A pub, that most world-building of familiar words, can mean many things: Sunday gatherings filled with ballooning yorkshire puddings, babies and dogs; locals ensconced at the bar on stools they’ve seemingly become surgically attached to; ‘Tequila?’ Oh sod it, one won’t hurt…
Say the word ‘pub’ in certain circles of London, however, and you can throw all that regular stuff out the window. We’re not talking about bougie gastropubs, a subsection that’s now firmly part of the framework, but places like The Tamil Crown: less a Pub 2.0 than a restaurant sneakily masquerading under the guise of supposed informality.
The second Islington outpost from the team behind The Tamil Prince (helmed by head chef Prince Durairaj formerly of beloved basement eatery Roti King), The Tamil Crown has set up its stall a few postcodes up the property ladder, leaving the Caledonian Road for a quiet backstreet just behind Angel Station.
The lamb chops were fantastic; blackened and crusty on the outside, and melt-in-your-mouth tender in the middle, they’re exactly what a lamb chop should be
Split over two floors – a small, more traditional dining room upstairs, and an equally sardine-like downstairs carved in half, one side for tables, the other with a fireplace and casual seating – it’s the sort of place where, to get anywhere, be that toilet or table, you must become intimately acquainted with your neighbours. As we are shepherded upstairs and then down again in search of our booking, I find myself apologising at least three times to fellow winter-jacket-wide people before even sitting down: a particularly English start to a South Indian meal.
Pulling through a handful of menu staples from its sister restaurant (thin, crispy okra fries with an earthy, spiced aftertaste; robata lamb chops, of which more on later…), there has nonetheless been an effort to separate the Crown from the Prince. Disappointingly, what looks like the star dish – a whole sauce-slathered crab, from the Karaikudi region of Tamil Nadu – is off the menu tonight, but a small plate starter of beef uttapam, a thick, spongey, crumpet-like batter spread with chunks of meat and a richly spiced masala was a special thing.
Thinly sliced, pleasingly-charred lime leaf roasted chicken came as a small plate, buoyed by a tastefully understatedly pineapple chutney, while a ‘large plate’ (note the quote marks) of coconut prawn moilee – a silky, creamy sauce with four curled prawns stranded in its middle – was delicious albeit a little underwhelming. Under any other chef, it would seem cruel to single out a side dish made for mopping as a star, but under the one-time Roti King himself, the flaky roti are layered enough to billow out like pastry paper lanterns; I’d hang them up to swoon over any day.
And so to the lamb chops. Now, let’s make this clear, the lamb chops were fantastic; blackened and crusty on the outside, and melt-in-your-mouth tender in the middle, they’re exactly what a lamb chop should be – albeit for the princely sum of £34. But the chop-eating experience is what makes The Tamil Crown feel like it’s not quite cemented its identity, its vibe. Such is their determination to make this Not A Restaurant, they’ve amped up the pub side in confusing ways. Has anyone – even on a Friday night – ever thought that the optimum conditions for memorable dining are shouting over a banging soundtrack of Fred Again..?
Draught beer on tap is great. An informal, relaxed atmosphere is great. But maybe, sometimes, we should just let pubs be pubs and restaurants be restaurants.
The vibe Low-lit and loud, with a superlative menu.
The food Memorably-spiced offerings from the Tamil Nadu region of India.
The drink Draught beers on tap and a wide range of spice-laced cocktails.
Time Out tip Order more roti than you think you’ll need, and probably another uttapam while you’re at it.