Lahori Dera brings new and lesser-seen examples of Pakistani cooking to Maddington

There are half a dozen dried dates in the gold saucer in front of me. They are chewy and dense and taste of sunshine and patience.

Next to the saucer is a jug of rooh afza, a ruby-coloured squash made with rose syrup and soaked chia seeds. Like the dried fruit, the rooh afza is also sweet. Too sweet, even. (I had “Turkish delight consommé” jotted down among the tasting notes in my phone.)

Which is precisely why both feature prominently in Iftar, the evening meal taken by Muslims to break their daily fast during Ramadan, the Islamic holy month of reflection that ended on Thursday night. The natural sugars and minerals in the dates are great for blood sugar levels while the soft drink quickly rehydrates the body.

The pair also feature prominently at Lahori Dera, a two-room Pakistani restaurant in Maddington. Or at least they do during the restaurant’s Iftar nights that sees staff set up long buffets laden with Pakistani dishes presented in ornate golden chafing dishes. In a nod to tradition, tables are also pre-set with dates and rooh afza for those that want to keep it old school.

Most diners, though, have their eyes on a bigger prize than just dried fruit with some happy to jockey for prime line positions so they can hit the ground running when sunset hits. Typically, an adhan (the Islamic call to prayer) signals go-time. At Lahori Dera, the dinner bell is inaudible. Instead, look for bursts of movement as the hungry go straight for hefty samosas; crunchy, kakiage-like pakoras of loose-limbed shaved vegetables; and good-sized spring rolls. (The appeal of the deep fryer, it would seem, is pretty much universal.)

Some will amass hillocks of fried stuff and return to the table to share the spoils of a successful hunter-gatherer outing. Others will continue down the line, filling their white plates with ladles of lush shinwari qeema (a juicy stir-fry of minced lamb, tomato and ginger); curls of excellent fish that’s been fried Lahori-style and crunched up with mustard seed and crushed coriander seed; plus a creamy degi korma mutton curry – the meat is on the bone, naturally – that nudges heat levels up a little.

Quarters of naan bread and luxurious pulao rice (just-oily enough) provide vital ballast while fruit cream chaat (chopped fruits dressed with yoghurt) and a trifle-like fruit custard topped with biscuits and grapes tick the boxes for dessert. Whether you like them or not, however, hinges on how much you like banana as a flavour: the divisive fruit stars in both sweet options.

All-you-can-eat, though, is just half of the story. To get the full lowdown on Lahori Dera, head to the second dining room where an a la carte menu provides a more complete look at what chef-owner Amir Nadeem can do. It’s here, for instance, where he’ll serve mutton paya (trotter stew), cholley (chickpea curry) and other Pakistani breakfast and brunch hits on weekends. During Ramadan, the restaurant also hosts a Sehri buffet – the pre-dawn, pre-fasting meal – between 1:30am and 3:30am that I’m eager to try next year.

It’d be possible to leave the buffet thinking vegetables aren’t a strong suit: the yoghurt-soaked fritters in the dahi bhalian are a little too soft, the gutsy dahl not quite in the same league as Dahl Daddy’s namesake. But get to know the shahi paneer – a hauntingly rich curry built from tomatoes, cashews and cream that tastes as if korma and satay sauce spent the weekend together – and you’ll understand why this part of the world is renowned for its vegetarian kitchen-craft. I burned through an entire half of kalwanji naan (a fine, cracker-like flatbread studded with sesame seeds) sopping up the gravy before I remembered there was cheese to be eaten too.

That naan, meanwhile, is baked in the tandoor, just like most of the non-veg entrees such as the lamb seekh kebab (meaty!), plump chicken tikka and roasted quail. You can order these meats individually or sample a bunch of them via the qalanderi platter: a barbecue sampler of sorts starring various meats heaped onto a mountain of pulao. Next on my to-try list: the restaurant’s Pakistani-influenced pizzas starring paneer, chaap and lamb kebab. (Back in Lahore, Italian cooking was one of the cuisines that Nadeem trained in.)

It seems churlish to write this but while both dining rooms make pleasant dining backdrops – restaurant manager Sami Haidari and his team are a warm presence throughout – the toilets aren’t great and betray the age of the building. Then again, Lahori Dera wouldn’t be the first place where the food is great but the bathrooms leave something to be desired. (We pause here to think of Miki’s Open Kitchen in Margaret River as well as Broome’s wonderful, dearly departed Aarli.) And if I had to choose between good kitchen but bad bathrooms or the reverse, the answer is clear-cut.

And if eating real deal and lesser-seen Pakistani cooking means contending with some circa 1980s footy changeroom bathroom décor, then so be it. People have – and, tragically, continue to – endure far worse to break bread with their loved ones.

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