Jashan, Wembley

I’ve had plenty of perfectly good Indian meals in Scotland, and I tend to think Edinburgh is quite well-served by Indian restaurants - it’s only when I come south to the great bastions of British India that I am reminded how westernised the cooking in Scottish Indian restaurants really is. But these bastions of BrIndia are not always easy to find, at least for the locally unlettered. In London, forget Brick Lane, discouragingly lined with waiters trying to inveigle the unwary into their establishment; real sub-continental dining has moved on from here, replaced by an ethnic hotch-potch of stalls and eateries serving marketgoers and oglers. Which isn’t to say there aren’t some tasty morsels to be had in the market, as well as a lot of feed-the-masses slurry; but when we are on Brick Lane, it’s almost always as a scenic prelude to a very British lunch at St. John Bread and Wine. Hold onto your wallet on Brick Lane; not everyone is in search of a culinary morsel and a market bargain. I have felt the fast fingers flutter against my mobile-phone pouch. 

Jashan, by contrast, a vegetarian Indian restaurant in Wembley, feels like the real Indian deal. Rather unprepossessing in appearance, it is gratifying to see it is packed with diners, almost all Indian – certainly a good sign, even if this is a very Indian area. An alternative establishment along the street, glass-fronted and upmarkety, was devoid of clientele; the waiters forlornly peeked out at passers-by, emphasizing their restaurant’s desolation and the fact that Jashan was a good choice. This is eating in the community. It isn’t quite as monocultural as we thought, though; there is an odd bit of Szechuan crossover on the menu, but we didn’t feel the need to go near that.

We had fun deconstructing the pickles. There was a mint dip with fenugreek and chilli, and a tomato dip with fennel seeds. Dal Bhajjia, deep-fried lentil pakoras, were not onion-based as I am used to. Then the really off-the-wall stuff came. Bel Puri is puffed rice with sev – my best guess is that sev is deep-fried gram flour, tiny, crunchy strands coming as a textural companion to the slightly softer, still crunchy rice and the even softer pieces of veg; it’s more like something I’d expect in a South American restaurant. I certainly wouldn’t expect find it in an Edinburgh Indian.

Chana Masala, spicy chickpeas, was actually the most conventional, least spicy thing we had; I could find them in Edinburgh. Dal Maharani, black lentils with a creamy sauce, also came with kidney beans and a stocky sauce that was more savoury than creamy. Bhindi Chatpati were deep-fried, shredded lady fingers that had been marinated in chilli, and were intensely spicy, while Aloo Bhindi was made up of lady fingers marinated in turmeric and tamarind.

There is only one thing you should drink at an Indian restaurant, a salted lassi. At Jashan, they come sprinkled with ground cumin, whereas I’ve had black pepper and even garam masala on them in other restaurants. The rice and breads are not simple; our Ajwaini Methi Paratha was a whole-wheat flatbread densely green with bishopweed and fenugreek seeds - very herby - while the two different pulao (I say pilau, you say pulao) rice sides were almost unrecognisable as rice; the Nilgiri Pulao was intensely green from the coriander and mint run through it, while the Methi Paneer Pulao was a dish in its own right with chunks of cottage cheese and shredded fenugreek. Normally, rice is a foil to spice, but we almost needed another side as a foil to the spicy Nilgiri.

Great stuff; this was real off-road Indian. One expects to eat very hot food at a place like Jashan, although I was never obliged to reach with indelicate haste for the lassi. (I did, however, steadily get through two or three.) The spicy taste that went home in my mouth was a powerful blend of turmeric, tamarind, mint and cumin, not chilli.

Jashan, 1-2 Ealing Road Coronet Parade