No Room For Dishoom

The designer in me noticed the white industrial spiky sign on a baracaded building site reading Dishoom (which humorously translates to ‘mojo’). This was the first clue that a new eatery was in the making. I followed its progress as it’s opposite my work and I was one of the first diners in when they announced a 50% off soft launch.

Set off the street, the approach is padded with sweeping plants. Step into the restaurant and it looked like another patched up warehouse - I wasn’t convinced that the peeling wallpaper and exposed pipes weren’t deliberately put in.

The menu was full of familiar Indian ingredients but cooked in experimental ways. Indecisive, I asked the waiter. He said a certain chicken dish because ‘It’s really nice, it’s marinated in like cheese, like a cheddar and, like Philadelphia’. I like cheese but I only want to find a paneer in my Indian food.

We apprehensively ordered the okra chips - lightly fried and sprinkled with a too sour spice. I ate the bhel. It was pleasant but I’ve had much better in Drummond street and the lamb tandoori was peppered with a very keen waiter who eagerly asked how our meal was 5 times. First answer, we haven’t had a chance to taste much, second answer very nice but could we have more tap water. Third, yep, if we tell you it’s good will you leave us alone? Fourth: Are you having a laugh? On the fith time I started to wonder if he had put a foreign substance in it and abandoned my limp, lifeless Indian chicken salad.

I would stay at home because:

For seven quid I left feeling too full of food I didn’t like. The service was like a pestering little brother but that is what you expect in a soft launch and why it’s discounted.

I would go back because

It’s cheap for the next four days and you might do better than me with your choices!