Complex flavours delight at Paprika.

Byline: By Geoff Laws

Have you noticed how Indian and Bengali restaurants have changed?

These days the dAcor celebrates the bright, jewel colours of the sub-continent and the music reflects the sitar/guitar fusion. Paprika is a relatively new kid on the block and is a good example of this trend.

The deceptively bijou faiade masks a modern, clean-lined interior of peachy cream walls topped by a burgundy ceiling. Blond wood chairs are grouped around the de rigueur snowy tables, each graced with a single carnation, which is a bit of a throwback to the 70s to my mind, but pleasant enough.

As we settled to our table I noticed a bizarre feature ( a mirror, hung 8ft up the wall. It turned out to be the architect's idea. Maybe he's a very tall person and is making a statement on behalf of his peers. We'll wait and see if Big Al comes in tonight.

Throughout the evening the staff at Paprika deftly juggled serving the "in" and "out" diners and they were certainly kept on their toes, not least by the order-to-go that was so large it went off in a huge box.

A couple of chilled Kingfisher beers and on to our raison d'etre, the food.

Tandoori special kebab for my companion and shahi machli for me.

Paprika's version of my dish held plenty of surprises. Translucent slices of salmon curled over a generous pile of prawns in a pale dressing and the fishful mound was set in a pool of the most wonderful sauce. It looked like it was going to be tomato with maybe a hint of chilli, but the surprise lay in the ground almonds. This richly sweet and nutty blend of flavours and textures was a real delight. Another glass of Kingfisher to soothe and refresh me as we entered the main course zone.

I had been intrigued by the offer of jal jul hash, a dish of barbecued duck cooked with garam massala, chilli and coriander, advertised as madras hot. It's not very often you come across duck on the menu so, of course, I had to have it. To keep it company we chose murgh acher, chicken braised with mango chutney and pickles with a sweet sour taste. A bowl of basmati rice, some bindi bhaji and my companion's obligatory Peshwari nan.

Starting at the top, the duck was delicious and a beautiful rendering of one of my favourite birds. The meat had been treated with great respect, infused with robust spices and gently cooked to keep its feathery texture without being dry. There was a mysterious undercurrent of vanilla breaking through that added a bonus dimension to the dish. All in all a great experience. The murgh acher was in the same league, but strikingly different. The sweet mango base held the juicy chicken, while the hot pickles formed a spicy wrap. Shredded ginger and a bold bout of cumin gave huge bursts of flavour that rang out alongside their gentler cousins.

The complexity of the flavours and textures was a delight that still brings a smile as I think back.

The rice was flawless: fluffy and delicate, with occasional coloured grains that always remind me of Seurat. The pointillist approach to presentation. The nan was a more delicate version of the bread than I'm used to, but perfectly fine and not too filling. Just when we thought we had tasted the best and it couldn't get any better, the bindi bhaji took centre stage. This had been my choice and, as it turned out, it was a brilliant one. The ochra was of the finest quality, young and fresh, and had been cooked to perfection. It was one of those revelation dishes, the ones that show you just how well it can be done in the right hands. The chef had skilfully balanced the ochra's delicacy with the pungent immediacy of the chilli and coriander, so that everything had its place and, at the same time, contributed to the overall colour of the dish. It was exemplary.

Although half of Gateshead seemed to have come and gone while we'd been there, and almost all the tables were full, Big Al had not shown up. Maybe he was out of town. The bill was the last surprise. We had eaten very well and only had to cough up pounds 35.95 for the pleasure.

* Paprika, 248 Durham Road, Gateshead, [phone]. Open: Monday-Sunday 5.30pm-12pm.