By Neil Sowerby
I AM gazing out on a floodlit Gateway of India from the roof terrace of the Taj Hotel, at a reception for Bollywood starlets. I am equally dazzled by the buffet, which is almost as tasty as the street food I’d wolfed earlier up at the Juhu and Chowpatty beaches. Mumbai is a city it’s hard to come to terms with. The incredible contrasts of wealth and poverty, the seething immensity of it all, leave you gobsmacked.
It’s a world away from downtown Cheadle under a downpour that is chillier than any monsoon. Yet 10 years on here I am on one of my less exotic food hack assignments venturing into a restaurant that pays homage to the great Indian city of movies and mayhem.
At Aamchi Mumbai the only starlets present are on the walls but some reassuringly authentic aromas are wafting from the kitchens. I’m tempted to order a £6.90 Inky Pinky Ponky cocktail but decide Bourbon, Vodka, Malibu, Cream and Grenadine, however Bollywoodesque, might distract my palate from the array of puris and pickles set up as appetisers. So I stick to a bottle of Kingfisher (I’m never sure wine and curry do more than spar with each other).
Manager Sandeep Gursahani, once of the Taj, has assembled a team of chefs who have all worked in 5 star Mumbai kitchens and has created a colourful backdrop for their culinary creations. It looks like a substantial investment from Sandeep and business partners textile magnate Suresh Ruia and US-based Sumeet Kamat, all of whom in their words: “missed the taste of home”.
Will it succeed? On the evidence of the procession of dishes Sandeep introduced me to, definitely. There is competition around the corner from the highly-regarded Tiffin Room, another new restaurant that offers dishes at a far remove from standard Punjabi and Bangladeshi fare in our curry houses. There’s room for both and Cheadle is the winner.
First impressions, though, were of Aaamchi over-egging the Mumbai pudding. Not literally – our classic quartet of desserts, Halwa, Rasmalai, Gulab Jamun and Kulfi were lovely but not yolk-driven!
What jarred was the name-checking of the city in the laminated eight-page “Mumba Mail” newsletter that serves as both menu and an introduction to icons such as Sachin Tendulkar, the Chor Bazar ‘Thief Market’, Bollywood inevitably and the Dabbawala. The latter are the city’s tiffin box deliverers, who by bicycle and other energy-efficient means provide 200,000 cooked lunches to workers each day. All this colourful pedalling and peddling certainly puts popping into Pret a manger to shame.
All this obvious branding smacks of setting a template for a future chain – a regional equivalent of London’s Dishoom Bombay Cafes, say. And yet it is hard to pin down what constitutes Mumbai cuisine. Since it’s a city folk flock to from across the sub-continent to follow their dreams, it’s a food melting pot. The signature Mumbai dish? Certainly not Bombay Duck – that old Raj culinary conundrum, which is actually a salted Bengalese lizardfish.
Aamchi Mumbai don’t feature it. Who does these days? Their ‘street food’ section is full of Pav, a kind of local burger, fried Pakodas and several variants on Putris, those delicate, hollow pastries with spicy fillings, Chaat salads and, of course Masala Dosa with Sambar, the South Indian breakfast pancake that has spread from the South to conquer Mumbai as well as the rest of India. As I said, the food’s all about cross-fertilisation. Prices for these snacks, all immaculately spiced and fresh tasting, hover around the £3.50-£3.95 mark.
Next it’s best to tackle a few morsels from the Tandoor oven. Chicken Malai Tikka was a mite bland; the green-marinated Fish Haryali Tikka packed a kick. Best of all was an old favourite I wouldn’t particularly associate with Mumbai, Paneer Tikka, Indian cottage cheese grilled to a glorious spicy crustiness. It figured on a Vegetable Sizzler Plate and I made little sandwiches with Aamchi’s splendid signature bread, Chili and Onion Kulcha (£3.25). For non-veggie Sizzler seekers, the Lamb Saagwalla main (£10.50) was intensely sludgily spinachy, which I like.
There is an India Meets China section, which celebrates the fact that when contemporary Indians eat out they often go for a Chinese. I couldn’t really discern the Indo-Chinese sauces (maybe a touch of soy) in the Chicken Chilly (£5.50). Like the restaurant as a whole, it perhaps suffers from an identity crisis. Perhaps it is trying to have too much identity. Location, Location. Mumbai, Mumbai.
Still I think the citizens of that amazing city would recognise Aamchi as one of their own – from the staff in their flamboyant orange uniforms to the properly fresh spicing in the food preparation. Think of the restaurant less as a streetfood theme park and more as a Gastronomic Gateway To India.
Aaamchi Mumbai, Reardon House, 2A Gatley Road, Cheadle SK8 1PY. 0161 428 3848, http://www.aamchimumbai.co.uk
