BE L GRAVI A RE S I DE NT S J OURNA L 022

Henry Hopwood-Phillips plunges through a portal

linking England to India La Portes des Indes for a
cookery lesson with Mr Mody, a chef from Bombay who
is admired in both kingdoms
L
a Porte des Indes may
look a little modest on
the outside the sort
of Indian a professional might
pop into on a lunch break or
order a takeaway from when
its a late one in the ofce. But
step inside and, as in Matthew
27:51, the veil is torn.
Instead of the polite but
unassuming aesthetic that
your typical Indian sits in, La
Porte des Indes, a ballroom in
another life, has kitted out its
Edwardian frame of replaces
and cornices in Mughal splendour. Its not a kitsch affair
either. Pinkish banisters turn out to be genuine sandstone
from Jaipur, not dyed concrete from Barnsley; the huge
antiques (the wooden horse is a highlight) and portraits
from Babur to Aurangzeb hanging on the walls are also
originals, shed out of India by the restaurants owner,
a man whose previous life as an antiquarian is now
reaping dividends.
Diners congregate around the restaurants natural
centre of gravity, a 40-ft waterfall that sits beneath a glass
dome surrounded by palms. But before Im allowed to
recline and gobble the fruits of anothers labour, the head
chef, Mehernosh Mody, a man with quite a few gongs
to his name (winner of the British Curry Awards among
others) whisks us to his kitchen. On entering, the highlight
is denitely his tandoor, a large, charcoal-powered clay pot
that has naan dough thrown on its sides at a rate of knots
and picked off in quick succession at peak times.
Upstairs, we help make chicken samosas as
Mehernosh shares tips about how Kashmiri chillies are
the best, how most curries are combinations of yoghurt
and spices, and how marinating for too long can result
in the reduction of your food to nothing, before insulting
his audience by informing us that the tikka masala is not
British at all it just means a cut of meat with spices!
As he cooks up water chestnut masala, wines cruise
by. It is always hard to decide which wines accompany
Indian food well. Is it the one that packs a punch, or is
it the one that soaks and castrates the avours, coaxing
them into something fresh and oral? I wasnt fond of
the Australian Riesling (2009), its strategy was clearly the
former; the overpowering lime had clumsy shoes on the
Indian dance oor. The Vermentino di Sardegna (2013) was
a different story, however; an incredibly clean combination
of thyme and greengage, it complemented every mouthful.
We retire to tables for our nal courses and I marvel at
the uniforms of the waiters gliding about some resembling
Aladdin, others more like corsairs with moustaches that
would make a cavalry ofcer jealous. The cherry on the
Indian milk-based dessert, however, has to be the rosemary
and olive gin and tonic, two ingredients which shall
henceforth live in every G&T I pour.
32 Bryanston Street, W1H 7EG
020 7224 0055 (laportedesindes.com)
Feeling
Mughal
BELGRAVIA
DINING
S
pecial