Restaurant Review: Veeraswamy

100 Not Out For This Indian Institution. Or 100 Out?

Sir David Attenborough isn’t the only British landmark from 1926 still going strong. Indian restaurant Veeraswamy has notched up its centenary this year too. Founded by former Anglo-Indian army officer Edward Palmer and bringing a taste of the Raj to Regent Street, it’s the oldest Indian restaurant in the UK and was awarded a Michelin star in 2016.

But unlike Sir David its days may be numbered. According to reports, its landlord, the Crown Estate, has not renewed the lease and the current lease expires in June. 20,000 supporters including chefs including Raymond Blanc, Michel Roux and Richard Corrigan, signed a petition which was taken to Buckingham Palace in February, hoping that King Charles would step in.

So I’d been thinking I’d better take a look just in case it goes. And by good fortune a friend happened to suggest a large gathering of old school chums and work colleagues and mentioned Veeraswamy. I knew it wouldn’t be cheap but my friend is a high flying surgeon and most of his friends are either big cheeses in medicine or finance, so all in all it was a chance to see how the other half lives.

And Veeraswamy certainly does things differently. The set-up is a million light years from your flock-walled post-pub local. I was greeted by a bowler-hatted red-clad doorman, who pointed me towards a lift and on the first floor I was then greeted by another helpful flunky. Dress code is ‘smart elegant’ but I just about got away with my jeans and, like seemingly every other middle-aged man there, my Hugh-Grant-on-a-budget blue shirt and dark jacket clearly cut the mustard.

The menu is, however, is, in places, standard Indian, with plenty of tikka masalas and curries. My friend next to me opted for the Anglo-Indian Mulligatawny Soup (£14.50) followed by the Lamb Byriani 1926 (£39). I followed his lead with the soup, but wanted some tandoori chicken which I thought would be a healthier main option. To my surprise this was not on the menu, but I was directed to the Country Captain (£30), a dish of grilled chicken and sauce dating back to 1926. Though sadly, not at 1926 prices.

The soup was delicious, poured into the bowl over a plump mound of white rice by our assiduous waiter. If the bowl in the picture looks messy that’s not his fault, that’s a reflection of my eagerness to sup the soup. It was not too hot and had a strong hit of lemon. I’m a big fan of citrus and it really enhanced the dish.

I had read that the food here is not the hottest dishes this side of Mumbai so I was actually taken aback by the heat of the sauce on my Country Captain. While it contained cashews and other nuts i thought it would be sweet, but it was on the powerful side for me. Though this is clearly personal taste. I’m sure others would appreciate that burning sensation you get at the back of your throat after a hot curry.

There was a raita somewhere on the table, which might have been a cooling balm, but somehow it didn’t seem to reach me. On the other hand there was a nearby basket of soft, chewy garlic naans and some poppadoms and chutneys.

Rather than fill myself up on the sides – always a temptation with Indian food, or any food come to that – I decided to break with my own personal traditions and indulge in a dessert. Black Carrot Halwa - Orange Rabri (£11) certainly sounded different. Was this the same kind of halwa I’d had in middle eastern restaurants, made of wheat semolina, nuts? It didn’t have the same crumbly Weetabixy texture, in fact it looked and even tasted more like a porous, spongy dome of chocolate cake. I don’t know what kind of trickery this was but I liked it, even if the gold leaf on the top was a little too decadent for me.

After pudding I really couldn’t eat another thing. which was fortunate really because I probably couldn’t afford another thing. When the bill was divided up it came to around £115 each. I not sure what they were eating at the other end of the table but something seemed to bump up the bill. However, this was a special occasion and very much felt like one. I wasn’t going to be the one to start saying that I only had a little rice and one small lager.

It’s probably the most I’ve paid for a meal while I’ve been writing this column, but I thought the price was fair. Veeraswamy might feel a bit like a tourist trap but it’s a beautiful one and a piece of London eating history.

I’m sure there were a fair share of overseas visitors in, sent by cabbies and hotel receptionists, as well as well-heeled Londoners and out-of-towners having a one-off blow-out. But it wasn’t stuffy, there was a much more relaxed vibe than I’d expected as I’d been hunting in the back of my wardrobe for a suitably smart elegant shirt before setting off. Here’s hoping for another 100 years.

Veeraswamy, 99 Regent Street, W1