With riots on the streets and revolting people everywhere it would have been foolish, perhaps even dangerous, to venture too far for supper on Wednesday night. Benares was therefore chosen both for its convenient location right next to the office, and its convenient donation of a membership card to my friend, which meant we could get free champagne and a 15% discount. Win.
We started the evening with an inoffensive bottle of white and some light conversation outside a local pub. My friend is currently a Dukan-er and was looking fabulous. By 7pm, we were ready to leave the mean streets and move across Berkeley Square to Atul Kochhar’s (‘the nice Indian man from Great British Menu’) restaurant. Having been approved by the silent man-mountain at the door (which personally I find offputting enough in nightclubs, let alone when I just want a curry), we passed into the inner sanctum and were greeted effusively by a lot of people before ascending some fairly serious stairs (super tight skirts would be/were tricky) and arriving in the bar. Lulled into a false sense of security by the 15% discount, a margarita and a lemon thyme martini were ordered. A yoghurt based drink was not, despite assurances that it was delicious. I hate yoghurt, and on Dukan you have to eat a lot of it anyway. The cocktails we did order were delicious and got an A* from both of us, as did the lovely water feature pond thing. Very pretty.
The dining room itself is square, low ceilinged and windowless. This doesn’t bother me, but it did have *whisper* a slight hint of the corporate hotel about it. It is fashionably brown and beige with white linen…I’m sure you can already picture it almost exactly (if not, look at the picture below). The lighting is seductively dim and very flattering. This would be a great, discreet place for a dangerous liaison, if anyone is that way inclined.
A glass of champagne helped us make our way through the menu. I have to say, the first thing I noticed was the price. It’s…expensive. But hey, this is London Normal for Mayfair . The real question is, was it worth it?
Yes, it was. Unequivocally some of the best food I’ve eaten all year, Indian or otherwise. As we sat down, we were given tiny melt in the mouth poppadums with pineapple, tomato and green apple chutneys. Delicious. See you later, Dukan.
To start, I had spice crusted scallops and my friend had a soft shell crab. The menu required something more subtle to drink than a Cobra, so we went for a Viognier, chosen with help from the sommelier. Very dry. Excellent.
When the food arrived, I was told to eat the scallops from left to right, as their flavours intensified across the plate. I don’t like this. I always want to point out that I’ve managed to convey food to my mouth in an order that hasn’t killed me or harmed anyone around me for 25 years now. But that would make me a bit of an arse, so I nodded politely and did what he said. Guess what? He was right. The first scallop was mild and, I thought initially, underseasoned. I was prepared to be slightly, but politely, disappointed. But the next one had a punch of coriander seed that very cleverly picked up the first scallop too. The last one had a chilli and garlic sauce on top that was really strong. Amazingly, I could still taste all three scallops, individually, through the spices and the mango dressing. My friend’s soft shell crab with peanut salad also went down with rave reviews.
Main courses were the aforementioned £30 Tandoori Murgh for my friend, and a sea trout with Kerala curry sauce and ‘tempered yoghurt rice’ for me. This was a showstopper. The fish was perfectly cooked (and didn’t have the desperate ‘I’m trying to be salmon’ attitude that sometimes affects sea trout), the sauce was just....beyond words. Ok, that’s a cop out. It was red and lightly spiced and didn’t overpower the fish. The stroke of absolute genius was the cold rice stirred through with a little yoghurt (bear in mind I hate yoghurt). It added a sharp, lactic quality to the fatty fish and the thick sauce and rounded it all out perfectly.
The Tandoori murgh was a supreme of chicken with various spiced veg and a tomato and fenugreek sauce. The chicken had a good heat to it and was very smoky. Another winner.
Neither of us are really pudding people, so we skipped it and went to espressos. At this point, a charming Frenchman appeared to ask us how our evening had gone and was treated to a rambling 10 minute conversation with two stunningly attractive (remember the lighting), happily full, slightly tipsy young women about the disenfranchisement of youth in the suburbs of Paris and London, and its contribution to aggression. I believe the word ‘ghetto’ was used. To his eternal credit, he appeared to enjoy it.
It was… expensive. £152 for two. But here’s the thing, we paid without hesitation and would both go back tomorrow. If we could put it on a credit card.
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| Study in beige |
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