dishoom, covent garden - review

The main encounters I have with Indian food involve the always excellent, authentic and homemade doggy bags Indian friends bring me; leftovers from what seem to be almost weekly occurrences of some sort of event revolving around the eventual climax of a wedding – engagement parties; pre-engagement parties, pre-wedding parties, a pre-party party (these guys know how to have a good time). Or, dining out at a good local curry house – I tend to gravitate to those catered for the Eastern palette rather than customised for the West. A good example of these are Saravana Bhavan or Lahori Karahi (the latter more Pakistani cuisine than Indian). If you find natives in a curry house, you know there’s a decent chance of it being both good and authentic as is the case with both of these.
 
What I haven’t really experienced is making a specific trip to a ‘proper’ Indian restaurant as opposed to a curry house. I see the differences being that the former would be a larger establishment well kitted out, centrally located rather than local, innovative dishes alongside traditional, enticing interiors, and with most if not all of their business coming from meals dined on the premises rather than take-away. Dishoom in Covent Garden certainly ticks these boxes, but it was hard to dismiss an almost glaring observation on this visit – amongst the packed out tables and ever increasing queue outdoors, it was a challenge to spot a single person of Indian heritage.

If I had stepped into a venue that hadn’t already bowled me over with some wonderful aromatics as soon as I had entered and descended down the steps into the basement bar, this observation would have set alarm bells ringing. But this place achieved just that, and along with some questionable over-Americanised but well intended greetings from a person not in waiting uniform and a cocktail quickly in my hand, I was more than ready to see if what came out of the kitchen matched the jaunty and vibrant vibes from the front of house.

My companions and I ordered what seemed to be almost every third dish from the menu – each entry read as something I wanted to consume and it was challenge to apply a filter to prevent a cry of ‘we’ll take one of everything’. But realistic we remained, and within mere minutes of ordering our table surface area soon dwindled as plate after plate was delivered.

The ‘small plates’ or starter proportions were generous, with a cereal bowl sized vessel presented to us, and actually with a component of cereal in it. It was the bhel - a sort of upmarket Bombay mix with the addition of puffed rice (just like Rice Krispies but without the sugar), seasoned with lime and mint, speckled with jewels of sweet pomegranate kernals, and a hell of a lot of ginger - never a bad thing. It was crunchy, spicy and very flavoursome. The bowl of skate cheeks (the cheeks of skate – who knew fish even had cheeks) were battered and looked like appetising chicken nuggets but with a better colour. They were accompanied by a fruity date and tamarind chutney which helped lubricate what were otherwise slightly dry bites. Okra fries were a great take on busying the fingers with the familiar form of chips but green, spiced and salty.

okra fries, bhel and skate cheeks

okra fries

From the grills we chose two meats and a vegetarian option. The paneer tikka while spiced did not lose its delicate flavour which I felt was quite impressive. It was the texture that was more so though - one that gave way to more of a crumble under pressure than previous experiences I’ve had with the cheese, quite delightful. The murgh malai consisted of chicken thigh meat seasoned with garlic, ginger and coriander – while tender and moist, the depth of spice and flavour did not quite lend itself to the expectations from the overnight marinade it had received. The lamb boti kebab however was outstanding – furry with the fibre of ginger, tender and moist, seasoned with impact from a whole host of spices – completely delicious and I could have done with a portion to myself.

paneer tikka

lamb boti kebab

murgh malai

To provide a purpose for our naans and kimono-silk thin roomali roti, a thick and creamy bowl of the house black daal was ordered – while relatively mild in its inclusion of spice, the texture was completely gorgeous and one of my favourite things on the table (after the lamb) for this reason. It reminded me a lot of refried beans and with a squeeze of lime and fresh coriander it could have been Mexican – a bigger stamp from Indian spices would have helped differentiate it more. But this did not detract at all from the pleasure it yielded. The portion of raita to help cool the table off was of generous soup proportions and my personal preference would have liked it a little more strained.

roomali roti and garlic naan

house black daal

Dishoom sells itself as a fond memory to the fast dwindling and traditional cafés of Bombay. While it’s hard for me to tell if the dishes that come out of its kitchen are true to these roots (I’ve never been to Bombay, let alone a Bombay cafe), I don’t think it really matters. Perhaps this is the reason I found too few natives within, but while the food is delicious and the staff are friendly, the restaurant will continue to be busy and I think rightly so. Don’t discount your local curry house now that Dishoom is here as there is no need to – what they provide are two quite different range of products and experiences.

It’s not possible to secure a table for less than six for dinner, but you can for breakfast and lunch reservations. I was quite eager to top the night off with some of their warm and spiced house chai, but caffeine after 3pm for me these days will render a sleepless night. All the more reason to return and perhaps try out a different time of day – I can think of few things more appealing than starting off a weekend with a buttered bun maska or two dipped into spicy hot chai. Already there.

Alfiyet olsun.

pepparkakor - swedish ginger thins

If you've ever stepped into a supermarket in Sweden (the food section in your local Ikea will provide the next best alternative, albeit possibly with equine occupation) you may know about pepparkakor. 

If the name doesn't ring a bell, the description may - very thin and very crisp dark spiced biscuits, also known as ginger thins or ginger snaps. I picked up a couple of boxes when visiting Stockholm over Easter, one for home and one to take to work for colleagues. Turns out I ate most of both boxes as it's almost impossible to dull the come hither tones of their unique texture and mildly fiery flavour. 

They're not like any other biscuit I've encountered - incredibly light and completely void of moisture lending to their unmistakable crispness. And those who did get a chance to dip in a paw before I managed to scoff the contents of both boxes thoroughly enjoyed them for the same reasons.

Short of having to drive to Ikea in Croydon every time I wish to replenish the stock (which has long since dwindled to a painful pepparkakor void), I soon realised the only solution would be to find a recipe and make them (regularly) myself. 

After quite a bit of research, it turns out achieving the signature snap is a challenge. There are online stories of bakers making dozens of batches with varying degrees of ingredients, still unable to claim victory over the elusive and unique texture. Suggestions involve excluding any fat whatsoever in order to remove all moisture. Others say bake for longer at a lower temperature. Further advice speaks of using very strong and unfamiliar raising agents for the tough dough.

Well, I found a recipe and a process that read right to me. I tried it, and I nailed it first time. If you want to achieve the same texture and flavour as those boxed Swedish thins, use this recipe.

This recipe is from Cook's Illustrated Magazine (November 2011) and is an absolute corker. It is also incredibly quick and easy to make the dough - the majority of your time will be spent rolling and cutting out the individual biscuits. 

The recipe suggests this makes about 80 biscuits but I've ended up with double - I suspect I've rolled the dough half as thin as the recipe has. So  if you do in fact want 80, I would half the below ingredients. Or you'll end up with 160 biscuits filling up two large Tupperware boxes. Not a bad situation to be in, in my opinion. Keep them airtight and they'll last you for as long as two people with an average biscuit intake would need to eat them.

Pepparkakor

Makes 80 (or around 160 very thin ones as in the pictures)
2 1/2 cups plain flour

2 tsp bicarbonate of soda

1/2 tsp salt

170g unsalted butter

4 tbsp ground ginger

2 tsp ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp ground cloves

1/4 tsp pepper

Pinch cayenne

1 1/4 cups packed dark brown soft sugar

1/4 cup molasses or black treacle

1 large egg plus 1 large yolk

Mix the flour, bicarbonate of soda and salt together in bowl. In the meantime, heat the butter in a pan over a medium heat until melted. Lower the heat to medium-low and continue to cook, swirling the pan frequently, until the foaming subsides and the butter is just beginning to brown. Turn off the heat.

Whisk in all the spices and then add the brown sugar and molasses to the butter mixture and whisk to combine until the sugar has melted and you have a smooth mixture. Add the egg and yolk and mix again with the whisk to combine. You should have a dark, sticky, smooth and glossy mixture.

Pour this mixture into your bowl of flour and combine with a spatula until you have a dough - don't over work it. Cover the bowl with cling film and keep in the fridge for the butter to firm, at least an hour.

Adjust your oven racks to upper-middle and lower-middle positions and heat the oven to 130C (fan). Line two baking trays with non-stick baking paper or silicone paper. Break off a portion of the dough and with your hands mound into a round and squash down. Take a rolling pin and slowly roll it out - if the edges are dry and crack, smooth them out with your fingers and continue rolling slowly. If any of the dough sticks to your rolling pin, just reverse the roll to remove it and join it back to the main mass. 

Roll them about as thin as 1mm - don't worry, they do rise a little in the oven. Use a small cookie cutter to cut out your shapes. Carefully lift each biscuit and place on your baking trays - leave a slight gap between each as they do expand slightly. You will fit about twenty per baking tray. Gather up the remaining dough and join with the rest of the mass. Break off another portion and repeat the process until all your dough is used up.

Place one tray on the upper rack and while it's baking, roll out and fill up your next tray. After 15 minutes or so, transfer the partially baked top tray to the lower rack and rotate 180 degrees. Place your second tray of biscuits on the upper rack. When your first tray is done, remove from the oven and transfer each biscuit to a cooling rack. Bring the top tray down to the bottom shelf, and continue this rotation until you've cooked all your biscuits. The biscuits are done when they are hard to touch and just darkening around the edges - around 15-20 minutes.

Tip The dough can be refrigerated for up to two days or frozen for up to one month if you want to get ahead. Let the dough stand at room temperature for 30 minutes before shaping. Let frozen dough thaw overnight before proceeding with the recipe. 

Settle down on a comfy arm chair in the evening with half a dozen thins, a glass of cold milk and a good read. I'm sold. 

Afiyet olsun.

Pimentón

It’s creeping up behind me. Its horrible, leering presence waiting to pounce.  Biding its time before it makes its move, waiting for a show of weakness before an attack.  No, it’s not a platinum blonde 80’s BBC presenter, but the beginnings of a cold.

And I’m not having it.  It’s a busy time of year, with a hectic social calendar.  I also have lots of things I need to do. Lists to draw up. Gifts to buy. Menus to plan. Curtains to make. Meetings to attend. I do not have the time to pander to the needs of a cold.

And so at the first hint of the fuzzy head, the lack of concentration, that tiny patch of burning in the back of the throat just waiting to multiply and spread, I retaliate.  My weapons of choice – three key ingredients that when combined, create a life giving nectar.  Every glug of broth warming the very marrow in your bones.  This is the thing to consume at the first signs of a cold.  Along with some zinc and Vitamin C supplements.  And I’ll put good money on it working.  Let me know.


Garlic Soup (from La Mancha)

This is a slightly different take on the Garlic Soup with Eggs recipe taken from the excellent Rick Stein’s Spain.

And here’s how he introduces this dish:

“If I were to describe this soup as hot stock with fried garlic, grilled bread and a poached egg, it would sound rather dull, but the fact that it is made all over Spain and is at the very heart of the cooking of Castilla-La Mancha tells you there’s something magical about this combination.”

Agreed.

Makes several portions, but can be drunk by one person over the course of the day / evening.

Ingredients
As much garlic as your family, friends and co-workers will let you get away with.  Try at least a whole head, each clove very thinly sliced.
A kettle full of boiled water
3 chicken stock cubes (I particularly like Knorr)
Olive oil
Pimenton picante (smoked hot Spanish paprika) 
Good quality thickly sliced white bread

Gently fry the garlic in a very decent glug of olive oil in a saucepan until lightly golden, but no darker.

Crumble the stock cubes into the pan and stir until they’ve melted.

Add a freshly boiled kettle of water and bring to a simmer.

Add the pimenton to taste – start with 1tsp and keep going if you fancy it.  I have quite a bit in mine.

Turn off the heat and crack an egg into the pan.  You can do this into a ladle full of the liquid – this way the egg doesn’t touch the pan base and the yolk stays runny.

Grill a slice of bread.  Tear and place at the bottom of a bowl.

Once the egg is cooked, ladle it and some liquid over the bread, until your bowl is full.

Devour and bask in its healing qualities.  Consume the remaining broth during the rest of the evening, slurping appreciatively straight from the bowl or from a mug.

The key ingredient is the pimenton and you can find it in good supermarkets, often in the specialist section rather than in the general spice rack aisle.  Delicatessens are also likely to stock it.  You can see the two brands I use in the images, bought from Waitrose and Selfridges.  
As Rick says, this doesn’t sound like much.  And I’ll be the first to admit the photograph of it is nothing special.  But you simply will not understand the greatness of this simple soup until you try it.  Possibly the easiest thing you’ll ever make, and one of the tastiest.

Don’t ever let your cupboards run out of this exquisite spice.

Alfiyet olsun.