The butter chicken here ruined every other butter chicken for me — silky, smoky, just the right warmth. The room glows, the staff remember your name, and the garlic naan arrives blistered and steaming.
We came for a birthday and stayed three hours. Nobody rushed us, the chai kept coming, and dessert was on the house. This is our celebration place now.
A serious kitchen. The biryani is properly dum-steamed — you can taste the saffron in every layer — and the tandoori has real char, not oven fakery. Spicing is confident without showing off.
Service is sharp and the takeaway travels brilliantly; the samosa chaat was still crisp at home. One of the best Indian tables in the city, full stop.
As someone who grew up on this food, I don't impress easily — but the pav bhaji tastes like Mumbai station at midnight, in the best way. Fresh pav, proper butter, lemon on the side.
My kids devoured the mild korma while I worked through the pickles. We have already booked our next visit. Come hungry.