Patri Hammersmith

Authentic Flavors and Unmatched Service!

Dining at Patri is akin to savoring a culinary sonnet composed by chefs well-versed in the poetry of Indian street food, where ordinary ingredients are transformed into vibrant feasts of kaleidoscopic flavor. In this intimate Hammersmith haunt that doesn’t quite seek out pretentiousness as much as it celebrates its cheerful ordinariness, my senses are repeatedly set ablaze by chaotically charming chaats and transcendent thalis. One can’t help but marvel at how even pani puri, manageable phyllo pockets that often meet unfortunate demises elsewhere, here sing with the lively discord of chutneys and spices, performed under the kind tutelage of a waiter who’s more of a cultural guide than mere menu consultant.

True, æsthetically, it might try to impersonate a bustling Mumbai rail-side eatery—there's a modest allure in the postage-stamp-sized tables and eclectic homage paid to Indian antiquity on décor, never mind the occasional bifurcation over discomfort versus character. Yet, what it lacks in size it makes up with warmth, both in hospitality graciously given by its exuberant team and the comforting sprawl of curry-laden generosity on offer, even when ventures into territory priced with self-esteem suspiciously close to aristocracy headbutting capitalism (word to the VAT surprise aficionados). Of course, should one dare parody brevity amidst menus deserving of epic ballads rather than stanzas, let the eye roam over their stunning roast chicken Murgh and rogan josh tales, wonton of ill wishes though I express citing portions’ parsimonious pastimes. As they say, better have savored and tasted, though we lament the tariff, than never to have loved lamb kebabs at all. — Penelope Savory