Tikka Chance

IT’S Friday night, it’s freezing cold, and confusion reigns. We’ve come to the heartland of Oxford’s curry belt to try out one of its newest, most-talked about eateries, but something’s not right.

We’re at Majliss – and while it looks amazing, it doesn’t feel like a curry house. No plush carpets, no flock wallpaper, and not even a gentle sitar melody to sooth our ragged nerves.

Instead, it’s all minimalist décor, neutral colours and ludicrously lavish bundles of fresh flowers – with just the odd palm to give it a tropical flavour.

It’s brilliant if you’re a Michelin starred restaurant, but the Curry Brothers are creatures of habit… and we feel a bit lost.

Fortunately the friendliest waiter in the Western world is hovering, grinning widely. And as fate would have it he’s a mind reader.

“Two Cobra beers?”, says our new best friend. And why not? Mindful of causing offence we accept – at regular and frequent intervals.

It’s a new joint but the crew at Majliss are no novices.

It’s run by the four Miah brothers, the dudes behind that reliable old bolthole, Tiffins Tandoori in Kidlington and these boys know their way around the spices. Like many of the best curry chefs, the guys come from the Ground Zero of curry culture – Sylhet, up in the top right hand corner of Bangladesh – and after a quick chat, it soon became clear that they know everyone in town.

Anyway. Enough of that. What about the food? Well, creatures of habit, we usually stick to our favourites, but after another Cobra and the usual popadum and chutney warm-up, manager Loylu and his bros convinced us to go off piste and leave it to the experts.

And it’s just as well we did.

We all love a tikka massala and a lamb rogan, but the yummy food these guys cooked up was unlike anything we’d ever seen.

I’m talking juicy king prawns as big as your fist, perched atop the tastiest towers of prawny loveliness this side of the Khyber Pass. Served up with chicken tikka, juicy aubergine, and crunchy samosas with tingly, tangly ginger and chilli sauce, they call it the Majliss Special. It sounds like a train, but it’s a slice of tastebud heaven.

At £14 for a portion for four (or two greedy ones) it’s a steal.

Smirking at each other, we knew we’d got lucky. But, deviously, we also knew the Majliss had gone and peaked too soon. They’d set the bar high… and couldn’t possibly top it.

Or so we thought. Then, emerging like the three wise men, the guys struggle across the room with an eye-popping range of platters loaded with some mighty fine creations, more worthy of Raymond Blanc than your typical curry house.

Yet more prawns came in the shape of their speciality – galda chingri ruposhi. And they were easy to eat, with the white fleshy meat released from, but attached to, their golden fried shrimpy shells – still gazing vacantly towards the Majliss’s magnolia ceiling.

Then there was the appropriately-named coriander and garlic explosion that is the Majlis Marvel chicken, and a lovely dry bhuna-style chicken lacknari.

Then comes the set-closer… the jewel in the crown… the 12-inch, dub version peak of perfection… the Bangladeshi Baskets!

These little Turner Prize winning pieces of culinary nirvana took the form of nests of deep fried potato (don’t ask them how they make it, they won’t tell you… well, they wouldn’t tell us… and we threatened to sing!) into which is piled sliced meat, in a lovely tangy sauce.

It’s heady stuff, but like all gourmonds, the Miah clan know a thing or two about hot and cool, rough and smooth, yin and yang – and served up a big plate of pilau rice, a buttery nan, and a refreshing bowl of Bhindi bhaji – fresh chopped okra, which cools and adds a bit of healthy green crunch to proceedings.

Now, we’re not given to exaggeration, but this was exceptional food. The kind of top notch nosh that would be served up to alpha male Moghul emperors by legions of silk-clad concubines. High-end dining, Bangladeshi style.

And, here’s the amazing thing. Go there with your mates and you’ll pay just under £50 for the lot – and, believe us, that’s enough to keep four or five of you happy! That’s without the Cobras of course.

The Curry Brothers will be back at Majliss; if they’ll have us. And if you decide to give it a go yourself, and you should if you know what’s good for you, break a habit. Forget the chicken tikka masala, and surrender to the Miah posse… and their funky flights of tastebud fancy!