Brigadiers
1-5 Bloomberg Arcade,
London EC4N 8AR
There’s nothing martial about Brigadiers, the new Indian restaurant from the team behind Gymkhana, Sabor, Xu and Bao. Sure, it’s ‘inspired’ by the army mess bars of Empire. But forget pink gin and punkah wallahs – this place is modern to its core. The vast TV screens, to sate the sporting urge of a thousand roaring City boys; the mongoose and monkey lights; the Campari spritz bar, with negroni, nitro martini and Old Fashioned on tap; the rare whisky vending machine; the pool room, with its gleaming Texan table, self-serve beer taps and leopard-print carpet. Every detail is exquisitely and expensively wrought, an Indian Art Deco delight of polished marble, lacquered wood and unashamed opulence. Brigadiers is as bold as a Sikh warrior and as handsome as a Bollywood star.
Brigadiers. Every detail is exquisitely and expensively wrought, an Indian Art Deco delight of polished marble, lacquered wood and unashamed opulence
Then there’s the food. JKS, the owners, are in many ways pioneers. They take cuisines both familiar (Indian, Spanish) or less well known (Taiwanese, Sri Lankan) and artfully guide them into 21st Century London. As much care is taken with food as it is with design. They create restaurants that never cease to delight, that draw you back, time after time, places with true culinary integrity but a sly sense of fun. Brigadiers is no exception. What could have been a braying, overblown City booze hole turns out to be yet another jewel in the JKS crown.
I’ve been there twice now. Once, during the soft launch, where various Esquire hacks were sequestered (rather wisely) in a lavish and lovely private room. Where I think we devoured roast kid goat shoulder, piled into flaky paratha and various steaming biriyanis. In fact, I know we did, as I found pickle-stained notes in my pocket the day after. With scrawled, gushing exhortations as to the brilliance of the cooking. My hangover, on the other hand, was less than pretty.
I return a few weeks later for lunch. Where we pique the appetite with crisp shards of chicken skin, topped with a splodge of minced masala chicken, lime pickle and a blob of sour cream. It’s the quintessence of the Friday night curry made posh, where the spices are freshly ground and textures designed to delight. Golden samosas are filled with vinegar-spiked, cardamom scented ox cheek, a glorious take on the vindaloo. Pork scratchings come with a cod’s roe raita, a very modern surf and turf. Seafood Tellicherry Fry coats prawns, soft shell crab and squid in a thickish, lustily spiced batter. A sharp, punchy tomato chutney ensures things don’t get too down and dirty.
Fire is big here. Of course it is. London’s aflame. There are tandoors, charcoal grills, wood ovens and smokers. But like St Leonard and Brat, they know how to control that char. A chicken tikka skewer, succulent and robust, mixes thigh and plump hearts. Equally succulent, lavishly so, is a beautifully blackened double lamb chop, marinated in yogurt, and cooked pink. I gnaw every last scrap from the bone. A whole grilled turbot arrives under a blizzard of dry samphire curry. It’s undercooked, so some of the flesh is still bloody, and sticks stubbornly to the bone. Underseasoned too. A rare and uncharacteristic bum note.
Things get back to normal with a beef chuck bone marrow keema, richer than the Nizam of Hyderabad, as majestic as the late Maharani of Jaipur. A vast bone is plonked in its midst, filled with wobbling marrow. There’s an oozing egg and a delicate chilli sigh and it comes with burnished, buttery chilli cheese naan. Up there with Gymkhana’s goat keema (with added brains). I could eat this every night. For ever. Just like the Jenga blocks of fried potato, sliced, layered with butter, sat under a heavy weight then deep fried. An Indo-Franco union of the finest kind.
Chargha chicken. We eat so much that we’re pretty much rolled out of those doors
Like any good restaurant, Brigadiers leaves one craving for more. Well, not immediately. We eat so much that we’re pretty much rolled out of those doors. But there’s a tandoori chicken club sandwich I have my eye on. And a beef shin and bone marrow biryani. And crab seekh kebabs. Oh, and those masala goat chops. And… well, you get the gist.
Two visits are only enough to scratch that charred surface. We drink a really decent Riesling Eva Fricke that stands up proudly to the onslaught of spice. And contemplate a post-prandial game of pool. But after a lunch like this, it seems an exertion too far. We wobble off into the City afternoon, sated smiles smeared across our faces.
About £40 per head
What Tom ate this week
Friday
Deliveroo with kids. Decent-ish pork tacos from DF/Mexico
Saturday
Find a half-decent Chinese place in Chinatown: Beijing Dumplings. Excellent. Xiao long bao, plus sesame prawn toast.
Sunday
Neapolitan margherita at L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele near Baker Street.
Monday
Dinner of tortilla, chiperones, ancient and endive salad, scallops and prawns at Barrafina in Adelaide Street.