Dishoom Birmingham
PHOENIX FROM THE FLAMES
March was a cruel month on so many levels, but from a totally selfish point of view, it got no worse than having the grand opening of Birmingham’s Dishoom snatched away from me, just one day before my birthday meal. I’ve been pining for this moment ever since.
In the meantime my love for Dishoom has grown exponentially; it could just be a case of ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ but it’s more likely the many weekends of lockdown spent conjuring culinary magic from the Dishoom cookbook—with every dish an absolute winner. So, as we head into town, my appetite couldn’t be more whetted, my stomach more yearning, my tastebuds more aroused, my brain more excited, my desires so enticed and my expectations more elevated.
Now’s not the place for me to mourn the pulling down of the classically brutalist former library to simply replace it with the sort of corporate architectural blandness that’s been thrown up in its place, so I’ll not bang on about that here. Anyway, that’s where Dishoom is; with a large outdoor terrace overlooking the newly polished Chamberlain Square.
On walking in, we’re straight into the large bar area that flames the illusion we’ve walked into 1930s Bombay feeling like its sole purpose is to enliven your soul. I’d expect it would usually provide a very welcoming bustle and I can picture myself amongst a eclectic crowd, with East India Gimlet in hand. Of course, it’s no surprise it’s empty and I’m grateful just being here under any circumstances.
Bar area
We announce ourselves to reception and are instantly swept away by a masked waitress and shown to a table, left with menus and hand gel and off she goes with our drinks order—a mango and fennel lassi, large sparkling water, a glass of rosé and 500ml carafe of Primitivo for me… never one to miss an opportunity.
It’s one of those menus I’d happily order everything, especially with 50% off food for the soft launch period and with it being my ‘birthday’—but lockdown has not been kind to my waistline. We do at least decide to go with the tapas approach, which should mean getting at least to try everything we order.
Bhel
First up from the small plates to ease us in is a bowl of Bhel – a pumped up Bombay mix that’s wonderfully wet, sweet and fresh; yet dry, savoury and crunchy at the same time.
Prawn koliwada
And then the prawn koliwada, wonderfully juicy under a lightly spiced and delicate crispy batter, with a lime and coriander chutney for dipping.
Chilli chicken
Just two dishes in and with my mouth already fully wowed, the chilli chicken raises the bar even higher with crunchy crispiness alongside garlic, ginger and soy that’s faithful to its Indo-Chinese roots.
Dishoom chicken tikka
The food is now coming in waves and the Dishoom chicken tikka is not only challenging for top dish today but top chicken tikka ever, with the smoky charred light crunch contrasting with sweet succulence.
Gunpowder potatoes
Gunpowder potatoes, skin-on and broken apart, tossed with butter, crushed aromatic seeds and green herbs—which despite having become a favourite at home lays bare all the deficiencies of trying to recreate these in the domestic kitchen. It’s all about the smokiness off the grill and those wonderful burnt edges, like chestnuts off the open fire.
Mutton champ korma and khamiri roti
The chef’s Birmingham special comes in the shape of mutton chaap korma – slow cooked, marinated chops, with a rich gravy vibrating with onion and cashews that’s perfect for the sweet, deep flavour of lean mutton that’s hanging off its bones. This comes with a khamiri roti—a pillowy soft, leavened flatbread that’s perfect for mopping up.
Bowl of greens
You’d be forgiven for thinking that was enough for the three of us but there’s also a bowl of grilled greens with chilli and lime dressing—another favourite in our house—as is the Dishoom slaw, dressed with mint and honey, providing freshness and crunch.
Chilli butter-bhutta
And then wow… the chilli butter-bhutta. I can only imagine bhutta means the best corn on the cob ever—grilled over charcoal and seemingly pumped full of butter, chilli and lime so each of those little sweetcorn pods simply burst with flavour. And I confess to being halfway through the second of these before realising they aren’t just for me. Although, I don’t recall having any of the raita so I guess that means we’re even… and it’s not like we even manage to finish everything, so I’m already looking forward to a marvellous Monday lunch that we scoop into a doggy bag.
We’re unanimous that we’re going in for dessert but need a break. Katrina flags a waiter for a third glass of wine—which is then seemingly forgotten—but upon a reminder it swiftly arrives with an apology and the news that it’s on the house.
My view… ‘main dining’ area
It’s just starting to tip into evening, but still about half full—albeit with social distancing in place—and cool Indian vibes amongst a mostly funky soundtrack and energy from the open kitchen that runs down one side of the ‘main room’. It’s a big dining space, but given there’s so much attention to detail in places to create the feel of an old Bombay Irani café, certainly where we’re sat, it can’t avoid feeling like a chain restaurant. With the seating, tables and chairs, it feels like I could be sat in an airport Wetherspoons, but it’s a great people watching spot; much like an airport Wetherspoons. Although credit where credit’s due, there’s an army of staff; all super efficient and friendly.
We’re offered a free ‘house chai’ to try once we’re ready to order dessert… a cunning move on their part as they now have three hooked customers and will have us scrambling for the Dishoom book for the recipe when we get home.
Malai kulfi & chai
Having watched a family of four each devour a kulfi on a stick I can’t see past those and pick the malai kulfi… ‘the original with a hint of caramel’. The one ‘disappointment’ is the Memsahib’s Mess—although that’s a bit harsh as it has all the aroma of a rose garden amongst the cream and meringue but there’s just the one strawberry.
Memsahib’s mess
Not that I’ve got any complaints about my Velvette Fogg— with chai ice cream melting seductively into coffee liqueur and vodka. It’s somewhere between a tiramisù and an Irish coffee, via Bombay.
Velvette Fogg
With textures and flavours in abundance, this is first class food of the highest order, as is the service. It definitely feels like it’s my birthday meal and an absolute bargain at £109.73 including tip (with 50% off the food bill)… even at the full price of £150 I’d have been delighted. We’re already planning brunch here in a couple of weeks.
I’m also completely won round on the ugly old library being torn down… this phoenix is most welcome in my city.
HIGHLY RECOMMENDED
One Chamberlain Square, Birmingham B3 3AX
