Review: Diwana

121 Drummond Street, London, NW1 2HL

The occasion was the London branch of my family’s opportunity to celebrate my 40^th, so it was unlikely the place I wanted to go would earn itself anything other than a good review. I’ve been eating here since I was three years old, and I have to say, each time I have a meal at Diwana it conforms precisely to my accumulated memories of what the food there should be like. Thirty-seven years of total consistency is a pretty splendid achievement in my book.

Diwana is a bhel poori house, of which there are a small number in the vicinity of south Camden’s North Gower Street: what this means is that it serves southern Indian cuisine, entirely vegetarian, and that it specialises in a brand of snack food, involving small fried breads, sev (chickpea noodles) and various interesting, aromatic seasonings. The other mainstay of the menu is the dosas, various weird and wonderful riffs on the theme of pancake. I didn’t have any of that.

When I lived in London during the early 90s I explored that side of the menu, but on this visit I returned to my old mainstay, since I very rarely eat there nowadays: I had the thali ‘Annapurna’. This is a stainless steel tray, full of small stainless steel bowls, each containing a different vegetable curry (except the ones containing some fantastically seasoned yoghurt, some pokhara, some rice, and some creamy, sticky dessert). I had some chapatis with mine as well. It was all very yum.

This is not a very hotly spiced cuisine, which means you can really taste the subtleties of the very complex spice combinations they use in all their dishes, and it’s all quite unlike anything else I associate with the term ‘Indian food’. These interesting aromas extend everywhere, including the desserts.

Despite my thali including a dessert, I was compelled (for reasons of nostalgia) to follow it up with a portion of malai kulfi. Kulfi is Indian ice-cream: it is stirred and reduced, rather than being whipped like western ice-cream, which results in a very dense texture. In the past it was served in a tall cone shape: on this occasion the cone had been cut into four segments which lay flat on my plate. This may have something to do with the traditional shape’s tendency to go flying across the restaurant when you try to force a spoon through it. It was also very delicious, very delicately and engagingly seasoned.

They have no license, but you can bring your own alcohol, which in this case we did, although I’m usually happy with a couple of salt lassis (spiced yoghurt drinks) to wash my meal down.

I used to go running into this place for a plaster if I cut my finger while playing in the nearby streets. It’s not just the first Indian food I can remember having: it’s the first food I can remember having out, of any kind. Its flavours and colours and smells and atmosphere (and decor, it still has the same pine tongue-and-groove lined interior) are as much a part of me as anything else is, and so it is clearly completely impossible for me to give an objective assessment. I just love it, the way you love a family member. It’s my ultimate comfort food. I do maintain, however, that it is some damn’ fine cooking, and I have no reservations about recommending that you eat there.