Apricot chicken, but not as you know it at this one-of-a-kind suburban time capsule

When Mini Gaundar was a child in Fiji, she’d track through the canefields on her way to school with a packed lunch of roti rolled around pumpkin and shredded coconut. The granddaughter of an indentured sugarcane farmer who’d been enticed to Fiji under British colonial rule, Gaundar grew up on a sugarcane plantation with six siblings, and their lunchboxes were typical of many Fijians with South Asian heritage, tasting both of a home adopted and one left behind.

Half a lifetime later, that very dish is on the menu at Rama’s Fiji Indian Restaurant in Pearce, about 15 minutes from Canberra’s CBD. Not every plate here tugs at these threads – there are the same pappadums, samosas, lamb rogenjosh and masala you’ll find at any other suburban Indian restaurant – but then there are dishes typical of the Fiji Indian repertoire: jhinga nariel of prawns in coconut, a curry of goat served on the bone and others made with beef and pork, a broad departure from traditional Indian menus.

Tea. Coffee. Sugar. Spice. These small foodstuffs have reshaped borders, changed history, built empires. There’s a thesis on how the British Empire’s appetite for sweetness led to Gaundar running one of Australia’s most singular restaurants. In fact, I’m sure the guy at the next table, dressed every bit like a 𝄒90s geography teacher, has been working on it since 1991 when Gaundar first took over Rama’s. Everyone else? They’ve just been enjoying themselves.

Glance around the room and longtime regulars are pulling the cork from BYO Penfolds and spilling fiery lime pickle on white tablecloths. By the windows at the entrance, Gaundar is serving a couple of twentysomethings who are letting the head subside on the pet-nat they had rolling around in the back of the car on the drive here.

Once these tables have scorched their fingers with turmeric-tinted pakoras, and crunched through the bubbly pastry encasing the potato-and pea-filled samosas, odds are they’re sharing the Fijian pork curry. Made with onion, capsicum and a mix of cuts, each bite reveals a different texture: the belly collapsing into sweet fattiness, the shoulder dense and meaty. Extra turmeric and a thwack of fenugreek add warmth and fragrance to a coconut base.

Part of the restaurant’s appeal is that it feels like something of an open secret. Every local knows Rama’s, and it’s hard to find many who don’t speak of it fondly, even if it wouldn’t be the first place they’d recommend to an out-of-towner. I wish they would. There’s always a plate of banana and coconut available “for those who like to sweeten their curry”, and where else can you order a plate of mango chicken like this?

Taking its cues from the mangoes that grow in Fiji and Gaundar’s Australian mother-in-law’s love of apricot chicken, it’s a dish that’s familiar, comforting and novel all at once, one that could only exist in this place, in these exact circumstances. When so many of us are trying to define what it means to eat in this country, this dish might hold the answer, hundreds of years of history in a single bite.

Along with the pork, the mango chicken is one of the specialties that Gaundar added to the menu when she bought Rama’s 35 years ago. At the time, her sister, Daya , and Daya’s husband Parsu were already working in the kitchen, having moved to Canberra following the two 1987 Fijian coups.

Buying the business guaranteed their permanent residency, and while there was no intention to keep things going long term, the restaurant was busy enough that it became their life. Today, along with being co-owners the pair still run the kitchen, and it’s thanks to their touch that the saffron rice is so pillowy, the spinach-flecked lamb saag (the chilli adjusted to suit your taste) so rich and satisfying.

There’s plenty within these saffron-coloured walls that speaks of another era. Teenagers work the floor to save up pocket money. The point-of-sale system behind the counter periodically flicks over onto the Windows 95 3D pipes screensaver. Chicken korma remains the most popular dish, even if the flavour differs from Northern Indian renditions.

But somehow, the resulting restaurant, spurred on by Gaundar’s sunny hospitality, also feels like an antidote to all the group-led, concept-driven venues flooding our cities. In that sense, Rama’s is very much a restaurant for our times, even after all these years.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.

This review was originally published in Good Weekend magazine