I’ve taken a much longer hiatus from RKK than I originally intended. I thought Nikhil’s Upanayanam ceremony in May would be my only short break, but a series of events during and after that time pulled me into a space where updating the blog was the last thing on my mind.

And honestly, I needed that break. I needed a distraction from the everyday chaos. So this past weekend, we headed to Houston. Nothing exotic, and certainly not a beach resort, but the hotel pool in humid Houston was more than enough to help me unwind. I was clearly vacation-starved. We spent our time lounging by the pool, eating good food, and catching up on sleep. Sometimes, that’s all you really need.

Naturally, my first post after a break wasn’t going to come from my kitchen, but from a restaurant instead. And if there was ever a place that justified breaking that pattern, it was Kiran’s. I’d heard Girish rave about this restaurant so many times that I finally had to experience it for myself.

It was Restaurant Week, so we were prepared for a long wait, but surprisingly, we were seated in about ten minutes. As we nibbled on papad and chutney, I took in the décor—sophisticated yet warm and inviting. We were handed both the Restaurant Week menu and the regular menu. I had heard so much about their roomali rotis (the Hindi word roomali means handkerchief, referring to how thin these rotis are) that we skipped the Restaurant Week options entirely and went straight for traditional rotis, dal, and sabzi. Girish suggested starting with the vegetarian seekh kebabs.

The menu itself is an interesting mix of traditional Indian dishes and creative fusion offerings—tandoori portabella mushrooms, Chilean sea bass with mango chutney, chocolate samosas. To be honest, I went in half-expecting the kind of pseudo-Indian fine dining experience that caters more to non-Indian palates while still calling itself Indian. That wasn’t fair to Kiran’s extensive menu of lamb, venison, crab, and seafood dishes, but that evening, I was focused solely on tasting her traditional vegetarian food.

We ordered pindi chana, dal makhni, and bhindi masala, paired with the famous roomali rotis. At first glance, the bhindi looked slightly undercooked, though the chana and dal seemed promising. I’ll admit, I was prepared to be critical. But surprise, surprise—the food was outstanding. From the vegetarian seekh kebabs (paneer and vegetables baked in the tandoor) to the dal makhni and even the bhindi, everything was deeply flavorful.

There was something refreshingly home-style about the food, not what I had expected from a fine-dining Indian restaurant. The dal makhni, in particular, reminded me of dhaba-style cooking—rustic, well-spiced, and comforting. The dishes weren’t weighed down by excessive butter or cream, which is often used in restaurants to mute spice levels. Instead, it was clear that Kiran’s was committed to preserving authentic, homemade Indian flavors, despite the elegant setting. And honestly, that combination worked beautifully.

As a generous gesture, the chef also sent us a sampling of her melon gazpacho. It was spiced just right for the Indian palate, with a tomato base, watermelon, chilies, and cilantro. The result was almost like a melon chutney in soup form—unexpected and very well executed.

After such a strong meal, dessert was non-negotiable. We asked the chef to surprise us. I didn’t want to limit myself to a traditional Indian dessert, so I was curious to see what would arrive. What we got was another highlight of the evening: her now-famous crème brûlée trio—pistachio, saffron, and cardamom. I already love crème brûlée, but this felt like crème brûlée meeting shrikhand. A perfect ending to an already memorable meal.

I’m not a professional reviewer, so ratings don’t mean much here, but if I had to sum it up, I’d give Kiran’s full marks for ambiance, service, creativity, and most importantly, flavor. And a special thanks to Kiran herself for giving me the perfect reason to return to RKK.