion selections comprise a potpourri of global vegetarian fare, with appetizers running the gamut from French onion soup to edamame to three-mushroom pizza to hummus to tortilla chips with guacamole. Entrées travel with similar abandon, from pad Thai noodles to lasagna to chicken curry to crab piccata; and by chicken and crab, I mean soybean-based chicken and crab. We selected from the far more concise Indian bill of fare, to no small degree because I had espied Indian cooks in the open kitchen and trusted they'd make a better shindi biryani than eggplant parmigiana. In retrospect, looks like that may have been a faulty call.