Metro Pulse/Restaruant Rover/Neelam's

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Neelam's Indian Grocery & Restaurant
3513 Sutherland Avenue, 523-8943
Tues.—Sun., 11 a.m.—8 p.m.

by Connie Seuer

Let's face it. We've all got family. And with families come occasional individuals who, bizarro as they may be, can't help but be loved. Similarly, there are places in every town that may not fit our standard idea of a restaurant, but in exchange for our patience, loyalty, and an occasional blind eye, they under-promise and over-deliver. Knoxville is ripe with these little-known gems, and Neelam's Indian Grocery & Restaurant is one such jewel.

Several years ago, sometime after the first Indian restaurant came to town and before other ethnic groceries opened, Neelam's stopped serving. Reportedly Dama Reddy (the Mrs. of Neelam's) had grown tired of the routine. When I spotted a small ad stating that Neelam's was, once again, cooking for the public, I knew I had to go.

Accompanied by Marlena and Ullrich, my devoted (and moderately adventurous) dining companions, I entered the humble blue house on Sutherland that is Neelam's. With windows obscured by advertisements and a front porch thirsty for paint, the well-worn exterior could intimidate the uninitiated. But once inside, we were enveloped by pungent scents of garam masala, curry, and coriander.

A second room, beyond the spare grocery shelves, offers three tables seating about 6-8 people each. This family-style eating area is feel-like-you're-sitting-at-your-Aunt-Genevive's-table kind of homey: A corner television reports the nightly news; an oscillating fan, precariously placed, struggles to complete its half moon. Unless the restaurant is packed, head for the far right or far left table, as the one in the middle also doubles as a desk/wait station/television-watching spot for the owners.

Without ordering, we received three large Styrofoam cups of distilled water. This was fine for Marlena and me, but Ullrich felt helpless to ask for a Coke. There's a drink cooler next to one of the tables that houses sodas and mango juice. Open the fridge and take what you'd like or ask if you don't see what you need. Remember...you're family.

Neelam's offerings are basically South Indian dishes, but they're homestyle. Dama (with a helping hand from husband Madhu Reddy) prepares the same recipes she would make for her family, but she tames the heat and makes a whole lot more. Though you never know what dish you'll get, you can trust your food will be authentic and delicious.

We began with an appetizer sampler of Vada, Samosa, Idli, Lentil Soup, Onion Pakodas, and chutney ($3.49). From nibble number one, we gushed over the Onion Pakodas—dense, hush-puppy-like fritters (also known as Pakoras) made of chick-pea batter and soft, white onions. One dip into the chili-hot, green pepper and coriander chutney, and you've got a piquant, Pakoda mouthful.

Vada, an eggy-tasting fried donut made from fermented rice and dal flour, carried an alluring sourness when solo, and went well with the Lentil soup and chutney. Idli, a bland rice and flour cake meant for sopping the coconut-laced Lentil soup, was the least interesting contender on the platter.

Marlena and I devoured the vegetarian Samosa—flaky fried pastry with inspiring insides of potatoes, peas, coriander and mustard seeds. Ullrich ordered meat Samosas separately ($2.99). One bite of the spicy chicken, potato and pea blend, and his savoring oohs and aahs were irrepressible.

Next up, Masala Dosa ($3.99), a crepe-thin fried pancake of rice and lentil flour. Make note...this is a Neelam's specialty. Measuring in at 20 inches (a fact Madhu confirmed with a miniature tape measure), and stuffed with potatoes, onions, and peas, the Masala Dosa was sparked by an addictive coconut-coriander chutney.

When entrees arrived, Ullrich's Meat Plate offered a very mild chicken curry, an eggplant and chick-pea curry, and a heaping helping of aromatic, basmati rice ($3.99). The Vegetable Plate offered the same eggplant curry, Saag Paneer (by Marlena's special request) and basmati ($3.49). Marlena and I found the eggplant top notch—it fell apart in one's mouth, with a faint, sweet taste independent from the overall seasoning. The Saag Paneer, a traditional creamed spinach curry with chunks of soft, milk cheese, was too oily for Marlena. I agreed that it was on the soupy side, but preferred this finer puree to thick, fibrous Saag. And to me, the dish was seasoned just right.

I inquired about sweets, and after a jovial spar between Dama and Madhu, we were offered Gulab Jamun—steaming hot, syrup soaked, fried dough balls. The syrup was so sweet I saw myself headed for a diabetic coma. But at another table, a young girl enjoyed her own bowl of Gulab Jamun with a smile as wide as India. I suspect in 30 minutes she was bouncing off the walls, but at that moment, she appeared to have reached a sugar-inspired state of nirvana.

With dessert, we ordered Chai ($.49) all around. This was the traditional stuff, where the Black Tea base is still detectable, providing an effective counter for the super-sweet Gulab Jamun.

After paying up at the register (tipping is OK, but not necessary) Marlena and Ullrich were already looking forward to getting takeout in the near future. For me, the unpredictable, quirky personality of Neelam's, in addition to truly home-cooked Indian fare, was what made it work. Its off-the-cuff style isn't for everyone, but for those undaunted by a family affair, there's a place at Neelam's table just for us.