Scarfes Bar at The Rosewood Hotel, Holborn - Review

Scarfes Bar, Rosewood Hotel

The Indian venues I have recently stumbled across - stuffing me with all things keema and seekh and sambar, cooked in tandoors and on tawas, and served in pretty copper karahis - have been doing it quite well. It seems I’m on a good-Indian roll. The most recent is Scarfes Bar, stashed away in the splendid Holborn neoclassical landmark that is now the Rosewood Hotel.

In a similar vein to Zumbura, Scarfes Bar is about as far from the well-worn and tired Indian high-street restaurants of yesteryear as you could hope to achieve. Firstly, it’s not a restaurant - it’s a bar. A beautiful, stately bar. A bar with the atmosphere of a drawing room and the sophistication of a gentlemen’s club. A bar you would equally be chuffed to find out was the destination of a first date, or the location of today’s business meeting. A bar with live music in the evenings and potions that make you squiffy after one if the day is warm.

It has a roaring fire (burning in June, even) and weighty wooden tables with velvet and leather chesterfield armchairs. Should the occasion call for an appreciation of the arts, the shelves are stocked with over 1000 antique books hand-picked by a Portabello antique dealer, and the walls are embellished with one-off paintings by renowned British artist and caricaturist Gerald Scarfe, who lends his name to the space.

Scarfes Bar, Rosewood Hotel

Don’t forget to relieve yourself, because the journey to the lavortary across the lobby provides a glimpse into the hotel’s elegant opulence. The £85m refurbishment of this building - opening as the Rosewood Hotel in October 2013 - is evident.  The overall aesthetic is modern, monochrome and metropolitan. “I’ve found the place I want to get married - here,” cooed my interior designer lunch partner. “You can tell they don’t get any riff-raff - I really like that.”

She could be right. Around us, there are mostly meetings - papers strewn across tables, suits made for air conditioning on hot days, a lot of mundane chat about ‘deliverables’ and ‘actions’ that our heady cocktails did wonders at tuning out. Expected, I suppose. We’re next to Chancery Lane and close to Farringdon. 

And so it is here you’ll find a mostly Indian lunch-time menu to partner with over 200 single malts and a specially-curated cocktail list that has few other intentions than to get you hammered - they’re no wall flowers. The food pares down to light dishes and bar snacks in the evening, and head chef Palash Mitra (previously at the Cinnamon Club) is behind it. I say ‘mostly Indian’; there are a few European-style casseroles thrown in for - what I can only assume - is good measure.

Scarfes Bar, Rosewood Hotel

There was a chaat (which I can’t find on the online menu) tart from tamarind, with a touch of heat and a flourish of plump pomegranate jewels; dug out with crisp sourdough, it was very pleasant. Crisp soft-shell crab with chorizo oil had a great texture, sat on a bed of sweet apple matchsticks, but could have done with a dollop of hot paprika mayo - or something similar - to loosen things up (£12).

Grilled asparagus and a runny egg accompanied soft hunks of well-spiced chicken tikka, arranged elegantly on a lot of hot green chutney; a brunch-time winner (£9). There were firm oblongs of paneer cooked with a mush of punchy spinach concealing generous slithers of ginger and fenugreek - very good (£19). Then there was flaking-away fresh-water fish from south India in a rich gravy with glorious hits of cardamom (£17), and glossy black daal marbled with yoghurt. 

King prawns with garlic and parsley - hailing from the slightly misplaced non-Indian entries - singled itself out by arriving on a board with crusty quarters of bread and a golden mound of what I think was a saffron mayonnaise. It was good (£17).

The cucumber raita was strained and thick, which pleased me greatly (I’m not the biggest fan of watery yoghurt - £4). Blistered and coriander-speckled naan was the preferred utensil of choice for the great job of sauce excavation that lay before us (£3.50).

Scarfes Bar, Rosewood Hotel

Scarfes Bar, Rosewood Hotel

If our dapper cocktails - plying us with their English sparkling wine, homemade vinegared shrub syrup, 18-year-old whiskeys, spice formulas that have seemingly been allocated hashtags (#GI08 - whatever that is), Victorian lemonade and elderflower foams - didn’t provide enough booze for a weekday lunch, the Bailey’s chocolate pot administered a final dose. It’s boozy and wanton, with a mousse bottom layer, frozen dark chocolate shavings, crunchy dark chocolate balls, and delivered on one of those antique books (£6).

The pricing seems a little haphazard. Starters, sides and desserts are reasonable. Some mains are down-right spendy for what they are. And cocktails come in at £14.50. One could very easily, and under the influence of such splendid surroundings, end up with a sore wallet at lunch. They know their target market, and their target market (I suspect) are people who 1) work close by or 2) have the sort of funds that enable them to stay at The Rosewood in the first place. 

The evening snack menu is nothing but reasonable, ranging from £5.50 for a smoke salmon pot with bread, to £13 for a burger or club sandwich.

I fully plan a revisit. It’s the after dark entertainment I’m after, with candlelight, live music and a higher level of general room inebriation. The connoisseurs behind the bar are calling me.

Liked lots: cocktails, food, interiors, staff, Giovanni - the wonderful bar manager
Liked less: some of the lunch mains feel steep
Good for: work, pleasure, impressing a date, solitary dining with a good book

My rating: 3.5/5

Afiyet olsun.

Note: I was invited as a guest to review this bar.

zumbura, clapham - review

The first thing you’ll notice about Indian restaurant Zumbura - nestled in the well-to-do idyll of Clapham Old Town - is that in almost every way, it does not feel like an Indian restaurant. 

The interiors: no linen, leather bound menus, chandeliers, or sitar recordings. Instead, a vivid ceiling butterfly-and-birdscape, and deep turquoise and bare brick walls embellished with wild flowers in slim glass vases. 

There’s a wooden bar of organic form laden with ingredients used in the kitchen including the namesake fruit zumbura (pomelo in Urdu) and fresh tamarind. The crockery is beautiful, imperfect, handmade, and purchased from a local pottery. Brass light fittings with bare bulbs adorn the walls, chairs are seemingly salvaged classroom-style wood and metal, and there’s a presence of shabby chic nick-nacks.

It feels altogether South American to me, reinforced by the large and full-on Argentinian family force at the table one over having a rollicking time in Spanish, and another table of three Spanish friends. They even have tequila on the after-dinner digestif menu.

The agreeable interiors can no doubt be attributed to the trio behind the enterprise - co-founders of furniture retailer Dwell, Aamir Ahmad, Sean Galligan and David Garrett. The kitchen and the food cooked in it often make the heart of a home, so whilst sidestepping from the furniture business to restaurateur seems a little off-tangent, I suppose a (tenuous) link could be argued.

The staff: an absence of any sub-continental front-of-house. 

The food: clean, sprightly, fresh, vibrant; small plates intended for sharing, Indian-tapas style. There are no superfluous and sorry-looking lettuce plate adornments. There is no poppadom fodder to make you thirsty and order more alcohol. There are no layers of oil pooling on the surface of sauces (I know people who stick the edge of a serviette in to absorb the excess sin before eating).

Chef Raju Rawat (previously in the kitchens of Bombay Bicycle Club, The Cinnamon Club and Michelin-starred Benares) was drafted in to help achieve Ahmad’s vision: to create a British Indian restaurant authentic to the cooking found in traditional Punjab homes, without the customisation so often used to appease western palates at the detriment of dishes. 

If his intention is for the food to taste like no other found in Indian restaurants, then based on my restaurant repertoire, he’s nailed it.

Spinach and onion pakoras, battered in chickpea flour and lightly fried were entirely without grease, blisteringly hot straight from the oil, sporting a flourish of fresh coriander and nothing short of a delight dipped into the tart and sour imli (tamarind) and green chutneys (£4.50).

A nod to the Indian street-side favourite that is chaat - bread fried to a crisp and puffed rice, doused in a calming yoghurt and a piquant ginger tamarind sauce, and entertaining a mix of tangy, salty spices - one of my favourite plates and one for the teeth as much as the taste buds (£4.50).

Potato cakes were smooth and delicately spiced rounds, providing a further great medium for the zippy chutneys (£4.50)*, and the chapli kebabs were handsome, dark and slightly charred disks, soft patties of beef kneaded with garlic, ginger and spices (£7.50)*. Breaking either of these apart revealed the still-vibrant presence of component ingredients - coriander leaves, onions. It all feels like it was made moments before, and probably was.

Firm and nutty kala chana (black chickpeas - my favourite form of this pulse and incidentally, my preferred choice when making humous) braised over time with onion and mango powder was an earthy, wholesome bowl of texture and flavour (£4.50). A yellow daal cooked with curry leaves and garlic, was thick enough to hold its form when spooned onto a plate (£4), the bowl quickly excavated with the help of warm parathas and naan making up the bread selection (£4.50).

* these portions include three pieces - we were given two (as seen in the photos) as were sampling many dishes for the purpose of the review.

Opaque hunks of coley spiked with mustard seeds and fenugreek was great (£8.50), with basmati assisting the mopping of the sauce. The kullia stew of lamb and turnip was arrestingly aromatic, with sweet and slightly translucent hunks of root veg, flaking meat, bones to suck on, and the sort of gravy cleared so completely, kitchen staff may well have wondered if they had put anything in the bowl in the first place (£7.50).

For a sweet close, there are a handful of traditional desserts - chilled rice pudding with cardamom, buttery semolina, and gajar ka halwa - a very nicely done warm and creamy amalgamation of grated carrot, milk and sugar (not too much) topped with pistachios (£3.50). You won’t go far wrong with ice creams or sorbets either - pistachio intensely represented, mango fruity and refreshing (£3). 

I’m yet to mention I worked 30 seconds walk from Zumbura from the day it opened in November last year until I left that job in March this year. Colleagues tried it, but I never got round to paying a visit. Lost time, of which I will be making up for.

This is a great neighbourhood local offering something quite different to the rest of the Indian dining scene - finally the sort of Indian restaurant food you really could eat every day.

Liked lots: the completely different feel to other Indian restaurant in all aspects, wonderful staff
Liked less: I'll get back to you
Good for: eating great Indian without the associated ghee-laden self-loathing

My rating: 4/5

Afiyet olsun.

Note: I was invited as a guest to review this restaurant.

chakra, notting hill - review

Many a cow sacrificed itself to kit out Chakra in Notting Hill. Whilst there is an expected absence of beef on the menu, there is a strong bovine presence; leather covered tables, sunken cream leather chairs and dimpled leather banquets, padded leather walls - there’s potential to moonlight as a sectioning ward. 

The space does initially feel like someone went wild at the everlasting DFS sales. The off-white colour scheme is one most restaurateurs would run a mile from, particularly for a cuisine with staining powers that would render even the most concentrated dose of Vanish as redundant. 

But along with the shimmering chandeliers, classy cocktails, well-drilled waiting staff, and clientele that boasts a few celebrities, it packages very nicely as an up-market and lavish dining destination set in an affluent part of town.

Owned by Andy Varma also acting as executive chef (having previously launched the now closed Varma in Chelsea), the menu aims to bring the traditions of the Maharajah kitchen to diners. The atmosphere encourages customers to come in, sit a while, and take their time; seating is just about the most comfortable I’ve come across in a restaurant, if you’re partial to feeling like you’re in a living room whilst eating.

All tables were presented with small bites of delicately spiced red kidney bean kebab with good texture, and a complimentary three-tiered assembly of vessels housing chutney and fresh, crisp poppadoms scattered with cumin seeds.

Khumb bharwa received immediate approval from our waitress, “They’re one of my favourite things on the menu” - buttons stuffed with cool paneer and potato, spiked with sweet pomegranate and coated in a vibrant yoghurt marinade (£9.95).

Smoked Gressingham duck breast rolled in spices - the meat relaxed by the tenderising qualities found in papaya - was quite spectacular. A texture and richness in iron similar to chicken liver (which I adore) - smooth and gamey and with little bits of char that caught the heat. The accompanying salad was entirely superfluous, but they’re difficult to get away from in Indian restaurants. But that duck was great (£13.95).

In the same breath, patiala chaap lamb chops that had spent valuable time wallowing in a lemon, yoghurt and garam masala marinade with presence of cardamom, were, simply put, the best texture of this cut I have encountered. It’s they’re signature dish and they’re proud of it:

“We call them the second best lamb chops in London.”

“Who is the first?”

“Well we think it’s us, but we can’t say we’re the first.”

The modesty. Meat soft enough to make molars an entirely unnecessary accessory in the endeavour of eating them (£14.50).

When you’re on such a good red meat roll, it’s difficult to stop. Using a recipe from Aminabad in Lucknow, flattened patties of venison galouti kebabs with chilli, garlic and ginger were as pleasing between the teeth as they were on the taste buds (£11.50). Parcels packed with flavour, more softness.

Filaments of Rajastan-inspired lightly battered and fried okra were salty, well spiced and supremely crisp, exposed seeds a little puffed up from the heat. Sporting a flourish of mango powder and roasted aromatic carom seeds, they were impossible to leave alone. Someone needs to package these and sell them with cold beer - I can think of few better things to snack on (£4.75 / £9.95).

A luxurious black daal cooked long and low, finished with cream and fenugreek (£4.75 / £8.50) was a delight with butter paratha (£3.50). A bowl of tandoori roasted and pureed aubergine cooked down with ginger and onions (£4.95 / £9.50) had us dragging the mush up the sides, scooped up in torn bits of peshwari naan (£3) and popped into mouths.

The food here was more than pleasing, with a particularly favourable nod towards the meat dishes. My one gripe is the price point. Some things feel expensive for the volume you receive. The chops were indeed magnificent, but £14.50 for two small ones is a lot. A tenner for five little stuffed mushrooms is a lot. As is three quarter slices of paratha for £3.50 and a bowl of raita for £5.50.

Notting Hill isn’t my local neighbourhood. If it was, it would probably mean my financial circumstances would be such that I’d barely notice the optimistic prices. And it seems this is the case for those who are locals.

On arrival at 1pm on Sunday there was one couple seated, soon followed by the well-to-do - more couples, groups of friends, Indian families. I suspect they’ve been before, and none seemed deterred by the prices. I suppose business is all about knowing your market and something is only worth what others are willing to pay for it. Whilst an outsider of the well-heeled Notting Hill elite may feel it's expensive here, it seems to be appropriate for its location.

There is undoubtebly good cooking taking place in Chakra’s kitchens. If you’ve got the pockets for it, it’s certainly a worthy visit as part of London’s Indian dining scene.

Liked lots: the way the kitchen has with red meat, Rajastani okra fries, very good service, they do a very pleasant lychee and mint mojito that isn’t too sweet
Likes less: it feels expensive compared to other Indian restaurants of a similar caliber
Good for: having a splurge and enjoying a good meal whilst doing so

My rating: 3.5/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

Note: I was invited as a guest to review this restaurant.

gaylord, soho - event

I like to think when it comes to putting it away, I can run with the best of them. I’m no Black Widow but for my stature, I put in a commendable effort. Tasting menus are a good test of stamina. Seven, sometimes nine courses with an amuse-bouche and petits fours often leave diners steeping in their own digestive juices, torsos stretched and floor walks made to redistribute the contents of convex abdomens in an attempt to find room for dessert; top trouser buttons discreetly undone two hours ago and only three courses in.

You can imagine my wide-eyed expression then, of both anticipation and fear of death, when faced with an evening menu involving no less than: three amuse-bouches, six starters, five mains, five sides, two desserts and endless wine - I make that 21 separate dishes. I should have worn my elastic pants.

Gaylord is a smartly furnished (in that princely old-school handsomeness long-serving Indian restaurants often do) and established West End fixture of the dining scene focussing on Mughlai and North Indian cuisine. Established in 1966, it is part of a large group with a sister Gaylord in Mumbai and was the first to house a tandoor oven in the UK. It was also the chosen venue for a dinner organised by the restaurant review platform Zomato for some of their most prolific contributors - they know how to put on a good show. 

Crisp puri spheres containing a little potato and chickpea and filled at the table with flavoured water and tamarind chutney were demolished whole in the mouth, just before the liquid made a break for the table linen. Cones of fluffed up and chewy rice, vegetables and a tangy tamarind sauce (bhel puri) were tasty nods to the classic Mumbai beach snack. The flavours and textures of crunchy, aromatic, hot and sweet aloo papdi chaat came together very well in one mouth-swoop over the spoons they were presented on.   

Meaty prawns marinated in saffron and tandoori masala provided good resistance against the molars. The burnished-orange tilapia fillets fried in a paprika gram flour batter were less interesting, but the mint chutney side-kick worked wonders at lifting. Murg gilafi clove smoked minced chicken manipulated around skewers and presented alongside mild tandoor roasted chicken tikkas were delicately flavoured, but the stellar meat was the lamb in the form of expertly cooked Anardana chops and minced patties.
 

The former marinated in ginger and grilled, still a deep pink at the centre with charred corners and a splendid amount of fat disintegrating on the tongue, with seasoning good enough to call for teeth-stripping of any remaining flesh from the bones. The latter soft and yielding to the point of it unrecognisable as animal based, but with all the depth of flavour you could hope from it.

The butter chicken was very good, an unmistakable smokiness from the presence of fenugreek. Prawn coconut curry, delicately spiced and aromatic from kaffir lime leaf and mustard seeds, provided a perfect medium via which to absorb the saffron basmati . A fiery garlic, onion and tomato masala in which hunks of lamb had been stewed until flaky represented the corner for rogan josh rather well (even if with a little too much oil), with puréed spinach elevated by a lot of ginger representing the corner for paneer.

Slow-cooked (overnight) dal bukhara and chickpeas with a secret spice mix were both bowls of hearty and comforting pulses, providing much needed fibre amongst a table creaking under it’s own weight of sauced-up protein. Naans and rice and puris filled with scalding steam helped to mop-up and a number of chutneys - including a great homemade lime pickle - complimented the spread.

The malai kulfi was very agreeable - dense and solid from the reduction of milk and sporting a twist of cardamom and a flourish of chopped pistachio. And it was my first encounter of gulab jamun (made from milk solids) flambéed in dark rum; the sort of dessert you should run round the block to make room for between courses. It was celestial, despite me fighting unconsciousness by this point.

We had it all, and it was laid on thick. A constant flow of wine and cocktails, a magnum of posh 5-grape South African something-or-other which I know nothing about other than it tasted really great, attentive service from Sameer (the General Manager) and his team with explanations of each of the unending conveyor belt of dishes, and the remaining doggy-bagged for some good eating the following day. 

The restaurant takes a lot of pride in what it does - it shows. There’s tough competition from the likes of Gymkhana and Trishna, and the very accessible and more contemporary Dishoom these days. But Gaylord has survived on its own merits with a loyal following and good food coming from the kitchen, all contributing to a restaurant that continues to fill seats.

I’ve had more comfortable sleeps than I did that evening, but it was worth it. As always, a huge thank you to Zomato for the blowout - you don’t half do them well.

Liked lots: lamb chops, lamb patties, kulfi, gulab jamun, service, location, atmosphere
Liked less: fried tilapia, I expect bills can quite easily creep up when entertaining alcohol
Good for: a big Indian blow-out

My rating: 3.5/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

Note: I was invited as a guest to this event.

 

RECIPE: chicken saag and coriander chapatis

chicken saag and coriander chapatis

As the ever-perceptive Homer Simpson once sang whilst shaking his backside in a conga line during an archetypal The Simpsons moment, “You don’t win friends with salad”.

Unless, you can transform a load of greens into something everyone wants to eat - a curry. A great tasting one at that and likely to be healthier than most ‘salads’ on the market.

I've come across a fantastic 7,000 word article covering the 34 science-backed health benefits of spinach written by Helen Nichols over on Well-Being Secrets. Awesome bedtime reading, should you still needed convincing about spinach.

A chicken saag is a curry consisting of the meat cooked in a spiced sauce made from some type of leafy green - mustard leaves, finely chopped broccoli, fenugreek (methi) or in this case, spinach. There is a lot of good in this dish and it’s low in fat. So it’s a good option for all the self-restraint we’re (supposed to be) exercising at this time of year. Serve with rice to mop up the sauce, or some warm and freshly made coriander chapatis (below).


Chicken Saag 

Serves 4

260g fresh spinach leaves
1 thumb sized piece of fresh ginger, chopped
3 green chillies
2 garlic cloves
30ml rapeseed oil
8 whole black peppercorns
3 bay leaves
1 tsp cumin seeds, ground (or ready ground cumin)
1 tsp coriander seeds, ground (or ready ground cumin)
2 small white onions, chopped
4 tomatoes, chopped
2 tsp mild madras curry powder
1 tsp garam masala
4 skinless chicken thighs with bone, flesh scored
4 skinless chicken legs with bone, flesh scored
5 tbsp low fat yoghurt
Sea salt
Coriander leaves (optional)


Cook the spinach in a pan with a tight fitting lid on a medium heat until wilted - there is no need to add water or oil. Push it about a bit with a wooden spoon. Once wilted, transfer the spinach to a food processor. Add the ginger, chillies (de-seed them if you want to remove some of the heat), garlic and 50ml of water. Blitz until smooth.

Pour the oil into the same pan and on a medium heat, fry the peppercorns and bay leaves until the former begin to pop. Add the cumin and coriander, stir, and cook for a further minute. Add the onions and a pinch of salt, stir and cover. Cook until soft and brown, about 10 minutes - give the onions a nudge now and again with the spoon to prevent any sticking.

Tip Retain any water that condenses in the lid when you lift it to stir - allow it to fall back into the onions.

Add the tomatoes, stir and cook for another 3 minutes. Add the garam masala and curry powder and cook for further 3 minutes.

To this pan add the spinach mix, combine well and cook for another 5 minutes. Stir in the yoghurt, a tablespoon at a time. When fully mixed, add the chicken and combine until they're well coated. Simmer with the lid on until the chicken is cooked through, about 20 minutes. Remove the lid and raise the heat so the sauce begins to boil. Keep stirring and turn off the heat once you’re happy with the consistency of the sauce. Taste for seasoning and feel free to add more yoghurt if it has too much chilli heat.

Serve in warmed bowls with a sprinkle of fresh coriander leaves, a drizzle of yoghurt and some coriander chapatis (below). And by the way, this tastes even better the next day.

288 kcal per serving*

Coriander Chapatis

Makes 15

300g chapati flour
1 tsp rapeseed oil
80g coriander leaves, finely chopped
5g sea salt
2 tbsp low fat natural yoghurt

Sift the flour into a large bowl and add the coriander, salt and oil. To this add 3/4 cup of warm water and the yoghurt. Combine in the bowl with a wooden spoon until it creates one mass and then turn out onto a floured surface. Knead for 10 minutes or until smooth, no longer sticky and it springs back if you poke it. Place the dough into an oiled bowl, cover with a tea towel and leave to rest in a warm place for 15 minutes.

Divide the mass into 15 equal pieces. To do this weigh the whole mass and divide by 15 - the result is how much each piece should weigh, around 45g. Roll each piece into a ball between the palms of floured hands. With a rolling pin and on a floured surface, roll each ball out into the shape of a rough circle with the thickness of a 50p coin (around 2mm).

Heat a non-stick frying pan or tawa over a high heat for a minute. Put a chapati in the pan - when it begins to puff up and bubble, turn it over. You want each side to have browned and blistered a bit. Repeat with the rest of the chapatis. Don't over cook these or they will become hard.

Tip As each chapati is cooked, place it in a pile with the rest and keep the pile wrapped in a clean tea towel, rather than on a cold plate for example. This will prevent any condensation gathering under the bread.

These are wonderful eaten warm and fresh. Alternatively, keep them in an airtight container and consume within a day or so. Or you can wrap them in cling film and freeze them. If you do, place them in a warm oven to thoroughly heat up before serving.

71 kcal per chapati*

Afiyet olsun.

*calories are a close approximation calculated using My Fitness Pal.

gymkhana, mayfair - review

There has already been much said about Gymkhana, the Indian restaurant in Mayfair decked out to transport guests to the high-society social sports clubs (gymkhanas) of British Raj India. Most of it, if not perhaps all, consist of glowing testimonials: Jay Rayner advises getting ‘armpit deep in a menu which is not afraid to make a mark’; Grace Dent hails it as ‘one of the greatest restaurant openings London has seen in 2013’; and Fay Maschler gave it a rare 5 stars, describing the Muntjac biriyani as the best she’s had outside Hyderabad.  

The nature of my interests (food and eating it) have me devouring as many restaurant reviews as I can cast my eyes over - they greatly influence the order in which I intend to visit my ever-growing list of venues. 

Whilst I respect the opinions made by the industry stalwarts, I don’t always agree with them: Dent is in love with Casse-Croute - I thought it was marginally better than ok; I couldn’t get past the overriding flavour of ‘bland’ at Mishkin’s whereas Rayner loved the place despite acknowledging the shortfalls; not a lot of people like the filth-fest burgers from Shake Shack, however I think they are supreme. 

But when it comes to Gymkhana, it seems those who enjoy good food are uniting in a collective gush of, ‘yep, this place is pretty great’ - me included.

Opened in September by Karam Sethi of Michelin starred Trishna fame, Gymkhana serves modern Indian food showcasing British ingredients, with a focus on the tandoor oven and sigri charcoal grill. 

The restaurant is split across two levels. The lacquered dark chocolate oak floor on entrance is mirrored by the wood ceiling. The room is flanked by a handsome marble bar, furniture and booths are more heavy wood and leather, ceiling fans and wall lamps are cut glass from Jaipur, and faded sporting photographs and stuffed animal head trophies adorn the walls. Even the front door is an imposing and colossal thing of beauty. 

If the interiors were designed to make guests feel like members of an exclusive club, the service and atmosphere is well matched. Whilst inside is saturated with classy grandeur and sophistication (even the kama sutra coat tags manage this), it is an exceedingly welcoming and comfortable place to enjoy a meal.

Any intention to stick to the value early evening menu that accompanied our 17.30 reservation was forgone once we caught sight of the a la carte entries all sounding too glorious to ignore. 

Cassava, lentil and potato papads were light and crisp, tasting of their respective primary ingredients and served with a fresh and sweet mango and a spicy shrimp chutney delivered in brass pots. A venison keema (minced) naan flirting from the page is not something that can be easily overlooked - quartered and laced with fine strips of fiery green chilli it was very good for mopping up other delights on the table, but to stand on its own needed a greater presence of meat.

The butter chicken was very hot with chilli but lacked in depth to compete with the rest of what we engulfed, which were really very good indeed. Minced kid goat with methi (fenugreek) was a kadhai full of the sort of saucy deep rich minced magnificence you could easily fall face first into, topped with crisp fried potato matchsticks (salli), and served with warm and glossy soft buns to assist the scooping and devouring.

A small aromatic pile of minced duck hidden like treasure beneath a conical kimono silk thin dosa was just about as glorious in its existence as I suspect duck could ever be - heavy with a host of determined flavours jostling each other on the tongue for attention, utterly satisfying and my second favourite dish of the evening.

The number one spot was filled by the Gilafi pheasant seekh kebab - cooked to an unrivalled perfection rendering the texture of the skewed meat softer on the palate than I’ve ever experienced. Arrestingly aromatic and complex with such a well executed combination of flavours, it was simply divine. The vibrant pickled green chilli chutney it came with provided a much needed slap around my otherwise stunned face.

Sides and condiments consisted of small and perfectly round blushed pink discs of slightly sweet pickled radishes, creamy pomegranate and mint raita, red onion and chilli salad, and a metal basket of three quality flavoured naans (although one was crisp rather than soft which was a bit upsetting). 

Dessert was a heavily perfumed carrot halva tart with crisp pastry and a cardamom cream that tasted like the smell of the liquid freshener doused onto your hands during long coach journeys in Turkey - a bit too much like eating an Interflora delivery but still enjoyable.

I made an odd observation considering the favourable and recent press: there weren’t that many other diners. We left at 7.45 on a Saturday night with the ground floor area not even half full and the downstairs completely empty apart from a couple of tables. 

Perhaps my weekend dining hours are distorted and no one in their right mind eats out before 8pm. Either way, I noticed in the following couple of days Gymkhana welcomed Nigella Lawson dining with Salman Rushdie, and Yotam Ottolenghi. It’s clearly the place to eat at right now, and rightly so. With a menu as enticing as theirs, subsequent visits to work through the whole offering are imminent.

Liked lots: service, quality of design and interiors, welcoming and accommodating atmosphere, duck dosa, kid goat mehti, pheasant sheekh kebab, condiments, serving vessels

Liked less: butter chicken

Good for: higher-end Indian dining, a special occasion (or not - as Dent says in her review ‘Life is too damn short for special occasions’), interesting choices of meat for the cuisine (i.e. pheasant, muntjac, guinea fowl, partridge, duck), a really great meal

My rating: 4.5/5

Afiyet olsun.