An update of Indian cuisine, faithful to authentic flavors

But Bindi makes two amazingly refreshing fruit mixers to quench the burn, a ginger-zipped lemonade tarted up with pomegranate and a mango punch brightened with lime and cardamom that was dangerous spiked with rum.

By my second visit, though, the kitchen was able to paint a vibrant palette of spice without torching the taste buds. A rustic lentil dosa, deliberately thicker than the sheer giant crepes that are most typical, was filled with coarse-ground moong beans that played against a dollop of curried potato masala and tart yogurt raita filled with green grapes.

Crisp samosa dumplings garnered a shade of extra sweetness from parsnips added to the potato-paneer stuffing. Turney tweaked one of my favorite Indian salads, papdi chaat, by stacking the sweet-tart of fruit (mango and apples) over an already lively medley of sour yogurt, tangy chutneys, and chickpea-crisp crunch.

The "parsi wedding parcel" of flaky white cobia, meanwhile, was both mild and aromatic, the thick fish fillet baked in a banana-leaf package with coconut chutney, and served next to a fluffy semolina "uppuma" cake filled with snappy green fava beans.

Bindi doesn't ease up when it comes to dessert. There are the dual thimble-shaped towers of dense kulfi ice creams made from pistachio and goat cheese, as well as blackberry with almonds. There is a moist cardamom cake stacked with spiced chocolate pot de creme and a cap of somewhat jarringly salted caramel.

But my favorite finish was the pot of fresh chai. When I poured the frothy milk assam tea into our cups, the aromas of star anise, cinnamon and clove drifted up and hovered over our table like a sweet, exotic cloud.