International Beat

Oh, To Eat In London

You can find the best of international restaurants in the food capital of the world, including Indian ones. JAVED GAYA picks his 10 favourites

I have been asked to rate the ten top Indian restaurants in London and whilst there are various criteria one can employ, in terms of innovation, quality of cooking, presentation, service, I think all these criteria are warranted, but there is still this gut feeling as to where I would like to really eat and best show off the grandeur of what is called the Indo-Malay cuisine. Ultimately, it is about the food, and whilst remarks are made about décor and service, those are secondary, but not an inconsiderable concern when one pays serious prices for these meals, sometimes the size of a Latin American country’s debt.

I would also like to say that when I speak about Indian food, I am not referring to food only from India, but from the sub-continent. No matter how much the Pakistanis and Bangladeshis may claim to be different in terms of food, the regionalism of the cuisine trumps the country as the political entity. Culture transcends all. The Punjabi and Bengali cuisines are also part of Indian cuisine and India has created its own faux Baluchi and frontier food. Bill Clinton for example would be surprised to know that the food at his favourite restaurant, Bukhara is not Indian.

I shall go in ascending order. I will start with one of my favourites, the Bombay Brasserie at the Bailey’s Hotel in Gloucester Road, just by the Tube Station. It is a cavernous restaurant with a colonial feel, an exquisite garden and running fountain, the perfect place for a Sunday brunch. It has kept that Raj look and in that regard, is charmingly dated; but who cares. There are many marks of Camellia Punjabi still in evidence; as it was one of the pioneers in introducing Indian cuisine of subtlety. The Scallops with Tomato Chutney a signature dish which epitomises the desire to enhance the flavour of the produce rather than smothering it. A brilliant take on the fish and chips, is the monkfish wrapped in a newspaper also mimicking the patra ni macchi, very witty.

Complaints have been made about the pricing and the quantities in the a la carte, and that is not without justification. One langoustine split came to £11.00! If one were to go, stick to the buffet.

The next restaurant is one that was trendy but has fallen on difficult times with the departure of its star chef, Atul Kochhar who was responsible for its Michelin star in the heady 90s, the Tamarind in Queen’s Street, Mayfair. The Tamarind places a premium on a standard of service, they run a valet service, pack your food beautifully, and cater. This in part, must be to compensate for the ghastly ambience, a rather sad basement; it has a somewhat offbeat menu, such as haleem as well as the main stream chicken tikkas, aloo mutter, etc. It is expensive and serving decidedly ungenerous, unfortunately Chef Alfred Prasad is not quite in the same league of Kochhar. It is also a case of Indian restaurant being around too long and with a largely English clientele, the food becoming blander and more “native”, the Bollywood and Indian Business Moghuls having moved on.

If the Bombay Brasserie and the Tamarind are “rip offs”, the restaurant I rate above them for authenticity, the Lahore Kebab House, cannot be accused of that. It is the closest thing you can get to an authentic Punjabi dhaba. It is in the East end and you can clearly find it by the queues of people waiting to get in. It is very basic, no alcohol is served, but they have no problem if you take a bottle. There is zilch atmosphere, other than the evening I went when I could see Shah Rukh Khan on all six TV screens, all showing the same channel. For starters, the lamb chops are truly awesome; they are double chops like triple and are robustly spiced and fried in a kadhai. Being Lahori, there is not so much emphasis on chicken, so the mutton tikkas were melt-in-the-mouth. The koftas were also exceptional and for the vegetarians there is paneer and chole. The prices are absurdly low, a plate of lamb chops came to £7.50.

The next restaurant could not be more different. The Painted Heron is in the fashionable and ultra chic Cheyne Walk overlooking Battersea Quays in Chelsea. It is a world away from the traditional curry house, even the name gives no clue as to its culinary provenance. The décor is minimalist, black chairs, wooden panels, almost Scandinavian without being Ikea. It is innovative and imaginative, concentrating on the coastal foods, with a witty take on poriyal, the French beans and coconut (from Kerala), delicious soft shelled crab with sesame and chilli butter. The use of local ingredients is inspired, for example, samphire, a wild, salty and crisp coastal plant used as a marinade for the iconic black cod (which is not cod at all, but that is a different story). When I went with friends for lunch, the charm was the intelligence and thought which went into the crafting of the menu and there were platters created in the thali style offering different elements of the menu.

The drawbacks were the poor service and a certain coldness in the décor. I must say that the seafood inspired platter which I had ordered was excellent and was not unreasonable for the quality of the ingredients and cooking.

I have always called Saloos the Gavroche of Indian food: it is traditional north Indian Muslim fare of a pre-partition character. It is located in the charming mews property off Wilton Place in that no man’s land between Knightsbridge and Belgravia. It has an extraordinary Egyptian maitre 'di who was an army officer and controls the restaurant with military precision. An English friend of mine made the comment that it didn’t offer a chicken tikka masala, and tends to be orientated towards lamb and game. This is a fair criticism, but that was what traditional north Indian Muslim food was, prior to its Punjabisation of north Indian food. Mr Salauddin the owner, was born and brought up in Dehrudun before his family left for Pakistan. So the food has distinctly UP character. The lamb chops are iconic, people come from far and wide to partake of them, they are the best you can get exquisitely spiced. The haleem is to die for; and it is one of the undiscovered treasures of this restaurant. But what I find irresistible is the yakni pilaf. It is a wondrous thing with the delicacy and subtlety one finds increasingly absent in this era of unnecessary innovation and excessive spice. If you order the raan and that needs 24 hours notice, it is the best raan you can get in London.

It may be stuck in a time warp and attract a certain kind of un-hip clientele, either from the sub-continent or from the locality, grand old money and the odd oligarch, but I cannot help liking it. It is a nostalgic glimpse backwards to another world, another time. Its drawbacks are its strengths, it is traditional, stuffy and entirely proper, but that takes nothing away from the truly awesome quality of the food, which is consistent and good.

Off the Kings Road is Rasoi, the flagship restaurant of Vineet Bhatia, formerly of Zaika. I had the fixed price lunch which was not cheap; it was in the range of around £60. He made a selection of kebabs, and tikkas including an absolutely delicious aloo tikki as starters. We then went to a fish course involving an exquisite halibut curry and a classical rogan josh, both beautifully presented.

The desserts included a rose petal ice cream, his famous Chocamousa (swiss chocolate in a fillo pastry like a samosa), and his latest creation, a chocolate mousse sitting on a chikki. His mastery of desserts is exceptional, another favourite from the a la carte is his pineapple marinated in sweet spiced butter with cardamom ice cream and coconut milk.

Despite his obvious creativity and flair, the restaurant is closed in (the perils of being located in a town house), the décor too busy (far too many cheap Rajasthani artefacts and clutter) and the prices too astronomic to warrant a higher position in our table.

The next restaurant, Quilon situated in the St. James’s hotel, owned by the Taj but on management by the Holiday Inn, has been awarded a Michelin star last year, an accolade which it richly deserves. There is nothing particularly impressive about the setting, and its location is not particularly easy to find. However, the genius of the Chef Aylur shines through. He has crafted a menu which places the emphasis on local ingredients – the use of asparagus, cod, and scallops in the most exotic and piquant settings. For starters, chef offers a Quilon salad, a beautiful coloured mélange of crunch peppers, water cress lightly spiced with curry leaves, chilli and coriander. Innovation is to the fore in the steamed asparagus with olive oil, mustard, curry leaves and coconut. I am not aware of Malayalis using the steaming technique for vegetables, but for the asparagus it works beautifully. For carnivores, there is a slowly cooked lamb shank with fennel (saunf) and mint. The main course in the menu shows an abundance of seafood, including baked black cod – a suitable homage to Morimuto’s iconic dish. I preferred the homely Kandapur fish curry; after all this innovation, it was honest and enjoyable. The bread basket included the Malabari paratha, one of the great contributions of Mopla cooking. Hot appams were served at the table, such a luxury.

Now for the 2nd and 3rd positions it is a toss up, because I am faced with two seriously good restaurants and two master chefs Atul Kochhar and Vivek Singh. For sheer atmosphere and Englishness, Cinnamon Club won hands down although the quality of the cuisine was more or less even.

So to Benaras, a rather odd name for a decidedly unspiritual restaurant, it has excess and affluence written all over it: what can be more sybaritic than being located over the Rolls Royce dealership in Berkerely Square Mayfair? You go up a lift and you are in heaven, your senses are assailed and entranced, candles, gerbera flowers floating in water are accentuated by the most fastidious lighting, which enhances the zen experience of eating being the ultimate meditation. I went there before the meltdown and the hedgefund managers quaffing champagne were still in evidence. The cocktails are brilliant if I recall I had a Mango Bellini, and the wine list is probably the best amongst all the 10 Indian restaurants. Once you enter into the restaurant the walls are a resplendent burgundy, which goes rather well with the dark wood furniture.

The appetisers were innovative including a pickled duck (Achari Batakh) which translated gastronomically meant a terrine of confit duck with pickling spices. I also had the crisp soft shell crab with squid salad, delightful. For the main course the dish which was truly memorable was Hiran Ki Boti, roasted spice crusted Roe Deer fillet with pear-chilli chutney and pickled pumpkin risotto. I have not come across anyone using the crust technique in Indian cooking as freely as Kochhar does. His use of English produce is inspired, the Amritsari fish (batter fried fish), his choice is John Dory which works brilliantly. The desserts were not particularly outstanding, not up to Vineet Bhatia’s standards.

In relation to the Cinnamon Club, I must declare an interest. One of my first jobs after school and before university was working in Westminster Libraries including the library at Great Smith Street which now houses the Cinnamon Club. So I knew the premises before it became transformed from a rather down-at-heel public libraray to its current avatar. It is an example of Victorian and Gothic grandeur, and coming from Bombay, it is easy to see the connection, there is use of Indian stone and marble. Being in the shadow of Parliament or atleast within hearing distance of the Division Bells, it attracts MPs and the English establishment in a way no Indian restaurant has succeeded. It has 4 rooms, and the bar area boasts some extraordinary cocktails including the Cinnamon Bellini.

Chef Vivek Singh, formerly of the Rajvilas in Jaipur concentrates on ensuring that the fresh produce which are sourced locally are not overwhelmed by the spices. For authenticity all spices are imported from India and ground properly as they should be. Like Kochhar he uses unusual produce in traditional settings and flavours, like the marvellous Barramundi (a fresh water fish generally imported from Australia) which he has sourced from the New Forest (in Hampshire) and cooks it in a Kerala curry sauce. He char-grills sword fish which is served with flash fried chilli squid. He makes a delightful asparagus raita. But what I really enjoyed was the tandoori squab Anjou pigeon, which was cooked exquisitely. The desserts were again not particularly inventive, the most intriguing, the saffron pear with cinnamon ice cream.

Now we hit the zenith, Amaya. This is the flagship of the Punjabi sisters in London and the chef is the remarkable Karunesh Khanna (formerly the executive chef at the Taj Holiday Village in Goa). It is situated in the Halkin Arcade in up market Belgravia.

It has an open kitchen with an enormous charcoal grill, that is the leitmotiv. Amaya is known as a grill and that is what it does best. Everyone likes grilled food, kebabs, tikkas and tandoori chicken with rich buttery naans, parathas and chappatis. The Indian genius has been the marination of the meats and the different techniques of cooking, much richer and varied than the Middle Eastern kebabs. We use a whole variety of techniques, ranging from the tandoor itself, a clay oven which originally was used for baking naans and became an oven for chicken post-independence at the famous Moti Mahal. There is the traditional charcoal grill for sheekh kababs and some people swear by it, I don’t think there is substitute; it gives the meat that smoky richness. There are the shammi or shikampuri kebabs traditionally pan fried, the Amaya has a splendid chicken shikampuri kebab, unusual in that all the shikampuri I have ever eaten have been mutton minced so finely that it is unreal. There is also the smoking technique of dungar which is used sparingly. This allied with hundreds of possible combinations of marinades makes for an exciting and rich grilled cuisine. Amaya makes this cuisine even more exotic by recreating the gamey cuisine which the Moghuls relished; quail is introduced and is delicate and exquisite. The mackerel with black pepper is also a delight. There are the English favourites like the meaty monkfish which tastes like lobster, lightly marinated to bring out the gossamer subtlety of the flavour. The richness of the meats is set off by relatively uncomplicated side dishes including the most delicious spinach, boiled, pureed and with a subtle tadka. The balancing is perfect, and that is the essence of a great gastronomic experience.

What is manifest is the extraordinary innovation and creativity not just with ingredients, but with techniques, for example, the notion of the crust particularly in relation to seafood. There is also a use of techniques half forgotten, the dungar technique of smoking, meat and fish. There is also a desire to bring Indian food into the mainstream, to intelligently pair it with wines, to place it in settings of grandeur and affluence as befits a truly great cuisine. This trend is unfortunately absent in contemporary India, where much of Indian cuisine remains in a torpor without any serious attempt to innovate and create. Yet most of the chefs I have spoken to and who I have praised, from Vineet Bhatia, Atul Kochhar, Vivek Singh are all products of Indian hotel groups, principally the Oberoi, there is something seriously wrong when such talented and creative individuals can find no voice or place in their home country and flourish abroad.