Beranjak
Beranjak. The name on every food pocaster, interviewee, and influencers lips.
On a wet February evening, I arrived 10 minutes before my 5.30pm booking which is also the same time it opens for evening service. Doors still firmly locked, I took shelter among a few other under the red awning and heaters. Perched on a high wooden bar stool, a crowd began to form as the minutes grew closer to half past. While the crowds grew and tried to stay dry, through the window you could see the staff preparing breads and portioning out dips into bowls for online orders.
The small door open and a lady stood firmly with her ipad of power. The message was clear, those with reservations to be admitted first then anyone hoping to snag a spare table were to form an orderly queue. I, being the type A being I am, had my booking and was shown to my seat at the bar overlooking the kitchen. The restaurant space is compact to say the least. At full capacity, which was reached with about 15 minutes of the doors opening it’s definitely snug. The wait staff and even kitchen staff operate in an incredibly tight space with the aisle realistically being suitable for one way traffic only, the coffee/drinks area also serves and service pick up and assembly of online orders. It’s buzzy and cosy and the energy of the guests huddled in the darkness around their menus and chatting with their party, along with the elegant ballet of the cooks working away in the galley kitchen that was 10 feet long give or take, and flooded in light, created an atmosphere that you wanted to sink into like a grand old sofa.
The one benefit of Beranjak being on the radar of those interested in food is that it attracts a variety of people. Tonight was the perfect example; on my right a middle aged man making notes on a book he was reading, and thoroughly enjoying his carafe of red wine, and on my left a staffer from the freshly minted Ambassadors Clubhouse, a punjabi restaurant in Mayfair.
After being seated I was given a menu. A small confession; I almost always check the menu of a restaurant. I’m prepared like that! I had already earmarked some of the dishes I wanted to try then asked the waitress for her opinion. I was hungry but also couldn’t eat loads. I didn’t want to overorder.
I settled on the following:
Hummus - black chickpeas, sunflower seed ‘tahini’, walnuta and somagh
Kashk e Bademjoon - coal cooked abergine, why, walnuts, dried mint and onions
House Rice - Saffron rice, salted butter, crispy rice
Barreh Kabab Tond - Lamb rump chunks marinated in chilli, tarragon and yoghurt
Be aware that the kebab/lamb is served with a grilled tomato, a piece of Sangak (a flatbread), and a sweet chilli.
Interestingly, once the order was put through the head chef asked me if I was “sure I didn’t want any bread with the dips?!”. Slightly shocked that I had gone sans-bread. I assured him I would be just fine.
I hate to say it - well I don’t but you know - I was right. All the above was incredibly filling and I only managed to eat about two thirds of it.
Disclaimer, I’ve not had the pleasure of eating authentic persian food and I will take it from the experts on the subject that this isn’t authentic persian food and therefore my assessment has this firmly in mind. On it’s own, it’s good and tasty food. However, it’s no better than any other decent kebab I’ve had or turkish meal I’ve had. Another negative is that it’s incredibly overpriced for what it is however and the designed to be shared - the single tax once again makes a strong appearance here.
Before visiting I had heard no end of the praises for the dips. “You must go for the dips”, “they’re incredible”, in my opinion the hummus had an odd flavour despite the many rave reviews, and the aubergine was actually the best of the two. The saffron rice was average at best and more of the crispy rice would have been welcome. The lamb was excellent and my favourite of the lot. Tender, smoky from being cooked over the coals that sit in the large mouth of the huge grill that is the focal point of the kitchen.
Despite being officially stuffed, I was enticed into pudding.
I recently learnt about our “dessert tummy”. Our ability to fit in pudding or a sweet after even the heaviest of meals because our prehistoric brains want to stuff in as many calories as possible with little effort. A little extra fattening in case we didn’t catch another gazelle for a week, that sort of this. Sadly, it was disappointing; the tea ice cream and bakalava sundae did not live up to the expectations set from the words on the page. The tea ice cream was too strong for me and the chill of the cream had frozen the chunks of bakalava giving them a hard toffee-like chew, and the joy of the crisp lightness that sets filo pastry apart and above all others was entirely lost.
Food 3/5
Price 2/5
Atmosphere 4/5
Despite rumours that they may be gunning for a Michelin star in the next year, I won’t be returning. Another one and done experience. Enjoyable and lovely yet if it wasn’t for it’s name, forgettable.
