I LOVE the little things about Asha’s. From the penumbral basement Bolli Bar, where an odd cassia bark garnish for their raisiny house Negroni inexorably spears your nostril, to the remarkable array of relishes in the restaurant proper that raises poppadums (pictured) to a whole new level (the green apple chutney deserves World Heritage Status).
The eclectic soundtrack is also a constant tease, splicing ambient and Eighties with a smattering of the 12,000 songs recorded by octogenarian Asha, the Bollywood singing legend who gives this international brand its name and soul.
But best of all is the myriad attentions to culinary detail (even the fragrant basmati rice comes perfectly steamed) that lift this ‘posh’ Indian into the must-visit bracket, even if the designer cocktails, occasionally lavish ingredients (lobsters, truffles) and £2m refit aren’t quite your cup of Darjeeling.
The menu is mainly grounded in Asha’s native Maharashtra, the hinterland of Mumbai, while accommodating “classic dishes” this global chain’s clients expect. Perhaps they wouldn’t anticipate the vindaloo being made with duck (£14.95), but the gaminess goes well with the Goan vinegar and spice treatment. Similarly lobster seems made to be spiced panch poran – the classic Bengali blend of cumin, fenugreek, fennel, mustard, and black onion seed.
Seafood is well sourced. We shared a £17.50 platter of giant prawns straight from the tandoor, so garlicky, so all chillis blazing they almost merited a radiation warning; behind it it all a musky undertow of curry leaves. My fingers reeked of it for hours after.
Spicing elsewhere is less assertive. A main of Muscat Gosht (£14.95), a family favourite of Asha herself, offered chunks of boneless lamb in a soothingly spicy gravy we mopped up with butter naan. In truth, it was only the second best Indian lamb dish I’ve had this wintertime, Winner of the ‘Gosht of the Month’ competition is Mowgli Street Food’s version simmered with marrow bone, anise, plums, chickpeas, green chilli and coriander.
Asha’s is not peddling any notion of street food. That would be absurd, given the deluxe trappings (not that it flaunts them like Sakana or Tattu). The prices reflect this. Not terrifyingly. And there is a feeling of value and comfort with superb, discreet service. marshalled assiduously on the day we were there by bar manager Jose Ribeiro, yet another escapee from Brass at Hotel Gotham.
The bar is another major plus. Besides the impressive cocktail offering, there is a wine list a cut above most Indian restaurants. I’d recommend a benchmark Aussie Riesling , from Tim Adams in the Clare Valley, Foxlee (£30 a bottle, £5 by the glass), limey with unexpected body and just enough acidity to take on the spices.
Back to that attention to detail. Proof that samosas needn’t be flabby parcels of stodge – Asha’s venison version (£7.25) with green peas and an almost mince pie mix of raisins and spices was encased in the crispest of casings.
We paired it with palak paneer (£5.95), cubes of fresh Indian cheese swaddled (I only use this verb around Christmas) in a green blanket that was pure chlorophyll on a plate. The whole vegetarian provision is enticing – another surprise.
A mint raita (£3.75) came studded with jewels of pomegranate. Presentation, extending to expensively rustic crockery, is top notch.
Any dud? Well, off the ‘Something Different” section, the Guinea Fowl Hariyali Tikka (£14.95) came as chunks smeared in a thick coriander and mint crust that coarsened the lovely meat, but in the middle of the plate sat redemption of sorts – an intense, gorgeous pineapple relish.
Relish, a lovely word as noun or verb. Almost rhymes with cherish. Asha’s, a kind of culinary comfort zone in a city busting a gut to live up to its frontier of cool image, is one to cherish.
Asha’s, 47 Peter Street, Manchester, M2 3NG. 0161 832 5309.
