After a rickety, over-long bus ride on the 42 from Tower Bridge to Camberwell Green, I debouched into the bitterly cold and miserable February night air and made my way to The Tiger to meet the rest of the Dining Club. It proved to be an excellent venue for the rendezvous and I enjoyed two pints of Double Dark, my glance occasionally distracted by the stuffed deer head on the wall wearing the bow tie.
A little while later and we were making our way along grim, litter strewn Camberwell Green Road in search of the Pasha Hotel, within whose bowels lurks the Kyrgyz/Kazakh/Turkish restaurant for which we had an 8 o’clock table booking. The hotel, easily identifiable thanks to the impressive array of flag poles outside the entrance, is a welcoming beacon of light in otherwise less than salubrious environs. Walking into the sedate and immaculately kept lobby from the blustery winter evening put one immediately at ease. I suddenly felt like I was on holiday. This feeling was amplified during the long stroll through red-carpeted wood paneled corridors, past pool tables and hair salons, in search of the restaurant itself. Like Alice disappearing down the rabbit hole, we weren’t in Kansas any more (if you’ll excuse the mix of literary references), but somewhere else beginning with K just west of the steppe.
There are two sections to the by then already bustling restaurant: the first with low tables surrounded by cushions and exotic wall drapery, the second over the bridge (yes there is a bridge) to the more traditional dining room style section. Our table was in the latter area (a relief for a non-nomad who doesn’t really do crouching very well) and as we sat we shouted our thanks to the waitress who seated us, over the din of the already well underway entertainment. This took the form of a saxophonist and a female singer performing vigorous versions of Russian pop songs to a karaoke style backing track at unnecessary volume.
The menu looked promising, if bewilderingly extensive. Investigating the Russian lager on draught was the first task and while everyone else went for tried and tested Baltika, I had a go on the unfamiliar Stary Melnik. It was fine but a little sweet and perfumed for me – I switched to the reliably dryer and crisper Baltica for the rest of the evening. Although the set menu looked pretty good value, none of us opted for it as other items had already caught our eye. There was a brief discussion about whether it would be in breach of Dining Club rules to order any of the Turkish items on the menu, and I successfully argued that since these dishes surely must be Kyrgyz/Kazakh interpretations of Turkish cuisine, they were therefore acceptable.
To start, Lucy went for a simple salad, Sarah went for the borsht and I for the 'Pasha special'. Katie ordered the borsok, which turned out to be a bit of a bad move. They were a basket of savoury doughnuts with a yoghurt dip, and while laudable in themselves, were clearly more of an accompaniment appropriate for the table rather than an individual starter. The waitress really should have advised us of this. I wasn’t overly fond of my 'Pasha special' – sliced smoked Turkish sausage and pickles in a thin tomato sauce. The sourness from the pickles and vinegar overwhelmed everything to the extent that any other flavour was extinguished. I eyed the borsht jealously, as it, on the other hand, looked pretty good.
We waited for our main courses while I tried to pretend it was perfectly normal for a saxophonist to be wandering from table to table blasting a rendition of the theme from Austin Powers in people’s faces. For the rest of the evening Katie would intermittently ask me if I was 'finding it weird yet', but against all evidence to the contrary I resolutely stuck to my guns and claimed there was nothing remarkable in any of the subsequent entertainments laid on, eccentric as they appeared compared to our rather more demure British restaurant traditions.
From a cursory bit of research I had discovered that the national dish of Kyrgyzstan was Beshbarmak, which I understood to be a sort of stew incorporating large pieces of a dismembered animal (occasionally a horse), including the head. I was therefore pleased to see this on the menu and excitedly ordered it. I was a bit crestfallen when what arrived looked less like a stew and more like a drab bowl of wide strips of pasta in a thin consommé with small pieces of mutton on top. It tasted absolutely superb, however. The pasta had been cooked in a very rich, very concentrated salty stock and the slow cooked lamb melted in the mouth. It was intensely flavoursome, sensational in fact. The other diners seemed to fair less well and their responses to their mains veered between diffidence and antipathy. Lucy actively disliked her Chicken Alaturka, and indeed, I sympathised when I tried a small piece of the dry meat in a very unexceptional tomato and pepper sauce. Sarah’s stuffed peppers were “ok”, as was Katie’s Plov. The latter was plain, vaguely spiced rice with some undistinguished lamb – this was especially disappointing as it seemed to be heavily promoted on the menu. Another slight niggle was the vodka that I ordered to finish my meal. It was served warm and, at £3 a pop, this was irritating.
From a cursory bit of research I had discovered that the national dish of Kyrgyzstan was Beshbarmak, which I understood to be a sort of stew incorporating large pieces of a dismembered animal (occasionally a horse), including the head. I was therefore pleased to see this on the menu and excitedly ordered it. I was a bit crestfallen when what arrived looked less like a stew and more like a drab bowl of wide strips of pasta in a thin consommé with small pieces of mutton on top. It tasted absolutely superb, however. The pasta had been cooked in a very rich, very concentrated salty stock and the slow cooked lamb melted in the mouth. It was intensely flavoursome, sensational in fact. The other diners seemed to fair less well and their responses to their mains veered between diffidence and antipathy. Lucy actively disliked her Chicken Alaturka, and indeed, I sympathised when I tried a small piece of the dry meat in a very unexceptional tomato and pepper sauce. Sarah’s stuffed peppers were “ok”, as was Katie’s Plov. The latter was plain, vaguely spiced rice with some undistinguished lamb – this was especially disappointing as it seemed to be heavily promoted on the menu. Another slight niggle was the vodka that I ordered to finish my meal. It was served warm and, at £3 a pop, this was irritating.
The spectacularly good Beshbarmak aside, a disappointing evening food-wise was tempered by the atmosphere and buzz of the restaurant. Families lounged in the cushioned area, while larger parties were clearly settled in at their tables for the evening. When the belly dancer appeared, I hardly raised an eyebrow. The welcome was very friendly, the staff efficient yet relaxed and the service was leisurely in a good way.
Maybe a return visit one day will establish that (apart from me) we were just unlucky with our choices from a very extensive menu. The many variations on savoury stuffed pastries and dumplings in evidence on other tables looked particularly worth exploring. The fact that I’m not only willing but slightly keen to give it another go speaks more for the atmosphere and intrigue of the place than it does for the somewhat underwhelming (with notable exceptions) food that we experienced on the evening.
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| The Camberwell Steppe. |
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| Salami and vinegar |
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| Another Russian salad. |
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| Impeccable calligraphy |
Pasha Hotel,
158 Camberwell Road,
Camberwell,
London,
SE5 0EE
http://www.pasharestaurants.co.uk/
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