Things I Needoo

Needoo Grill, 87 New Road, London E1 1HH

Midweek commitments on behalf of m’employer found me with a free evening in Whitechapel. After pints (unremarkable - I was out late) I had an urgent need to feed as I had eaten nothing since lunchtime. So often in this part of London that would involve a visit to the venerable Lahore Kebab House, but the stroll there would take me along New Road, home of Needoo Grill and Shalamar Kebab House, and past Fieldgate Street where one can find the cathedral of curry that is Tayyabs. So I decided first of all that I should visit ome of those instead, and second of all that the one I would visit should be the red palace of Needoo Grill.

Wandering in the door, I was taken up a narrow flight of stairs past one empty dining room and into a further empty dining room, where it was apparent that I was to be seated. This is a maze of a restaurant, and down another flight of stairs I can see into yet another dining room, occupied by a party to which I am not invited. The walls are red, the chairs are red and even parts of the floor are red, and the bits of wall that are not red are covered in mirrors. I am left alone in this curious dining room/boudoir with the menu.

Ah, the agony of choice when dining somewhere new. You have no favourites to fall back on, the menu full of unknown promise. Should I have karahi gosht, or methi lamb, or even the unappetisingly named but exquisite dry meat. While I was craving a lamb curry I felt I also probably needed to take in some vegetables. I also noted that I was extremely hungry. When the waiter reappeared I communicated my desires: karahi aloo gosht, tarka daal, garlic naan and a salty lassi for hydration.

I sat alone in the red room, the noise from the separate party continuing to float up the stairs. This was a bit dull, no music, no people to watch and no conversations to eavesdrop. I consoled myself by reading stuff on my phone, my stomach rumbling away as the only background noise. After an appropriate wait, it arrived.

Here was an impressive plate of food. There was oil (as there ought to be in karahi), there was a decent amount of meat, there was an impressively dark masala, and there was a sprinling of foliage on the top. I began to tuck in. The spice and the seasoning of the masala was just to my taste, the lamb pleasingly tender and giving of spice. Potato was also in abundance, having absorbed much of the flavour around it. This tasted authentic, and ever so slightly old-fashioned. I loved it.

The daal had similarly visible oil and a slightly earthy taste, with lentils aplenty and a colour at variance from what is usually found.

The naan and the lassi did just what they needed to do.

The bill for all this came to £35.36. I waddled away a very happy boy indeed.