From the name, one assumes that the new-ish Curry Leaf Easthas a North, West or South counterpart. Perhaps this one is related, but I was not able to find any indication that that is so. Poking around on the interweb I see that is it for sale though apparently, and oxymoronically, "developing into a well-established business".
The interior (with which I was familiar in its previous guise as a nice, if over-trendy bar called "Liquid Lab") is a nice space; narrow and slightly cave-like, with a second floor at the back which isn't visible from the street. The bar is an attractive curved wooden thing with a good selection of the usual whiskies. I am seated at my table for one half-way back, with a weird wooden whalebone thing separating me from the dumb (and live) waiters. The walls are all scuffed at the height of the tops of the chairs. Why oh why oh why don't they paint the damned place on a Sunday when they're closed? The only reason I can think of is that there is nobody with a proper proprietorial relationship with the place to object to this creeping delapidation.
The place feels slightly sterile, which again I put down to too-bright lighting and lack of music. The latter is a matter of taste but eating alone in a restaurant which is three-quarters empty and nearly silent can be a bit soul-sapping.
The menu is contemporary with a lot of unfamiliar options, but not as short as many trendy curry houses. This is actually quite confusing to my booze-addled brain. It's also pretty pricey - starters are all about 4 quid, mains vary from 7-11 quid, pulao rice nearly 3 quid, vegetable sides average about 4.50. It had better be good.
There don't seem to be any poppadom options, nor is anyone else obviously eating them so I grab a waiter (of which there is no shortage) and order.
Once the order has been taken, I am offered poppadoms. This would be annoying were I not hungry enough for pops and a starter. Fortunately I am. They come with a watery minty yoghurt (obviously made from Colman's mint sauce), a runny mango chutney with a few chilli flakes and a little pot of chopped red onion, red and green peppers and, praise The Lord, no cucumber! There is no lime or chilli pickle, though later on I hear an adjacent table request and receive some. My sweet lassi arrives soon thereafter and is good - yoghurty and dry while still sweet and not too thick.
My starter, Chicken Chatpatta - "Juicy fillet of chicken with an unusual blend of hot, sweet and sour flavour. Served with mint sauce." - takes about 25 mintes to arrive and while OK isn't really worth the wait. A big round plate arrives with a small pile of shredded garnish, and a slightly larger pile of little bits of chicken in a dry sauce with some bits of green and red pepper. The sauce is hot and sour and very slightly sweet and interestingly with a slight smoky flavour. The chicken is indeed juicy. The a small pot of mint sauce is bland and not even minty. Indeed, until rereading the menu now I had thought it was a disappointing coriander chutney. In summary, it's a small, poncy chicken pathia. The next course had better be good.
For my main course, I choose Laal Maans (no, I hadn't seen it spelled with an "n" elsewhere either) which is "A traditional Rajasthani speciality of diced baby lamb cooked with dried red chillies and crushed garlic" and which I have rather enjoyed elsewhere. The rice options are plain, jeera pulao, mushroom pulao and special fried rice (onion and tomato flavoured mildly spiced pulao with egg and peas"). I don't like cumin that much but I go for the jeera pulao anyway. I allow myself to be taking into a veggie dish I don't really need, choosing chana masala (extra hot, please). It had better be good.
It arrives and the portions are OK but far from generous. I don't mind as I have ordered too much anyway. It had better be good though.
The rice smells powerfully of cumin though fortunately the taste isn't too strong. A third is buttery yellow, another third is all stuck together. It is overcooked but passable. The curries had better be good.
The laal maans is a little less dark than one might find elsewhere, garnished with a big kashmiri chilli and either semolina or chopped sesame seeds. The sauce has a deep, hot flavour. The lamb is lean, but slightly overcooked. The chana is pretty ordinary but again has a slighty smokey flavour. (Are they using smoked paprika?) Neither of the dishes has that oily sheen - they seem to be careful about adding fat here.
Bill for the above and a second sweet lassi plus added service came to a touch over 28 quid.
It's not a bad place and they've put a fair amount of effort into the menu (or pinching it from elsewhere) but the cooking isn't good enough, the place too scruffy and the service just a bit too slack to justify prices about a 50% over a bog standard curry house.
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