Pure, not prissy: Indian at its best

Pure, not prissy: Indian at its best

Opheem

65 Summer Row, Birmingham

Rating:

Birmingham’s finest Balti, Al Frash, closed a few months back. No one’s entirely sure why, but we’re all united in our grief. No more crisp-bottomed, buttery and blistered tablecloth-sized naan. Or sizzling shami kebabs, fecund with fat, or great battered bowls of lustily spiced jalfrezi Balti lamb. Sure, there are other places, some of them pretty good. But with the passing of Al Frash, the spark seemed to have left Sparkbrook.

The dining room at Orpheem in Birmingham. It's a Michelin-starred Indian restaurant run by chef proprietor Aktar Islam

The dining room at Orpheem in Birmingham. It’s a Michelin-starred Indian restaurant run by chef proprietor Aktar Islam

Or so I thought. Up in Brum the other day, I asked Lora Munro, owner of The Birmingham Balti Bowl Co (alongside her father Andy, author of that steel-bottomed classic, Going For A Balti), for urgent advice. She rated the Royal Watan (‘been around for a long time and has a strong following’) but deemed Shababs, pretty much opposite the old Al Frash, as her favourite. And after a ‘table’ naan, suitably blistered and buttery, and a brace of seekh kebabs, sweetly succulent, and a magnificent lamb and spinach Balti, vindaloo heat, fierce with chillies dried and fresh, I feel complete. Salaam Shababs. I’ve found love once again in the Ladypool Road.

But I digress. Just as I did by travelling to Shababs, after lunch at Opheem, a Michelin-starred Indian restaurant at the other end of the culinary scale. This was the real reason I was in Birmingham, to find out if chef proprietor Aktar Islam is as talented as they say he is. And despite this being one of those rare days when he’s not actually shaking the pans (he’d been in earlier, but had to go to London), the kitchen does just fine without him. He’s certainly trained them well. While Shababs is bring your own, Opheem has a thick wine list, albeit well priced and interesting. Shababs has just the one charming manager/waiter. Opheem has battalions of similarly charming staff. The music in Shababs is Bhangra-based, the muzak at Opheem that irksomely generic Ibiza chill-out. It’s £20 for lunch at Shababs, but can run to more than £100, with a bottle of wine, at Opheem. Despite the obvious differences, both are cracking places to eat.

At Opheem, a few obligatory freebies first, of which a chunk of compressed cucumber stands out. Cool, calm and infused with garam masala warmth. Lamb fat brioches are burnished and topped with cumin and deep-fried shallots, served with the most delicate of lamb fat butters. I expected ovine overload, but these are masterpieces of the baker’s art, gloriously light and lovingly spiced. Bengali mutton shami kebabs share the same soul of those at Al Frash, but are, as you’d expect, rather more refined, the meat finely minced, and fried as cakes. Again, the spicing is as delicate as it is assured, and raw tomatoes, along with a vibrantly zinging green chutney, offer a sharp foil to all that muttony bleat. While technique may be exalted, there’s no stinting on flavours. Tempura soft-shell crab is crisp and greaseless, the batter studded with caraway seed. It comes with a quenelle of clean, fresh, white crab meat. The spices flatter and cosset the crustacean, coaxing out its innate sweetness.

While technique may be exalted, there’s no stinting on flavours. Tempura soft-shell crab is crisp and greaseless, the batter studded with caraway seed

While technique may be exalted, there’s no stinting on flavours. Tempura soft-shell crab is crisp and greaseless, the batter studded with caraway seed

For main, a Punjabi Thangri masala, which tastes like a slightly more fiery version of butter chicken. The sauce is lusciously, lavishly rich, stained deep crimson with tomato and chilli powder, the tandoor-cooked chicken succulent beneath a charred crust. There’s depth and balance and a slow, languorous chilli burn. Joe’s Keralan fish meen has a lozenge of immaculately cooked fish, bathed in a coconut milk sauce, verdant with coriander. There’s fluffy basmati rice and excellent fresh breads, but also the desire for lots more of those sauces in which to dunk them. Still, this is modern Indian cooking at its best, pure but never prissy, with the most eloquent understanding of spice. And at £30 for two courses (plus half a bottle of wine), incredible value, too. So, two modern bites of the sub-continent, miles apart in price and presentation. But both united in their power to delight. 

£30 for two courses