Indian food is the new Thai. Restaurants are springing up so quickly that there seems to be a new one in every neighborhood, and young diners are becoming as familiar with lamb vindaloo as they might have been with pad Thai a few years ago. But widespread popularity doesn't always go hand-in-hand with good or authentic food. As is true in seeking out Thai places, it pays to be discriminating. You want the food to open a window into a culture, rather than be a pale imitation of what the management thinks Americans want to eat.
Tantric Bar & Grill, which opened in late July, is in an unexpected spot for an Indian restaurant: squeezed between two chains, Fuddruckers and Rock Bottom Restaurant & Brewery, in the Theater District. Walking in can be a bit of a surprise, too -- it's not at all like what you might imagine when the term "ethnic restaurant" comes to mind. The bar, stretching along one side of the room, and backed with brightly lighted shelves holding liquor bottles, captures the room's focus. A coppery filigreed chandelier seems to reach down like an exotic flower from the center of the room, and the banquettes are covered with boldly colored fabrics.
For a minute, I feel as though I've stumbled into an Indian version of P. F. Chang's, ethnic only in theme. But then the fragrance of spices wafts across the room as a waitress carries dishes to a table. Reassured, I enjoy a glass of white wine while waiting for other members of my party. In a later phone conversation, Mohinder Ahluwalia, one of the owners, explains that the restaurant is the project of two couples who wanted to eat Indian food in a place they could also socialize in. So he and his wife, Poonam Ahluwalia, and Mary and Shubhro Sen, who also own Jaipur Cafe in Norwood, set out to create a restaurant with an upscale ambience and a bar scene.
The look may be the flipside of sometimes dark and cramped Indian restaurants, dominated by sitar music and television screens playing silent tape loops of Bollywood films. But Tantric doesn't fool around with the cuisine; there's no fusion at play, and no dumbing down of the spices or chilis. And unlike the predominant Northern Indian cuisine found in the Boston area, Tantric's chef, Amal Jana, plays the field of this vast country, mixing Punjab dishes from the north with southern dishes like spicy Kerala lamb in a coconut curry. Sprinkled in are innovations such as a sprouted moong bean salad with chickpeas and tomatoes, which, Ahluwalia says, is part of his wife's interest in healthy dishes. The wine list, moderately priced and concentrating on American, Australian, and New Zealand vintages, with a few Italians thrown in, is more extensive than in many Indian restaurants; we enjoy an Erath pinot gris from Oregon with one meal, the fruit in the wine nicely matching the spice-laden food.
The moong bean salad is delicious, contrasting the crunch of the sprouted beans and the nutty taste of the chickpeas with the acidity of tomatoes and a citrusy vinaigrette. Papri chaat resembles a taco salad, combining crisp chips with potatoes, chickpeas, and yogurt along with a sweet-sour tamarind dressing. It's a mush of ingredients, but tasty all the same. The old standby, samosas, benefit here by being crisp and obviously freshly made. More unusual is an Indo-Chinese style cauliflower appetizer in a tangy, dark sauce flecked with chilis, a melding of spicing and flavorings not often seen in local Indian restaurants, but common elsewhere, Ahluwalia says later.
The layers of spices work well in mild dishes such as lamb pasanda, with its thick, yogurt-and-nut-laced sauce. Baby eggplant tastes quite different in the same sauce in a vegetarian dish, as the eggplant adds a slightly smoky, even bitter undertone, beautifully complemented by cashew sauce and a topping of raisins and almonds. It's almost a sure bet that someone will order chicken tikka masala; Tantric's version fills the need for the familiar, though it's not particularly memorable.
My advice for ordering at Tantric would be the more chili heat, the better. Fish in a Bengali-style yogurt and green chili sauce gets bursts of heat from chilis, but is calmed by cardamom and cloves. In a display of why Indian food is so intriguing, as soon as the palate recognizes that give-and-take of hot and sweet, roasted onion seeds register, adding yet another layer of sharp flavor. Goan shrimp curry, in a tomato curry sauce, has the same dance of hot and sweet. And nariyal lamb, from the southern Kerala region, shows off many spices, from curry leaves to mustard seeds and whole red chilis, all smoothed into a rich coconut sauce to make a dish worth treasuring.
Not all of Tantric's food is as pleasing as the lamb dish; crab cakes are too dark and crisped, lamb and mint kebabs are too dry, onion naan is too oily. Though it's a relief on one hand not to have every dish presented over a little Sterno heater so that the sauces boil dry after a half an hour or so, Tantric's plates come out of the kitchen too cool in several instances. And someone should figure out the music; Indian techno plays incessantly (and much too loudly) one night, although it's toned down on the next visit.
And then there are the desserts. Ras malai, a very soft ricotta-like cheese in a cardamom cream sauce, is almost too soupy and lacks a little oomph; it could use more sugar, or more cardamom. Still, it is lovely compared to a mango cheesecake, as stiff and compact in texture as a sponge. Pistachio kulfi, cut into small triangles, becomes our fallback favorite one night, as we ignore the cheesecake and the pudding to gobble up the sweet ice-cream-like dish.
An explanation of Tantric's namesake philosophy involving inner awareness through the five senses starts off the menu, but it's a little long and ponderous to comprehend while trying to figure out what to eat and drink. Even so, it's a fitting way to top the menu. While Tantric's potential as a new model for an ethnic restaurant may need some rounding out, when it comes to satisfying the senses of taste and fragrance, Tantric is well on its way. 
