Tuesday 26th July 2016.
Now look here, these could well be the finest Indian restaurant toilets in Sheffield. Worthy of national consideration – if they do a national prize for restaurant toilets. I’m not saying they beat The British Oak out in Mosborough of course. Those are very special. Nevertheless, Jaflong’s are up there: Clean, bright, swanky. Maybe a little bit too sleek and ‘Miami Lap Dance Club’ for my taste. (Don Johnson under the toilet seat, if you know what I mean.) But perfect for the chinos and bandana set.
Tuesday night and it’s pretty dead. Jase likened the place to a used car showroom with its plain, unhindered space and glazed facade – can just picture a fleet of Ford Capris. The tables are crammed in with canteen-style formality, smothered in white table linen. Could perhaps do with some definition here and there: booth seating, a pot plant winding up some trellis work, that kind of thing.
You guessed it – Limeless in Gaza. Instead, the standard sub, a red chilli jamish concoction. On the whole, generous renditions of familiar pickle tray ditties. Onion bhajis – better than average: crispily coated, juicy and onionful – packing a punch. Tried the aloo chop for a change – we both enjoyed those too: mashed potato melts with an eggy, aromatic finish.
Sadly, the main dishes suffered a class divide of Victorian proportions. Jase’s naga lamb a tip-top, richly spiced success story – a Little Lord Fauntleroy. My duck baruchi more like a Grub Street whodunnit. Curiously, twice the size of the naga lamb dish; duck fat clinging in chewy slabs to each meaty morsel. The signature crispy onions tired and bedraggled. In fact, completely lacking the comforting properties of a classic baruchi. Draught Cobra fortified eye witnesses at the crime scene.
We finished on a Calypso coffee, a bit on the bland side. A tepid wipe from the packet. At £60 all in, fairly pricy. Still, as Humphrey Bogart used to say, “We’ll always have the lavies”.
Judge ‘Gonzo’ Pickles