Marina O'Loughlin on restaurantsRestaurantsReviewIt’s not often I come out of a restaurant and immediately want to go back to eat the rest of the shortish menu. Possibly all by myself
You could be forgiven for suspecting Madame D to be a concept in search of a restaurant. Of being the output of some kind of ideas incubator team feverishly poring over a list of recent London successes – the one where they cook northern Thai food over fire, the one where they put duck in doughnuts, the one where the pizza is made with seawater, the one where all the food is ball-shaped – in search of something to tumesce the tastebuds of a jaded capital, something that hasn’t already been done.
You could. And, I confess, when I heard the phrase “Himalayan sharing plates”, I sure as hell did. I also heard the words “communal tables” and “above a pub”, and felt about as enthusiastic as I’d be about a night drinking bitter at the cricket club with Piers Morgan. But then I realised it comes from the same team as the rather wonderful Gunpowder. And now, having been there, all suspicion has fled. I’m too busy being excited about the food.
If something as mundane as prawn crackers is transformed into a thrill ride, it’s clear there’s something special going on. In their takeaway-style polythene bag, these are sparky with the tingly heat of Szechuan peppercorn and come with little bowls of Newari achaar (Nepal-style pickles): these include what looks like a slightly pickled and fermented (and fiery. Actually, just take fiery as read from now on) coleslaw; a mint dip of deep, resonating sweet vibrancy; a red chilli ditto; and small, meaty prawns pickled with methi seeds and chillies. We’re told that the longer they pickle, the more intense they become. Aged prawns? Really? But I’m sold: they are extraordinary little explosions of almost fish-saucy flavour.
As are naga chilly (sic) beef puffs, like the most addictive liaison between Chinese cooking (those dim sum stalwarts of buttery short pastry stuffed with jammy char siu) and the full-on spicing of the Indian subcontinent. As is the Tibetan way, we’re given chopsticks to eat with, but I’m ramming these ambrosial little pies into my face by hand. It’s hard not to adopt a shovelling technique to Tibetan duck momo, too: dumplings that are sticky underneath from pan-frying and sticky on top from a treacly, sour-sweet-chilli glaze. In all honesty, the duck’s a bit wasted: these could have been stuffed with Spam and they’d be every bit as good.
I rarely order paneer because it usually leaves me tofu-cold, but Madame D’s Sino-Indian “Hakka” version, made from buffalo milk, is fried into taut, creamy cubes and bathed in a magnificently garlicky, sweet chilli sauce with peppers and onions, something that haunts me (and everyone around me) for days afterwards. Pork Nepal brings shards of fatty meat braised, marinated and dried into a pleasingly biltong-like chewiness tossed through a salad of red onion and tomato, the whole thing shimmering with ginger, garlic and freshly ground spices, all sharpened with lime juice. Consider every fibre of my palate fully stimulated.
My senses are ringing, and mildly bludgeoned, too – even though, I’m told, they’ve apparently toned down the heat a few notches since opening. (The cramped, knick-knacky little space is very noisy; it’s apparently modelled on the sitting room of the fictional Madame D.) But it’s not often I come out of a restaurant and immediately want to go back to eat the rest of the shortish menu. Possibly all to myself.
I’ve never been to the Himalayas, never cooked the food; I’ve only experienced Nepalese or Tibetan cooking in the likes of Euston and Edinburgh. Of course I’ve Googled since eating here, but boring everyone with newly acquired “knowledge” isn’t exactly playing the game. So I’ve no idea whether or not the food at Madame D is particularly authentic, nor do I care. Owners Harneet and Devina Baweja have travelled extensively in the region, and I’m happy to take their word for it. I’m also eminently capable of recognising kitchen skills, and know absolutely that head chef Nirmal Save understands the basic concept of outrageous deliciousness. It can be as bastardised as chicken tikka masala for all I care, as long as they keep feeding me naga chilly puffs.
Madame D 76 Commercial Street, London E1, 020-7247 1341. Open dinner only, Tues-Sat, 6pm-midnight. About £25 a head, plus drinks and service.
Food 8/10
Atmosphere 6/10
Value for money 8/10
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