Amazing grazing

By Paul Reidinger

paulr@sfbg.com

THE SUBJECT OF accursed restaurant spaces is one of perennial interest and – for those of us inclined to speculate – speculation. Poor location? Awkward layout, ugly building? Bad luck? Foolish management, lousy food? Perhaps it is part of the nature of a curse not to reveal itself to reason. Some restaurant spaces just seem doomed to host failure after failure, like reasonably attractive people who by age 45 are on their fourth marriages.

Last month Dosa, a south Indian restaurant, opened at an address that for most of the 1990s had belonged to the highly regarded, and highly successful, Val 21. I loved Val 21, and while I was sorry to see it close, I did not worry that the space would start flipping and flopping like a fish on a dock. It was on a desirable block of Valencia Street, after all, with people and restaurants all over the place and a public parking garage just around the corner. Whatever endeavor succeeded Val 21 could not possibly, in my view, fail.

Yet several endeavors failed in fairly quick succession, beginning with 3Ring (a Provençal-style restaurant) and continuing through Le Krewe (Cajun/Creole) and, most recently, Spiazzino (Italian). Suddenly, where there had been stability, there was a merry-go-round. It is too soon to say that Dosa has restored the old order and broken the unexpected curse. But judging from the early crowds, the high level of energy and excitement, and the quality of the food, the outlook is better than it has been in some years.

As the name suggests, Dosa features the dosa, a large, oblong crepe filled with a variety of savories. (And a brief digression here to applaud the restaurant's bright signage, which is clearly visible – and legible – for a block or two in each direction. Letting people know you're there, and having a simple, easily pronounceable name, is a big part of the battle.) The savories are, interestingly, meatless though not strictly vegan (one has eggs, another cheese), and they point us in the direction of one of Dosa's sly marvels, which is that you can work your way through an entire meal – a feast – without eating any animal flesh or being aware that you aren't. This is unforced vegetarianism, and it is the best sort of vegetarianism; it is intrinsic to the cuisine and to the wider call of Hindu culture.

There is, of course, flesh for those who want it. (I come down on both sides of this issue.) Pescos might go for the prawn coconut masala ($13), a crock of large, peeled shrimp swimming in a gingery, slightly sweet curry paste reminiscent of similar Thai dishes but without the defining signatures of lemongrass and Kaffir lime leaves. For the omnivore: Tamil lamb curry ($13), cubes of exquisitely tender meat bathed by a rich brown sauce of tomatoes, onions, fennel, and poppy seeds. Although the dish is called a curry, the sauce is very even-tempered, almost beef burgundy-like, and is tasty enough to stand on its own, without meat; it ladles nicely over accompanying pats of basmati rice or can be sopped up with chunks of bathura or poori, the rounds of puffy wheat bread.

The dosas are sprawling, with their extremities sometimes drooping over the edges of the oblong platters on which they're served. The crepes are folded from the sides on the long axis, but the edges don't meet in the middle, giving the dosas the look of half-wrapped Christmas packages. As we are eternal suckers for the word paneer ("cheese"), we could not help but love the paneer dosa ($9), which mixed farmers cheese with grilled carrots and potatoes. We were slightly less enthusiastic about the south Indian moons ($11), a quintet of uttapam (like little pancakes) topped with various combinations of vegetables, nuts, and spices and served with garbanzo beans and chutney. Too much confusion; a few too many flavors to keep track of amid a fireworks display of spice.

Channa bathura ($9), on the other hand – a large crock of chickpea stew served with a bathura bigger than a Frisbee – commanded one's ongoing attention, as did channa ($5), a chickpea salad dotted with cherry tomatoes and slivers of red onion and brightened with a lemon dressing that would have gone over brilliantly on some Aegean island or in Provence. Chickpeas are always fabulous, of course, at least for those who find them fabulous, but size seems to help at Dosa, in an inversion of a widespread trend toward geniusy small plates and more prosaic large ones. To emphasize the point: Idli vada sambar ($5), a kind of sampler plate of lentil dumplings, patties, and soup, with a selection of condiments, never quite came together, whereas the dahi vada ($5), a pair of lentil dumplings adrift like South Seas atolls in a near-soup of yogurt piped with tamarind sauce, was coherent. One was reminded of gazpacho.

The interior of the restaurant has been repainted in accents of tandoori-chicken orange but otherwise is little changed from 10 years ago. The huge bar is still in place (and is an excellent alternative for spontaneous types); the vaguely A-shaped seismic-reinforcement struts still give a sense of head-lowering intimacy to the dining area in the back. And there is still plenty of noise, but maybe a dose of this is welcome – a sign of life – after a few too many cycles of somnolence.

DOSA Tues.-Fri., 5-10 p.m. Sat.-Sun., 11 a.m.-10 p.m. 995 Valencia, SF (415) 642-3672 www.dosasf.com Beer and wine American Express, MasterCard, Visa Noisy Wheelchair accessible