I am standing outside Diwana when a father in a gilet, progeny in tow, screeches in the direction of the restaurant.
“We’re definitely not eating there, Angus!”
“What…?” Angus, presumably the son, turns his head to see where his father’s caprice has landed this time. “Oh…haha…vegetarian.”
I smile, because my meal has just improved immeasurably.
Diwana is, as this father observed, a vegetarian restaurant on Drummond Street founded in 1971 — truly spitting distance from campus.
My date shows up and I relay this story to him — he finds it funny enough to make me think I should put it in this review.
When you go through the entrance at Diwana, you’ll see dozens of reviews stuck up. On the occasions I’ve looked through them, I have found a range from truly ancient (think 1976, when most Londoners were scared of spices and even more scared of vegetarians) to rather more modern.
These reviews tell me two things – that I can expect good food, and that my writing this review is entirely surplus to requirements.
Alas, I’m here now. We are seated quickly and I’m pleased to find the restaurant bright with the sun and buzzing with chatter. The service is curt and quite reassuringly emotionless – no-one checks how your food is here. You might find this refreshing in the customer-focused world of today, I certainly do, but make of it what you will.
We order fairly gently — two starters and a thali.
A thali is a wide selection of smaller dishes, furnishing you with the opportunity to taste a broader range of things than you might otherwise. The curries that come as a part of this melange aren’t the usual rich, Anglified fare you often get – they’re much thinner and do taste very homemade, and not always in a good way, but altogether very capable of being self-consciously shovelled-onto-bread-with-fork. The thali also offers the kind of variety that spares you from menu paralysis.
On the other end of things, the starters we order are, perhaps confusingly, the richer side of the meal. Starters is possibly the wrong word – Diwana serves a large selection of chaat, snacks originally served at the roadside. They are the standouts of the meal, threading sweet with sour beautifully and possessing a supremely satisfying texture, at once crispy and creamy. We ordered bhel puri, a mixture of puffed rice and chutneys, and dahi vadas, which are deep-fried lentil balls soaked in spiced yoghurt – they taste as good as they sound.
My date is something of a goblin when it comes to food – my leftovers are very efficiently and rapidly scoffed, but if you aren’t lucky enough to be accompanied by a similar human vacuum, I would recommend you order slightly less than you think you need. Whilst we don’t order them this time around, the dosa at Diwana are possibly their best dish, although they can be particularly difficult, delicious though they are, to have to yourself – sharing is the word.
Ultimately, it’s most difficult to argue with the price — the ~£16 we each paid will only get smaller with larger groups, and it has the additional benefit of free BYOB (though only wine and beer – the fact our waiter strained to point this out, with weary insistence, suggests he’s seen what happens when it’s vodka). This makes it a great spot to feel a little alive, either with a gaggle or by yourself.
It does mean braving the bizarre Euston Road crossing – the one with no lights and a healthy quantity of pink furry rickshaws perfectly happy to run you down if it means they can charge their customers extra, if only for the entertainment value garnered by splattering you across the curb. But, to its credit, Diwana is still worth a visit – the gilet-wearing finance creature from earlier missed some real value for money, but I guess we shouldn’t be that surprised – after all, he named his son after a type of beef.
Dahi vada: £5.95
Bhel poori: £5.95
Diwana thali: £17.95
Total (incl. service charge): £32.84
Total per person: £16.42
This article appeared in CG93
