Dishoom up the Glory of old Bombay

“The old Irani cafés of Bombay have almost all disappeared. Their faded elegance welcomed all: rich businessmen, sweaty taxi-wallas and courting couples. Fans turned slowly. Bentwood chairs were reflected in stained mirrors, next to sepia family portraits. Students had breakfast. Families dined. Lawyers read briefs. Writers found their characters.”

The 1920s were a masterpiece of time. Long gone is that era — one that can never truly be revived. But push open the doors of a magnificent three-storey Victorian warehouse, just a stone’s throw from King’s Cross station, and you step into a Bombay café right here in the heart of London.

The list of the UK’s 100 Best Restaurants, voted by Yelp reviewers, crowned Dishoom as number one, with contenders trailing behind including the two Michelin-starred Dinner by Heston Blumenthal and the grand European café The Wolseley, which sits right next to The Ritz London in Piccadilly.

On that beautiful bank holiday Monday, Q, H and I woke to a soft spring morning and slipped into a languid brunch beneath whirring fans, seated by the kebab grill, at the top of the Victorian warehouse — once a railway transit shed dating back to the 19th century.

As we caught up on life, the bartender downstairs measured out gin to whip up a chilli martini, while an elderly woman dressed in a saree hunched slightly, squinting at a wall of faded photographs. It felt like a marriage of culture and food — an assimilation of histories, a coming together across generations — the realised vision of cousins Shamil Thakrar and Kavi Thakrar.

Symmetrical tiles cover the entire floor, while the mezzanine hosts booths for couples and families. Venture down to the basement and you’ll find the Permit Room — a colonial India-inspired bar that references the 1949 Bombay Prohibition Act, which once restricted the sale of alcohol to those with medical permits. Gimlets, sours and flips sit alongside classics with a twist — chai-jitos, bollybellinis — all served in a dimly lit space steeped in nostalgia, where the echoes of British colonial influence still linger.

Breakfast is served from 8am to 11.30am on weekdays, and until noon on weekends. The menu includes high-protein options inspired by Parsi bodybuilders, whose portraits are said to still hang on the walls of the Yazdani Café. There are also fluffy, hot naan rolls and the Big Bombay — a generous plate laden with “abundant akuri, char-striped smoked streaky bacon from The Ginger Pig, peppery Shropshire pork sausages, masala baked beans, grilled field mushrooms, grilled tomatoes and buttered pau buns.” All for just £11.50.

The lunch menu is a delightful mishmash of small and sharing plates — salads, curries, biryanis, daals and grills — accompanied by an array of lassis, coolers, sodas, beers, ciders, wines and cocktails. The server knew the flavours like the back of his hand, recommending dishes with such fervour you’d think he had just swallowed fire or downed a bottle of rum heavily infused with spices. And the result? Our table soon resembled a quilt of steaming, colourful Indian dishes.

Phew — where do we even begin? For drinks, we had a chilli martini and a chaijito. Then we rather got carried away with the ordering. In the photo above (^), starting from the left and moving clockwise: gunpowder potatoes (smoky, grilled and tossed in butter), paneer tikka, keema pau (spiced minced lamb with toasted pau buns), okra fries, bhel (a cold, crunchy mix of puffed rice tossed with pomegranate, spices and greens), cheese naan, and black daal (Dishoom’s signature, slow-cooked for 24 hours).

Nothing on the table was bland or uninspired. Our taste buds were bombarded with chilli and mint, then turmeric and cinnamon — and on and on — a full catalogue of flavours. Even the simplest element, water, was served in stainless steel cups, once prevalent in — and now symbolic of — Indian society. The okra fries tasted somewhat like courgette fries, but lighter and more refreshing. The keema pau was a winner, and my favourite had to be the cheese naan dipped into the black daal — a deeply satisfying combination.

And the final consequence?

Me, smiling at my very content, slightly bulging belly.

With love x