Kanishka
17-19 Maddox St, London W1
Atul Kochhar sure knows his spice. Back in the days when I co-presented a show called Market Kitchen, he was one of those guest chefs who made the long days pass in a thickly scented cloud of cinnamon, cardamon, chilli and cumin, forever toasting and roasting and grinding and blending, cooking Indian dishes that managed to combine the staunchly traditional with a gently modern flourish. I still turn to him, along with the great Madhur Jaffrey, for wise, authoritative words on all matters edibly sub-continental.
You could also argue that he, along with Vineet Bhatia, is the godfather of London Modern Indian, which saw a move away from the flock-wallpapered charms of the British Indian curry house and set its sights on the Michelin constellation. In 2001, he was awarded a Michelin star at Tamarind, while Bhatia received his at Zaika. This was big news, the first Indian chefs to receive such an accolade. Now, you can hardly stroll through Mayfair without stumbling across some expensively kitted-out gaff with minuscule portions and strange-shaped plates. But Kochhar and Bhatia still delight.
The room at Kanishka is smart but not formal, with a black-and-white chequerboard floor, plenty of foliage and a cool, aquamarine hue
When Kochhar moved to Benares in Berkeley Square his cooking evolved, even if the room left me cold. But in his new place, Kanishka, things are rather less po-faced and rather more laid-back. The room is smart but not formal, with a black-and-white chequerboard floor, plenty of foliage and a cool, aquamarine hue. The menu focuses on the food of the North East, which is fascinating (so I was told on the website) for its meld and mish-mash of religion and culture. China, Nepal, Myanmar and Bangladesh, all neighbours, add their own ingredients and cooking techniques, so there are noodles alongside the naan, soy and sag aloo, dumplings and murg makhana.
I’m lunching with Nico Marshall Lee, a man who kindly (or perhaps foolishly) ‘bought me’ at an auction in aid of The Change Foundation, a fine charity that uses sport and dance to transform the lives of underprivileged children. So Greggs and Maccas were out, rather Kochhar and head chef Sameer Taneja. They don’t let us down. We eat Kolkata puchkas, also known as gol golpas, crisp, delicate bubbles of wheat, filled with soft potato, and a beetroot broth of startling purity, as clean as a Himalayan spring, with a robust chilli heat. Scallops, naga style, wear their capsaicin more gently, which accentuates rather than bludgeons that inherent sweetness.
It comes with ‘textures of cauliflower’ too, one of those ‘feen deening’ descriptions that makes the taste buds sag. There’s a purée (there always is), a fried version and a decent chutney too. But that’s as posh as it gets. Thank God.
No such modern affectations with a glorious venison keema ghotala, stella comfort food, lavishly spiced and piled thick and rich upon a buttery brioche bun. A squeeze of lime and pickled red onions cut through all that magnificent mince. Lamb momos are equally solid, with thickish, chewy pastry and a chilli spiked chutney with a healthy slug of vinegar. Sagolir manxo, or goat curry, is ambitiously priced at £26, but this is Mayfair and it’s a beauty, heavy on the black pepper, chilli and cumin. We mop up every last smear.
Seafood Alleppey Curry. The cooking is elegantly balanced, yet admirably robust too
The only really forgettable dish is a Sikkimese duck, which sees breast cooked pink and served with a sharp tomato sauce. It’s certainly not bad. But it feels a touch too cheffy, too mannered, especially when compared to what’s come before. The ‘signature’ black dal, on the other hand, is so creamily lovely that I’m half tempted to whisk it off to the hills, to ask for its hand in marriage.
So yes, prices are Mayfair high. Sometimes lofty enough to cause the nose to bleed. What it does offer, though, is a taste of something a little different, from a region of India not much explored over here. Yet. The cooking is elegantly balanced, yet admirably robust too. And of course, this being Kochhar, he’s never afraid of cranking up that spice.
About £50 per head