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| - Growing up in the wilds of Thornhill, I was a relative latecomer to the world of Indian cuisine. My palate had toured most of Asia (in varying degrees of authenticity), but Indian food had yet to find a solid footing that far North. Venturing downtown for undergrad, I was able to better explore my city, in all it's colours, creeds and flavours.
Trimurti represented one of my earliest ventures into Subcontinental cuisine, on the strength of a review of it's Butter Chicken by Jacob Richler, then of the National Post and still of the much more talented father. I was curious about this exotic dish; which started with a tenderized, roasted bird and ended with the sweet and subtle balance between tomato and cream.
I'll say it now. Butter chicken is a gateway drug. Trimurti's version is all tender tandoori'd bird bathed in luxuriant sauce, a fine balance of acid and dairy, smoothed further with a restrained sweetness I have yet to find elsewhere. It's worth a trip in it's own right.
Yes, they sell soup and salad. No, I've never seen anybody order them, even from the well-stocked lunch buffet. Better to go with the deep-fried family of appetizers. Flaky egetarian samosas contain spicy well-cooked potatoes and pop with bright grean peas. Onion Bhajas are what happens when your garden variety onion ring answers the cumin-cardamom call of Cthulu. I don't know what's in the pakoras, and I don't really care. They are crispy, greasy marvels.
Lamb Rogan Josh is stewed to falling-apart tenderness; spicy enough, though my inner Johnny Knoxville wishes for more blistering heat. Biryanis are decent, but if you're looking to conserve carbs, delightful naan are buttery, puffy brilliance.
I would argue that the most important part of Indian cuisine is the prevalence of vegetables. For those looking to go a day or two a week without meat, Trimurti's vegetable dishes would be a great start. Daal is well-flavoured and hefty; channa masala chickpeas yield creamy protein-starchy goodness; eggplant bartha is stewed to meaty depths of flavour, and saag paneer is a subcontinental improvement on the steakhouse favourite, creamed spinach. Portions seem small for the price (and most are available on the buffet for a better lunch value), but it's all so filling you won't have room for more.
Service is friendly, but sometimes feels undertrained. Plates are cleared at random intervals, and the cheque arrives un-asked for.
Boo for their ever-shifting delivery boundaries. When I crave curry in a hurry, this is the place I crave. Depending on who picks up the phone, sometimes they'll come through, some times they won't.
My university days are long past, but I still have a taste for Trimurti. On those rare occasions I find myself lingering around the former home of CityTV, I still pop in for a bite.
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