KHANS, WYLIES ROAD

A pleasantly appointed restaurant in a modern building, with a small bar and waiting area just beyond the entrance. I was greeted by a young lady (white, local) and, while enquiring about a table, I couldn’t help but note the lack of ‘Indian-ness’ - no spicy smells, no ‘Indian’ faces, with all the serving staff seeming to be young, white girls (although subsequently a man of Indian appearance did appear behind the bar occasionally). Perhaps through some sort of telepathy she suddenly said (for no reason, as I hadn’t raised the subject), “The chef’s not Bangladeshi like other restaurants. He’s Asian,” endowing the word ‘Asian’ with some sort of reverence, as though differentiating between a burger-flipper and a 5 star Michelin chef! “Oh, where from?” I asked. “Why, Asia,” she replied, in tones, and accompanying look, as though I was a total imbecile. Restraining the urge to ask her where on earth she thought Bangladesh was, I gently probed whether he was from China, Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand etc., and I eventually elicited that the chef was from Pakistan.

The dining area is an interesting circular room, of contemporary design and decor (pale wooden flooring, white colouring overall etc.), with most tables in the central body of the restaurant, and others on a slightly raised platform along the edges. It seats over 100, with a room (rarely used) for an additional 30 or so upstairs. However, despite the awed announcement that the chef was from Asia (Pakistan), and therefore somehow above ordinary Bangladeshi chefs, the menu contained all the standard dishes found in any high street (Bangladeshi run) Indian restaurant. The only dish listed that was different was a ‘Garlic Chilly Rooflifter’, - which doesn’t sound very Pakistani to me!!

We started with Onion Bhajias and Aloo Tikki, both a which had a small salad garnish, but no raita. The Aloo Tikki comprised two potato patties, which were excellent, being robustly spiced and of good flavour. The Onion Bhajias were not so good, being again two flat patties (they could have come from the same mould) but quite solidly compacted, which meant the inside was dense and stodgy. They were pleasantly tasty, but too heavy, and the lack of riata didn’t help (it is worth noting that riata is priced separately on the menu - £1.20 I think - and I asked the waitress whether riata is normally served with bhajias or charged separately. She told me that it would be charged separately if requested. Beware, therefore, that if you casually ask for riata with onion bhajias assuming the omission to be an oversight, then you will find £1.20 added to your bill – which makes it an expensive starter!).

For main courses we had a Karahi Chicken and a Chicken Jalfrazi, and I have to say that both were extremely poor. Both were served similarly in the metal Karahi, and both had ample chunks of chicken. But the limited amount of sauce (although to be fair Chicken Karahi is a dryish dish) was bland in the extreme. Both dishes were described as being cooked with garlic and ginger, yet a taste of the sauce on its own yielded no discernible garlic or ginger flavour, nor much spice. The Jalfrezi had no chillis or oomph whatsoever, just a few small pieces of green capsicum, and both dishes tasted simply of cooked chicken. It was clear that chunks of pre-cooked chicken had been put in a pan with some pre-prepared sauce, heated up, stirred around and served up. (In case you’re wondering, my test was simple - take a piece of chicken in mouth, suck off sauce coating – in this case not much flavour - to reveal a chicken piece of pure white with no indications or markings of being fried or cooked in spices. Cut off piece of white chicken - confirming no evidence of cooking permeating the outside – and taste. Result - pure, unadulterated, boring taste of old chicken.) I could have done it myself with a commercial curry sauce from a jar – in fact, this would probably have had more flavour! Indeed, it was so bland that my wife – who does not go for hot curries – had a spoon of the Jalfrazi sauce minus the chicken and felt not the slightest tingle on her tongue!

The accompanying Sabzi Bhaji was a little better, but still extremely bland and a bit ‘mushy’, while the Pillau Rice was the standard stuff. The only bright thing was the Peshwari Nan, which was excellent – light, fresh, fruity and extremely good.

The portions were good, and there was plenty of chicken in both main dishes. However, we didn’t finish any of the dishes, not because there was too much, but because all we could taste was chicken, which made it very uninteresting.

Prices were the highest of the three restaurants in Beverley, and above average, particularly for this area of the country where I found food and drink generally – particularly in pubs – to be very reasonably priced. (plus, of course, possible additions such as riata, as commented upon above).

The service was efficient, almost frenetic, as food was served quickly, and on one occasion I watched three waitresses work in unison to clear a table before the departing diners had reached the door. However, the food was served with such disturbing rapidity that it supports my view that pre-cooked chicken was plonked in some sauce and quickly heated. Also, all the waiting staff were white, young teenage girls who, while efficient at serving food and clearing tables, did nothing to project an ‘Indian’ restaurant, and I suspect (certainly if the one who said the chef was ‘Asian’ is any guide), would be quite at a loss should any diner unused to Indian food seek advice.

All in all I thought it was a below average meal as far as taste and flavour went, and would not return for that reason (unless I only wanted Aloo Tikki and Peshwari Nan, of course!!). However, that is not the only reason I wouldn’t return, as there is a rider to the evening. When our waitress cleared the table she asked the usual ‘was everything all right?’ As it wasn’t, and I couldn’t bring myself to murmur ‘yes’ as seems to be the traditional English response, I said that to be honest we hadn’t enjoyed it very much. She asked why, so I explained that I had found it bland etc. etc. She apologised politely and took the dirties away. So far so good. However, then the young lady who had told me the chef was ‘Asian’ appeared (I assume because she was ‘head girl’, although I doubt if she was 20 – she certainly didn’t act it) and asked what was wrong with the meal. I emphasised that I hadn’t specifically made a complaint, but had merely answered honestly when asked if it was OK, but since she asked I explained that we had found it bland, seemed to be just plain chicken in a sauce, the taste didn’t correspond with menu description etc.. She then proceeded to become defensively aggressive, again telling me that the chef was ‘Asian’, that they haven’t had any complaints before, and generally implying that I knew nothing about Indian (or ‘Asian’) food. To be fair to her, she did ask if I wanted anything deducted from the bill, which I refused as I again stressed that I hadn’t complained or asked her to come to speak with me, although it was good of her to do so. With that she sulkily departed, and showed her immaturity by giving us a sullen glare as we left, while totally ignoring my 'goodnight'. For that lack of customer courtesy alone I would never go back (and if they can’t accept polite constructive criticism, then why bother to ask?)

As my wife had commented, there had been no smells on entering the restaurant, no smells from the kitchen (the door of which we waited beside for our coats to be produced), and no smells wafting from the food itself. There was no after taste, no tingle on the tongue and, as far as satisfaction goes, ‘we could have eaten anything’. I think that says it all.

Malcolm Wilkins – January 2005