Amba

Spice before the room fills

Spice hits the pan before the room fills. Douglas Katz works as restaurateur at Amba in Cleveland, carrying a bench trained at Culinary Institute of America into Hingetown. What it does make clear is the shape of the work: shareable Indian fusion plates, a small-plates pass, and a room built for conversation rather than ceremony.

Katz’s Cleveland practice has moved through fire food and drink in Shaker Square, Zhug in Cleveland Heights, Kiln, and Amba. The through-line is not a single cuisine held in place, but a method of using heat, spice, acid, and texture to loosen the table. At Amba, his role is restaurateur, the person setting the conditions for the hands at the pass: the menu architecture, the mood of the room, the way a dish lands between cocktail, chai, and smoke. His training gives the frame; his Cleveland projects give the lineage.

Small plates with spice in the foreground

The program at Amba moves by accumulation. Crispy Puris arrive as a first crackle, then Popcorn Chicken with Thai Basil and Amchur pushes sour fruit and herbs against the fry. Lentil Donuts, Grilled Chicken Kofta, and Pea Samosas keep the table in motion, each plate scaled for passing rather than possession. The format matters. Katz’s Amba is not organized around a single main course and its orbiting sides; it asks the pass to build rhythm from repeat gestures, sauces, fried edges, grilled meat, and the soft weight of lentils.

The beverage side stays in the same register. Craft cocktails sit beside chai-spiced bourbon, giving the bar a spice cabinet of its own rather than treating drinks as a separate performance. The wine program is standard, which leaves the sharper signature to the mixed glass and to the food’s aromatics. In Katz’s own language, the work at Zhug, Amba, and Kiln is meant to create “fulfilling, transportive and authentic experiences that nurture and inspire guests.” At Amba, that purpose lands through the share plate, the lifted spice, and the return of heat to the center of the table.

Rope, rattan, low light

The room works close to the food. Black surfaces hold the light down; thick rope and rattan shades cut the edges of an industrial shell into something more tactile. The space is museum-like and bench-side, a dark room arranged so the aromas can lead. Simmering spices move before the plates do. Conversation can stay at the table.

That restraint gives the pass room to work. Amba’s mood is intimate without turning hushed, polished without drifting into stiffness. The attached cocktail lounge extends the same vocabulary, with the back bar carrying the spice and the dining room carrying the heat. If Katz’s wider Cleveland work is about gathering people around flavor, Amba keeps the proof close to the hand: Crispy Puris, chai-spiced bourbon, and the low-lit room in Hingetown.