City Spice restaurant review: How a Brick Lane curry house embraced vegan food

In the heartland of plant-based eating that is London’s East End, it’s no surprise that Indian restaurants are going the way of trendy food trucks and street markets. Don Connigale heads out to sample Brick Lane’s ‘first’ all-vegan curry menu

Ruby, take your love to task: improbable as it may seem, several restaurants in Brick Lane are literally the best restaurant in Brick Lane (City Spice)

It is wise to take most of the banners proclaiming “award winning” that festoon the windows of Brick Lane curry houses with a large pinch of saffron. The sheer number of “restaurant of the year” and “best in the street/city/country” accolades can only reasonably be explained by a fracture in the space-time continuum, and such is the intensity of the awards arms race that there probably should be an honour for the brave restaurant that does not purport to have won any awards at all. It would not go to City Spice, which collects them by the karahi load (of which more later).

In such an environment any competitive edge is to be prized and City Spice has played a blinder in seizing on the diet trend du jour, and producing alongside its regular offering what it says is Brick Lane’s first vegan curry menu. True, many of the area’s restaurants offer vegan options anyway (a large poster on a nearby establishment trumpets slightly pleadingly that “most of our vegetarian food is vegan”: this is a barrow that everyone is keen to jump on), but nonetheless credit to owner Abdul Ahad for putting together a dedicated and thoughtful separate menu.

He says it took him two weeks of experimentation, particularly with oil blends to substitute for ghee, and the results are impressive: two vegan starter options and a dozen varied and interesting main courses, including several daals, a thali, a jalfrezi and a rogan josh. Cauliflower, aubergine, okra and pulses feature heavily and sides of rice, roti and chappati bring animal-free carbs (naans sadly are a wee bit buttery to make the cut – but you’ve got to sacrifice something, right?)

It’s worth cautioning at the outset that, belying the restaurant’s name but in common with many of its neighbours, dishes billed as medium or medium hot arrive invariably on the mild side. Perhaps this erring on the side of caution is something Brick Lane eateries need to do on account of their heavy footfall of work parties and tourists. Whatever the reason, if you like your curry to pack some heat, mention so when ordering.

A pleasing pickle and the house channa chat are highlights from round one: though is parsley really a sage swap for coriander?

City Spice is certainly popular. We arrive late on a Thursday – having dodged the infamous hectoring curry touts stationed outside most of the road’s restaurants, who try almost physically to drag you in – and the place is rammed, noisy, ebullient. All 40-odd upstairs and 70-odd downstairs seats are full with what seems a mix of office groups, pals’ nights out and city trippers. Tables are packed tightly together which adds to the buzzy atmosphere (though maybe would make it not the best choice for an intimate evening).

Decor and music are familiar high street curry house: white tablecloths, red cushioned chairs and Asian-inspired artwork. Unchallenging and perfectly pleasant, as are the opening poppadoms and condiments. Nothing mould-breaking, but the lime pickle is agreeably punchy and the minted yoghurt does its soothing stuff (not in the vegan menu, of course, though a sweet coconut paste stands in nicely).

We sample both vegan and omnivore menus, the former perhaps a surprise winner. City channa chat combines chickpeas, cucumber and tomato in a chunky dice with earthy massala spices and cumin warmth. On the flesh side a mixed kebab brings tandoori chicken (tender, good, loves a squeeze of lemon) and lamb tikka (bit chewy), which is redeemed by slow-cooked minced lamb (juicy, flavourful, especially satisfying with a dollop of raita).

For carni mains we try some of the restaurant’s “award winning” dishes, firstly murgh massala. This is to be recommended; the combination of shredded tandoori chicken and minced meat with well-balanced ginger, cloves and garam masala is a bit leftfield and goes down a treat, the succulence of the meat a reminder of what a vegan menu can’t easily replicate.

Flavour is everywhere at City Spice, but some curry lovers may long to turn up the heat

As with starters, sheep proves the weak link with mains: black pepper lamb and mushroom dwells disconsolately in a sauce that is richly spiced but simply too oily. Shyleti lamb shank is a better iteration of the meat, tender on the bone. It is described on the menu though as “fiery, flavoursome” and while it commendably is the latter it disappointingly is not the former.

Vegan mains are tasty. First up we have Bangladeshi runner beans with aubergine, which makes a change from the usual protein-in-thickened-sauce template, and feels even vaguely healthy. It comes gently (again, perhaps a little too gently) seasoned, and in a portion that as throughout the meal is generous. Next is the evening’s standout dish, shobji garlic: fried mushrooms, potato and cauliflower, warmly seasoned with cardamom and cinnamon, with spinach and aubergine, all suffused with smoky roast garlic. Delicious. Who needs meat?

In keeping with the bustling ambience, service is brisk, friendly and efficient. Unusually though, dishes come garnished with parsley rather than the more customary and aromatic coriander. We wonder whether the restaurant has run out of the good stuff, but are told it is so as not to “overwhelm other flavours”. Whatever the explanation, it is not a substitution likely to win any awards.

And awards are something that City Spice, like its neighbours, gathers with gusto. It has given itself the title “King of Brick Lane”, while“Masterchef 2017”, on a banner adorning the restaurant’s frontage and reported in several newspapers, refers to Coventry-based agency MasterChef Promotions, not its unrelated TV namesake. Bit cheeky? Perhaps, but that’s Brick Lane: you don’t come necessarily for authenticity (which is anyway a will-o’-the-wisp) but for fun and vim, for a fine feed and decent value, for pilau rice and Cobra beer and chilli and poppadoms and cardamom pods and mango chutney and fluffy naans and rich sauce and a good night out with mates, and to leave with a full belly and a smile on your face. And City Spice is all that.

Food ***
Ambience ****
Service ****