As a child growing up in Birmingham, I was spoiled for choice when it came to Indian food.

At our local bakery, my sister and I would gaze at the Gulab jamun marinating in syrup, and the golden swirls of jalebi.

Assorted bhajis, pakoras, aloo tikki, and samosas would sit freshly folded after being fried each day — a tradition that began in 1974. When we moved to rural Ireland, we packed 50 samosas in a freezer bag.

One year, my sister chose rasmalai over a traditional birthday cake, selecting the soft sponge soaked in a sweet, spiced milk from behind the glass counter of a shop on Soho Road.

Birmingham’s Indian food scene, the ‘birthplace of Balti’, is what made me a good cook. I spent years trying to match the quality of those mom-and-pop shops.

Since moving to London, I find a real joy living near to to such amazing Indian restaurant once more.

I love being able to stroll down Brick Lane, haggling the best deal with the waiters who are luring us in with their promises of a succulent Indian meal, knowing they can deliver.

Over on the other side of the city, in Piccadilly Circus, Veeraswamy — which at 99 years old is Britain’s oldest Indian restaurant — is a different kind of nostalgic.

This place is bougie, tied up with royalty and Empire. It even catered for the Queen at Buckingham Palace one year, the owners say.

But now, the Crown is trying to evict Veeraswamy from it’s home on Regent Street, a property where sunlight floods the dining room, in order to conduct renovations on the Grade II listed building it sits in.

‘It’s a tragedy’, owner Ranjit Mathrani, 81, told Metro, describing its possible closure as ‘an act of cultural vandalism’.

Veeraswamy wasn’t the first Indian restaurant to open in the UK. The now-closed Hindoostane Coffee House beat it by 110 years, but Veeraswamy has been a pioneer of British Indian cuisine.

It gave a taste of what was to come: a Britain where an Indian-inspired creation ‘invented’ in Glasgow has been England’s national dish for many years.

More ‘high end’ than ‘high street’, Veeraswamy’s past clientele includes the future King of England Edward VIII, Winston Churchill, Princess Anne, and a Danish prince.

The latter, legend goes, inadvertently inspired the Great British tradition of ‘pints and curry’, by shipping a keg of Carlsberg beer to Veeraswamy each year for his visits.

‘It’s intertwined with British history’, Ranjit says. ‘The history of the British in India, history of Indian food in Britain, and part of the fabric of one of the world’s most interesting shopping streets.’

While it may not have meant to make pints-and-curry a ‘thing’ worthy of pop culture references, making a mark on the wider country has always been part of Veeraswamy’s mission.

Bringing Indian food to Britain before it was cool

From the day it was opened in 1926 by the great-grandson of an English general and an Indian princess, the restaurant set out to introduce Britons to Indian cuisine with a fusion of the cultures.

Nearly a century later, that mission is alive. Forget chicken tikka masala — alongside the Mulligatawny soup from Veeraswamy’s original menu, the restaurant serves up a Bengali-inspired beetroot croquettes with an English Stilton cheese sauce and Bhutanese green chilli.

On first bite, the £17 starter feels overwhelmed by the Stilton. But the sweetness of the beets soon breaks through, and warm spices tickle the tongue, with the waves of flavours marrying in the aftertaste.

It seems everything on the menu — including a citrus-based drink where you can’t tell where the orange ends and the gin begins, and a crunchy spinach chaat drizzled with yoghurt, coriander chutney and tamarind — has layers and stages to its tastes and textures.

I always judge an Indian restaurant though, on its samosas. If they’re freshly handmade in-house, it’s a sure sign the restaurant cares about quality

With Veeraswamy’s, I made the mistake of judging a book by its cover. They looked worryingly akin to the thin one-note versions you buy in freezer bags at the supermarket.

But they weren’t. Although thin, they had a crispy exterior, a chewy inner layer and the warm explosion of flavour of the filling, packed tight.

How do they compare to the samosas of Soho Road? To paraphrase Ranjit — they tasted almost as good as nostalgia.

‘I think that was the best meal I’ve ever had, I don’t know how they got so much flavour’, one customer, Cian, told Metro who was celebrating his 21st birthday at the restaurant.

He added: ‘I think it’s very wrong [that it could face closure].’

Cian’s mum, Deirdre added: ‘There are not many restaurants that stand the test of time, and to stop it now, before it reaches the centenary, would be criminal.’

For Ranjit, ‘the best compliment customers ever give us is, “That was almost as good as my mother’s”.’

A home away from home

Beyond being a culinary outpost in a Britain before Indian food was popular, the incarnation of Veeraswamy became a meeting place — almost a right of passage — for Indian immigrants newly arriving in London.

Ranjit himself was among them, 34 years before he bought it with his wife, Namita Panjabi.

The former investment banker says: ‘I came here in 1962 to study at Cambridge and I was taken here by my father’s friends. In those days, as a customer, you always aspired to be there.’

By 1996, Veeraswamy was a ‘faded version of past glories’.

Ranjit says: ‘It was all a bit musty. It was faded. It had all the aspirations like tablecloths, yes, but the carpets were slightly frayed, very worn.’

They were warned at the time that the Crown Estate, which owns the property, would not extend the lease when it ended in 2003.

But modernisation and some money turned around the restaurant’s fortunes enough to convince the Crown to let them stay, allowing Veeraswamy to rise to new heights.

‘We took it back to what it had evoked, which is the Maharaja palaces of India’, Ranjit says.

They were awarded a Michelin star and were called to the service of royalty. ‘Buckingham Palace invited us to cater for the President of Indian in 2008 at a major reception held by Queen Elizabeth,’ Ranjit says.

‘That was the first time an Indian restaurant had ever been invited. I was delighted, very pleased. We were honoured.’

Veeraswamy survived Covid-19, months of lockdowns and the rising cost of energy and supplies when so many other businesses have died.

It’s almost returned to a level of profitability not seen since before the pandemic. The restaurant group MW Eat — which includes Ranjit’s other venues Chutney Mary and Masala Zone — made profits of more than £3.3 million last year.

Ranjit finds it ironic that the Crown Estate has now decided against renewing Veeraswamy’s lease.

The Crown Estate said it needs to carry out a ‘comprehensive refurbishment’ of Victory House, the listed property where Veeraswamy is located, and remove the restaurant’s entrance.

Ranjit says the Crown Estate has not entertained his proposed alternatives. Now its future is unclear, with Ranjit searching for an alternative site and planning an appeal.

A spokesperson for the Crown Estate told Metro: ‘The Crown Estate has a duty to generate value for the nation, while acting as responsible stewards for this historic part of London. We need to carry out a comprehensive refurbishment of Victory House.

‘This includes a major upgrade to the offices and improving the entrance to make it more accessible.

‘Due to the limited options available in this listed building we need to remove the entrance to the restaurant, which means we will not be able to offer Veeraswamy an extension when their lease expires.

‘We appreciate this is upsetting for Veeraswamy and have offered to help find new premises elsewhere on our portfolio having explored other options to accommodate their needs. Veeraswamy has been a valued part of Regent Street for many years. We thank them and their customers for their contributions to the West End.’

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