When the 5 Spices put up its shingle over in the Gerrard India Bazaar area late last year, I was excited. The sign, with its rich red background, its use of the numeral five and a giant, cartoonish chili pepper in place of the “I,” denoted a certain hipness relative to the ’hood. I thought maybe something new was coming to the all-you-can-eat-buffet and chaat-shack-laden strip. A menu taped inside the then-brown-papered front window heightened the anticipation, promising the Indian-Chinese fusionary fare known in India as Hakka. And when I found out that the joint was being launched by the folks who brought us the much-loved den of spicy vegetarianism, Udupi Palace (home of the spicy dosa eating contest!), five words popped quickly to mind: this is gonna be good.

That, of course, was before the paper came down and the doors opened to reveal the dining room area in all of its white-tiled, utilitarian-food-court-style glory. (Seriously guys, if Siddhartha across the street can do hardwood, so can you.) It was before I experienced the texturized-taste sensation that is 5 Spices’ sweet corn and chicken soup ($3.99) — a bowl of thick, viscous broth studded with granules of greyish-pink ground bird and Green Giant–fresh niblets — while taking in the jarring sounds of Bollywood gangster rap that seems to be in constant rotation on the speaker system overhead. And it was before my server, in response to a request for some plum sauce to go along with the pair of decently crisp and grease-free chicken-and-cabbage-stuffed spring rolls ($2.99), returned with a small pot of ketchup instead. Now, a couple of months and multiple visits later, I’m thinking something else entirely about 5 Spices: namely, just how the Hakka could they get it so wrong?

After all, there are signs that the people in the kitchen can cook. A sextet of light and airily battered jumbo shrimp ($10.50) is superb: cooked through to the middle, yet still easy on the denture gum. If they’d come with a couple of wedges of lemon — instead of a Mexicasa-style salsa, as they do — these massive-sized prawns couldn’t really get much better. And paneer poppers ($3.99) are crisp little nuggets of spicy, cheesy goodness that I may still find myself wandering over to pick up every now and then. Yet, in too many areas, it seems they just don’t get it.

Fried noodles ($7.95) amount to a clump of soggy spaghetti strands with a Spartan dose of peppers, onions and shredded Savoy cabbage in a tasty citrus sauce.

The fragrant stew of tomatoes and onions with enough bird’s-eye pepper heat to clear your sinuses for a week that gets featured in the Manchurian beef ($8.25) is tremendous, but the sugar-cube-sized chunks of dry, gummy meat it surrounds are so hard you could use them to key a car. (Or “beef” a car, or whatever. Seriously, though, this is some firm meat.)

Frittered cauliflower florets in the Manchurian gobi ($6.85) are also on the chewy side, but still pretty tasty, as is the accompanying green chili sauce, despite a slightly gelatinous consistency.
As for the 5 Spices chicken ($10.25), which is supposed to be one of the shop’s specialties, it turns out to be chicken tikka masala under a different name. Except, instead of moist, plump chicken like you get at other nearby restaurants, this one stars slices of woody, thirst-
inducing breast meat.

For the past century or so, there have been two separate culinary traditions called Hakka: the salted ducks and fermented bean sauces associated with the region of Hakka in China itself; and the curry-enhanced Indian version that has become popular (in the same way mall Chinese once was here) in places like Mumbai and New Delhi. Either, if you ever get the chance to actually try them prepared right, will get your tummy grooving just right. Thanks to 5 Spices, we can add a third version to the culinary lexicon of the world: Hakka-job cuisine. Something tells me this one won’t catch on in quite the same way.

» Do you have a favourite Hakka restaurant? Let us know in the Comments section below or email letters@eyeweekly.com.