Amy Field “Ask and you shall receive”: this famous line from the Book of Matthew rings true tonight for The Wembley Tandoori, a medium sized Indian-Nepalese restaurant which, upon asking for a review following a visit from my sister and me, now finds itself in receipt of one.
It was a cold, albeit fairly dry, Monday evening when my sister and I, having met at my new home within the Wembley area, decided that a traditional “sisterly curry night” was in order. Having already sampled and reviewed the fare in our hometown of Rugby, we felt it only natural to branch out and expand our remit into London’s culinary world.
Following a frostbitten walk, during which canned cocktails may or may not have been consumed, we were beckoned towards The Wembley Tandoori by brightly illuminated signage and a wholly unique entrance, one that evoked the mountainous terrain of Nepal. This proved to be a recurring motif throughout the restaurant’s décor. In this respect, The Wembley Tandoori is something of a mountain retreat, quietly nestled within the congested streets of Wembley.
After taking in our surroundings, my sister and I soon found ourselves perusing a slightly tattered, yet extensive, menu. I was particularly impressed by the wide array of vegetarian offerings, which far eclipsed those found in Rugby establishments.
Service was fast but friendly. Our server, clad in a Wembley Tandoori branded fleece, was attentive, and after a brief browsing session we ordered two Cobra beers, alongside a poppadom starter to share.
I will briefly note that considering our London location, we were impressed by the reasonable prices found at this establishment. In particular, we noted that The Wembley Tandoori seems to be one of the few venues in London where a pint can be purchased for under ÂŁ5.
Our poppadoms arrived with haste and possessed a delicate crisp. My sister, ever the audiophile, noted that the music choice, Radioactive by Imagine Dragons, complemented what was a pleasant, if rather green, yoghurt accompaniment, served alongside mango chutney and a small salad.
Seeing as we did not contract radiation poisoning, we decided to move on to the main event, ordering a decadent spread consisting of paneer tikka masala, tandoori chicken, pilau rice and, ever our personal favourite, naan bread. This arrived, quite charmingly, via a wheeled cart in a nod to the silver service of old.
Both my sororal companion and I were pleased with our decisions that night. My paneer tikka masala was mercifully free from the overwhelming taste of tinned tomatoes that so often plagues the dish. Instead, it was characterised by a creamy richness, made all the more indulgent by the paneer itself. Having only recently been won over to the concept of cheese in a curry, I now consider myself thoroughly convinced.
My sister was similarly impressed by her tandoori chicken, which arrived with dramatic flair upon a sizzling hot plate and was accompanied by crisp vegetables. Robyn reserved particular praise for the chicken’s moist texture and subtle heat, clearly the product of extensive marination.
Naan bread and pilau rice never fail to delight, and we particularly enjoyed the freshness conveyed by both dishes. There is little that impresses me more than a chef unafraid to properly season their pilau rice. This was one that contained a generous amount of cardamom pods and was balanced by a careful mix of spices.
Our one gripe, since leaving our provincial home of Rugby, is that the time honoured tradition of the lemon scented moist towelette has thus far failed to make its way to London. We found ourselves yearning for that ubiquitous artificial lemon scent which so often followed our prior culinary adventures. Perhaps next time, we shall have to remember to bring them ourselves, alongside a small microwave.
However, lemon scented moist towelettes aside, we enjoyed our visit to Wembley Tandoori, which has attained the dubious honour of being the recipient of our first London based review. Ask and you shall receive? Receive you shall!
