I Don't Often Speak In Superlatives...

We had a number of recommendations for this place. Complete strangers who found out in an airport that our guests were coming to London would recommend it, to the tune of "If you only have one night in London, this is the place to go." Tayyabs. Foodie friends of ours had heard of it and were dying to try it out. Tayyabs. Any time we talked to anyone about London and food, the name came up. Tayyabs, Tayyabs. I missed my opportunity last spring because we didn't have a reservation and I was worried about finding my way home across the river late that night. Tayyabs, Tayyabs, Tayyabs. Our friends stuck it out that night, and had nothing but good things to say. By the time we finally made it last night, we'd heard so much hype about this place we were worried the experience would collapse under the weight of all this dogged enthusiasm. TAYYABS!

We had walked from Leadenhall, where we'd gathered the group, indulging in a few pints while we waited for everyone. By now, this route was fairly familiar to me. We had, on other occasions, attacked Brick Lane from the south, and we had been through this area on our first, half-aborted trip to Tayyabs, so I was treading familiar cobbles. When we turned down Fieldgate Street, I was reminded how much this area resembled a pared-down Brooklyn. Brick structures, exposed fire escapes, and narrow lanes gave the place a decidedly New York charm. Breaking with the Big Apple theme, Women in colorful saris roamed the street in packs or with their dates, who were invariably garbed in more contemporary western attire - leather jackets and slacks, or suits if they were coming from work. The street was lively, especially for a Tuesday evening. The first time I came here, the crowd was spilling out of the restaurant and onto the street. This night, however, there were only a few smokers standing outside.

We arrived with about a minute to go before our reservation. The restaurant was significantly less packed than it had been half a year ago. We were able to get in the door and to the host's stand without having to shove and jostle, and only had a few minutes to wait before we were seated. There were about 20 people in the queue who hadn't reserved ahead of time, but it looked like they were cycling through fairly quickly. It was early, though, and only Tuesday. This is clearly the type of place you should plan ahead for. Speaking of which, we forgot to stop on the way to pick up drinks. The place doesn't have an alcohol license, but they don't mind if you bring your own. Looking around, most of our fellow diners had thought ahead and brought beer or wine. As it was, we were probably better off sticking with tap water, since we were better able to focus on the food.

The food! There were four of us, and we had eaten together before, so we took a family-style approach. We ordered the chiken tikka starter, garlic and peshwari naan, karahi gosht, karahi bhindi, saag aloo, bhindi meat, tinda masala, chicken keema, and rice. We also ordered 4 of the seekh kebabs to start with. They never showed up - that's the one complaint I had with this place. Other than that, the service was top-notch, and the food was excellent. The dishes, by and large, were drier than you'd find at many places in the States, which is not to say they were dry, just that they weren't swimming in sauce. The sauces tended to be more oily than soupy, although they were quite thick and flavorful. I assume the extra oil is owed to the prominence of ghee in Punjabi cooking, although that's barely an educated guess - I'm certainly no expert on cuisine from this part of the world. Whatever the source of the oil, I wouldn't describe the food as greasy in the way fish and chips can be - the oil was light, and enhanced the flavor of the food rather than overpowering it. The standout dishes were the chicken keema and the tinda masala. The chicken keema was a minced and spiced dish that would go well as a filling in stuffed peppers. I could even see mixing it with some paneer and stuffing it in a chicken breast for a recursive sort of take on Chicken Cordon Bleu. Throw it in the Tandoor and serve with aloo gobi. Boom. As it was, it was perfect as it was with either the naan or the rice. The tinda masala was a mix of baby pumkin, herbs, and spices. It was slightly sweeter than I expected, which was a delight. None of the dishes disappointed, but those two really stood out.

This was by far the best food of its kind we've had in London. I've been doing some reading on Punjabi cuisine (which is how Tayyabs advertises what they do), and have found that much of what the west considers Indian food is actually Punjabi. Also, the Punjab region straddles the border between India and Pakistan, much like the Kurdish regions of the Arabian Peninsula straddle multiple countries. Someone can be ethnically Punjabi and you'd have no way to know whether they're from India or Pakistan. This is a long-winded way to point out it's an oversimplification to say that this is Indian food, but for purposes of lumping Tayyabs' particular style into a taxonomy, that's where I'm sticking it.

One last thing to mention - all of that food was under £60. The four of us had the best Indian food we've ever had, sampled 7 dishes, were completely sated by the end of the meal, and all for under £60. That's a pretty serious bargain at twice the price. I only wish I'd been willing to brave the crowds earlier, because we would have been back here once a month for most of this year. If you only have one night to spend in London, this is the place to go.