Red Fort is still unbreachable

This review was first published in November 2001

The Red Fort has been around so long as to be something of a landmark. It is a survivor from a distant age (the Eighties) when it was one of three smart Indian restaurants in London - the other two were in Kensington: the Bombay Brasserie and the Star of India.

But time has a habit of moving on and other restaurants began to showcase the food of the subcontinent in a variety of interesting ways: Chutney Mary, Chor Bizarre, Tamarind, Vama and, of course, Zaika.

In the face of such competition, landmarks soon become institutions and not all of us want to eat in an institution. Besides, be-ing in Soho, there was a tendency for things to get a bit out of hand after a curry and a few flagons of Cobra beer: I cherish the memory of an attractive young woman dousing her breasts with postprandial Sambuca and setting fire to them as one of the highlights of my last visit to The Red Fort in its previous incarnation.

After such a display, I was not surprised to hear that The Red Fort had suffered a fire and closed for a refit - I would not have been shocked had I heard that customers had stripped naked and hurled themselves into blazing vats of Sambuca. It makes me rather nostalgic for the hedonism of the late Nineties.

Perhaps news of the pyrotechnic propensities of patrons of The Red Fort reached the Norwich Union, as it fell to disgraced MP Keith Vaz to settle a dispute between the owner of The Red Fort and the insurance company on the subject of a kitchen fire. Mr Vaz opted for the impressive surroundings of the Foreign Office to conduct his arbitration and, happily, the insurers settled the claim.

But perhaps it is in the light (excuse the pun) of this incident that there was no ignition of body parts on the Friday night that I visited The Red Fort. Instead, after picking our way through a Soho rather less infested with vomiting, urinating and brawling drunkards than usual, we were greeted with much formality and even given a lesson in etiquette by the stunning-looking greeter.

While our female companion disappeared to adjust her maquillage, I suggested to my co-diner that we go straight to our table, a suggestion which our greeter vetoed, branding it as the acme of bad manners.

Our little wait in the seating area gave me a chance to take in The Red Fort's new look. I could hardly recognise the old place. Its appearance now is perhaps best characterised as Mughal minimalist, complete with contemporary water feature dribbling down the back wall. The message is plain: this is a modern restaurant that serves Indian food, rather than a curry house. To reinforce the point, it even has its own basement drinking den called the Akbar with a one o'clock licence, a cocktail list, a bar manager formerly of Teatro and a menu of contemporary Indian snacks.

Also, the customers seemed to have moved up a notch. As we were shown to our table, we passed a table of Indian dudes dressed in black - one of whom was delivering an eloquent monologue on the wonders of Marbella. We were seated next to someone who looked suspiciously like Daniella Westbrook, and I did spend quite a bit of the evening trying to examine her septum.

However, as the food arrived, I lost interest in the nasal passages of my fellow diners and fell upon my dinner like a wolverine with a tapeworm. After a pretty pointless amuse gueule, a potato cake that I suspect is served only to ramp up The Red Fort's Michelin ambitions, the food was uniformly delicious and delicately prepared. A starter of monkfish was a delight: two chunks of smoked and seasoned fish that kicked off a banquet with which even the Mughal emperors would have been pleased.

If there is a criticism it is that the tandoor is perhaps over-exercised. However, it is far from indiscriminate as the ingredients lend themselves perfectly to this treatment, as a dish of tandoori jingha (jumbo prawns) demonstrated beautifully. And although not overlong, the menu does contain intriguing dishes such as the dum ka khargosh: rabbit steamed in a light stock, served with mustard, star anise and blueberry sauces.