Naans vast and crisp, the size of a pillow

Taste Of Pakistan

369 Hanworth Rd, Hounslow

Rating:

Taste Of Pakistan is not the sort of place you’d stumble upon. Unless, that is, you lived halfway down the Han-worth Road, deep in London’s Hounslow. But even then, you might well wander past the faded, unassuming storefront, wedged between a derelict betting shop and shuttered south Asian bazaar.

Were you to venture inside, you’d find a large, clean, strictly utilitarian room with a fridge for soft drinks (no alcohol here), splashes of vivid green paint and a mighty open grill at the back, with industrial extractor fans so powerful they could rip the words right out of your mouth. A few tables are already taken – families, groups of local office workers, the odd lone male. We’re placed by the window, gazing out over a glumly suburban west London afternoon, and handed laminated menus, admirably terse, by the broad-shouldered, charmingly loquacious man who saunters over to our table. He has the easy confidence of a manager or owner. Perhaps the brilliantly outspoken one who takes to TripAdvisor critics and gives them both glorious barrels.

‘You need some recommendations?’ he asks. Yes. Yes, we do. Because my knowledge of Pakistani food is sparse, at best. I know I love Tayabs, and tangy kaharis, and khatti dahl, and lots of lamb and luscious fat. I also know that Indian chef and restaurateur Asma Khan sings the praises of the place. Especially their chapli kebab, charsi karahi and Kabuli pilau rice. Which is why we’re here. And according to the online chit chat, many London Pakistanis agree it’s a proper taste of the Pakistani north-west, and Afghanistan, and those ever-permeable culinary borders.

God, I love this place. For its vast crisp naans, the size of a large pillow, crisp rather than billowing, hung from a hook and hot from the tandoor. And a Kabuli pilau, a classic north-west and Afghani dish, as fragrant as a Mughal’s mistress, with cloves and cardamom and plump raisins and shredded carrots and tenderly fatty lumps of mutton, lovingly lurking beneath all those plump grains of basmati rice. And chapli kebab, great frazzled patties of shredded beef the size of dinner plates, mixed with fried onions and slivers of tomato and great fistfuls of garlic, coriander seeds and cumin, the spices both whole and crushed. A swaggering, oily and intensely spiced brawler of a dish, and one I’d never tasted before. Light it ain’t, but this is true fighting fodder.

Far more subtle, but every bit as fine, is a lamb karahi malai, served sizzling in a battered karahi pan, with both chunks of mutton and marrow-filled rounds of bone. It’s gentle, creamy and complex, with Mughal whispers, a soft chilli glow, the whiff of charcoal char and discreetly peppery jolt. Oily, but not overwhelmingly so, it’s one of those dishes that open and intensify with every mouthful. For the north-western Pakistani neophyte, it’s a revelation.

Just like another classic, the charsi karahi, the chicken cooked on the bone, scented with smoke and fresh green chillies and lots of tomatoes for a stirringly acidic kick. Again, the delicacy of the dish is astonishing, layer upon layer of spice which unfurl in the mouth like a gently blossoming lotus. We scrape every last smear of sauce from the iron dish with rough-torn shards of naan. And retire, gently moaning, praying the fresh green cardamom tea will give the belly some respite. We don’t hold out much hope.

But this Monday lunch just reminds me why I love London so much. New things to learn, fresh dishes, cultures, thrills and delights. The fact that one can travel just a couple of miles west. And disappear into another world altogether. Of jagged mountains, soaring valleys and raging rivers. Immigration not only makes this city great. But creates one hell of a place to eat too. By the time we waddle out, lips smeared with ovine glee, the room is packed. We’re not the first to fall for Taste Of Pakistan. And we most certainly won’t be the last.

About £10-15 per head