I AM very much in the way. This is instantly clear. The chefs at Dishoom Kensington – their whites pristine as they to and fro with huge trays of buns to be stuffed with keema and paneer – dance skilfully between charcoal grills and sturdy metal pots the size of car tyres.
But now they also have to contend with me, attuned only to the prawn moilee (a south-Indian-style curry) under my nose, and not the intricacies of a frenetic open kitchen.
I'm here with Dishoom executive chef Naved Nasir, one third of the team behind the restaurant chain and its debut cookbook, Dishoom: From Bombay With Love.
The other two thirds are co-founders Shamil Thakrar and Kavi Thakrar, who launched Dishoom in 2010.
They opened first in Covent Garden, and now have five restaurants in London (including their labyrinthine Granary Square space, where you can lose all sense of time as the cups of chai keep coming), as well as joints in Edinburgh and Manchester.
Inspiration initially sprung from Bombay's beloved Irani cafes, and "each Dishoom is a small love letter to these cafes in Bombay", as Nasir explains over bowls of crisp, rust-coloured okra fries and knubbly bites of chilli chicken.
The cafes are the legacy of Zoroastrian immigrants from Iran, who set up these cosmopolitan nooks in the early 20th century, which, as a by-product of savvy business acumen (communal tables designed to optimise space) made India's caste and class systems inconsequential – or at least suspended them for a meal and a drink or two.
"[You'd] share a table – the chair is yours," says Nasir. "These cafes broke down those barriers. That for me was the biggest contribution these cafes had, that you could have a Muslim sitting next to a Hindu or a Sikh, and a Christian next to them."
From 400 or so scattered across Bombay, they are now barely 30 of these opulent, nostalgically tattered Irani cafes left.
While Dishoom is a love letter, it's not an exact replica. And neither are the dishes you'll find on its menu or in the cookbook – these aren't traditional recipes done to the authentic letter.
Instead, Nasir's ethos is to ask: "If you tell someone in Bombay about a bacon sandwich, how would he go about it?" The answer is Dishoom's famed tomato-chilli jam and cream cheese-slicked bacon naan roll.
But perhaps their most lauded, signature dish is the house black daal. It's beside the prawn moilee we're making, majestic and statuesque in its colossal pot, quietly deepening in flavour.
"You can tell the feeling of the kitchen by the daal," says Nasir, ominously explaining that you mustn't scrape the crust at the bottom of the daal pan with the lip of the wide ladle that sits in it, or the smoky burnt flavours diffuse into the grains. Instead, you stir and scrape down the sides of the pan with the rounded base of it. It's a system you don't mess with, so no, I don't get a go.
Interestingly, daal may seem a simple exercise in comforting bowl food – it's got very few ingredients and is arguably quite plain – but it's far more intricate than you might imagine.
It can be so sensitive in fact; when Dishoom opened in Manchester, their head chef there couldn't get the house special quite right, no matter how hard she tried. Then they realised: "The water in Manchester is not as hard as the water in London, that had an impact on the urad daal grain as to how it cooks."
Against the jazz sax pumping through the speakers and the clatter of cups frothing with rose and cardamom lassi the colour of pink Angel Delight, Nasir recalls how, as a young chef in India, it took him six months to piece together his then restaurant's daal recipe. Although, he was somewhat hampered by his secretive superiors.
Sharing recipes is important though, he notes: "If you're too secretive, recipes will die."
And so he's quite happy to share the secrets to his perfect, fragrant prawn moilee – a dish that was a special at Dishoom Covent Garden. It turns out sunshine-yellow, the prawns plump and taut against our teeth, and the thick half-moons of white onion we chucked in have broken down and leaked their sweetness ("Browning up onions is a very critical stage," Nasir reminds me).
We eat it with steamed rice and wedges of lemon, and feel a little more like we're in Bombay than we did before.
:: Dishoom: From Bombay With Love by Shamil Thakrar, Kavi Thakrar and Naved Nasir, photography by Haarala Hamilton, is published by Bloomsbury, priced £26.
KEJRIWAL - FRIED EGGS ON CHILLI CHEESE TOAST
(Serves 1)
80g mature Cheddar, grated
1 or 2 thick slices of white bloomer, sourdough or brioche (depending on size and level of hunger)
2 spring onions, chopped
1 green chilli, very finely chopped
1tsp vegetable oil (optional)
1 or 2 large eggs (one per slice of toast)
Coarsely ground black pepper
To serve:
Tomato ketchup
Method:
Let the grated cheese come up to room temperature; it needs to be quite soft and workable.
Heat the oven to 240C/Fan 220C/Gas 9. Place a baking tray inside to warm up. Toast the bread until very lightly browned on both sides. Set aside to cool slightly while you prepare the topping.
Put a small handful of the grated cheese (roughly 10g), one teaspoon chopped spring onion and a pinch of green chilli to one side, to be used when you fry the egg(s).
Crack the egg(s) into a cup or small bowl, being careful to keep the yolk(s) intact.
Put the remaining cheese, spring onions and green chilli into a bowl, add plenty of black pepper and mix well. Using the back of a spoon (or your fingers), work the cheese mixture into a paste by pressing it firmly into the side of the bowl.
Spread the cheese mix evenly over the toast and press it in, using the back of the spoon, to create a firm, even layer that goes all the way to the edges of the toast. Place on the tray in the oven and cook for six to eight minutes, until deep golden and bubbling.
While the chilli cheese toast is cooking, warm a frying pan over a high heat and, if using, add the oil. Gently tip the egg(s) into the hot pan and add some black pepper. Top with the reserved grated cheese, spring onion and green chilli. Place the frying pan in the oven and cook for two minutes, or until the cheese is melted and the egg white(s) are cooked but the yolk(s) are still runny.
Carefully slide the egg(s) onto the cheese on toast and serve right away, with plenty of tomato ketchup.
PRAWN MOILEE
(Serves 4)
6 green chillies
55ml vegetable oil
2tsp mustard seeds
30 fresh curry leaves
300g Spanish white onions, sliced (a little chunky is good)
15g garlic paste (see below)
15g ginger paste (see below)
2tsp fine sea salt
1tsp freshly ground black pepper
1 & 1/4tsp ground turmeric
25g fresh root ginger, cut into matchsticks
400ml coconut milk
250ml coconut cream
24 large prawns
300g medium tomatoes, cut into small bite-sized wedges
For the garlic paste (makes about 170g):
3 garlic bulbs, peeled and blitzed with 25ml vegetable oil. Add 2-3tsp water to loosen if necessary. Place in a clean, sterilised jar and cover the surface with a thin layer of oil. Store in the fridge and use within 10 days.
For the ginger paste (makes about 170g):
180g fresh root ginger, peeled and blitzed with 25ml vegetable oil. Add 2-3tsp water to loosen if necessary. Place in a clean, sterilised jar and cover the surface with a thin layer of oil. Store in the fridge and use within 10 days.
To serve:
Lemon wedges
Method:
Remove and discard the stalks from the chillies, then slice each one into three or four long strips. Set to one side. Place a large saucepan over a medium heat. Add 40ml of the oil, let it warm for a few seconds, then add the mustard seeds and 20 curry leaves. Let them crackle for a few seconds.
Add the onions and saute lightly for 12-14 minutes, until soft but not coloured. Add the garlic and ginger pastes, salt, black pepper and turmeric and saute for three minutes, stirring regularly. Add the sliced chillies and ginger matchsticks and cook for three minutes.
Pour in the coconut milk and cream and simmer for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. While the curry is simmering, place a small frying pan over a medium-high heat and add the remaining one tablespoon oil. Toss in the rest of the curry leaves and fry for one minute, until crisp. Drain on kitchen paper and set aside.
Add the prawns and tomatoes to the sauce and simmer gently for a further five to six minutes, until the prawns are cooked; do not overcook or they will be tough.
Serve scattered with the fried curry leaves, with lemon wedges on the side.
