Zindiya Streatery & Bar
BACK IN FROM THE COLD
Moseley has long been blessed with great options for curry, but mostly variations of the same menu; jalfrezi, dopiaza, tikka masala, korma—you get the picture. Then, not far off three years ago, things got totally shook up when Zindiya arrived with their take on Indian street food. There was very little on the menu I recognised and with a tapas style approach to dining, it was as welcome as a summer breeze.
They’d also imaginatively and playfully transformed the space into a bustling Indian street; with vintage signs and posters, shuttered shop fronts emblazoned with logos, fairly lights and—more often than not—a warbling Bollywood soundtrack to boot. We couldn’t get enough of it; Saturday lunch, late afternoons, early evenings, late evenings… to be honest, any time we could actually get in there. Always full, it offered a two-hour escape to a little bit of India.
Our visits eventually became infrequent and now it’s been at least six months since we were last there. Thinking about it, we’ve had the odd grumble about how spicy hot everything had become—I like things hot—but after three mouthfuls everything always seemed to taste the same. I think I’d also become a bit bored by the menu, although I guess that’s just from having gone a lot; maybe familiarity does breed contempt. Nevertheless, it just somehow seemed to have lost its mojo.
But, walking in, even on a quiet early Sunday evening, it feels good to be back. It’s the sort of room that immediately puts a smile on your face. We’ve already discussed trying something different; for me that extends to the booze. It’s dry January so I won’t be having my regular Longhorn IPA and Georgie sells me the idea of a Veri Lime & Lemoni, which the menu describes as “a perfect balance of sweet, spice, light and bold brings together flavours from across India that will turn you upside down.”
Katrina’s not keen on the lager option—Lawless—so goes for a prosecco and I ask for two Veri Lime and Lemonis. The waiter clearly senses there’s an unusual situation at play, “it’s a mocktail, non-alcoholic,” he says, waiting to confirm I understand. Then, after a pause, reaffirming “there’s no alcohol in it.” Well, no need to rub it in.
Off he goes and we start to compile our order; we’re going in big as is our way with tapas. In the meantime my mocktail arrives and it’s an absolute joy, like sucking intensely on a lemon sherbert at the maximum fizzy-sweet point, but with just the lightest hint of curry spices zinging across your palate. I’d happily have one of these again, even when dry January is done. Although I probably won’t.
Veri Lime & Lemoni
And before you can say Kinkartavyavimoodh, the first wave of dishes land; eight crisp-stringy balls of hard to fault onion bhajis with a coriander and mint yoghurty dip; marinated and battered aubergine fritters with tamarind dip and then two lookalike chaat dishes.
Onion bhaji, aubergine fritters and papri chaat
The papri chaat is layers of sweet, sour and spicy flavours and contrasting textures; crispy dough wafers sit at the base topped with a swirl of yoghurty mix that includes potato, chickpeas, mint and tamarind chutneys, finished with coriander and sev (crispy noodles). It’s a delight, simultaneously spicing and soothing your palate, but it’s somehow eclipsed by the samosa chaat; compiled and working in more or less way but at its base sits a vegetable samosa that’s mostly mashed potato and peas encased in pastry. Initially crisp, the yoghurt mix with its spicy chick peas and chutneys eventually entice the pastry into that optimum stage of being both simultaneously crispy and soggy. But you can’t linger on such mouthfuls of unbridled joy; it’s a diva moment and that sweet spot quickly passes the point of no return.
It already looks like we have ample food and then we’re playing table Tetris to make room and slot into place the final three dishes. The keema pav is a bread roll with a pot of subtly spiced minced lamb sauce and peas; unfortunately it’s a little over seasoned. The paneer tikka does exactly what it should— slabs of soft to the bite cheese with a lightly charred vibrant tikka spiced crust. The dosa lamb is more spicy, minced lamb, this time with lentils, wrapped in savoury pancakes. The mince is on the dry side, but there’s plenty of wet in the shape of the accompanying sambhar—lentil stew—its sweet and sour heat working in complete tandem with the comfort of a korma-esque coconut chutney. Unfortunately, there’s an unexpected crunch in the minced lamb that on closer inspection turns out to be undercooked lentils.
Paneer tikka
Lamb dosa
After a break to let the first wave of eating settle, we start to discuss a doggy bag. But, not only do I still have all my taste buds intact, they’re fully awakened and eager for more. My Veri Lime and Lemoni is also serving to be the perfect drink-pairing and before long we’ve pretty much demolished the lot; they’ll be no doggy bag and the diet starts again on Monday.
By the time we order the bill, the room is about three quarters full, and with an extra prosecco it comes in at £53. As ever, the service has been great and we waddle off both full and content. Sure, there are a couple of quibbles with the food, but in terms of the full package, it’s been a more than satisfying return.
Zindiya has definitely got its mojo back.
RECOMMENDED
21 Woodbridge Road, Moseley, Birmingham B13 8EJ
