I told Sophie we were going to have a great meal the second we walked through the doors of Bromsgroves latest restaurant, No.25. It was the smell drifting out from the expansive kitchen at the back of the room, the smell of spices being toasted off fresh for the evening to make various masalas and pastes. That unmistakable aroma of cardamom pods, coriander seeds, and cinnamon sticks meeting heat, to be ground-up fresh for service. There can’t be many more promising smells in life. She agreed when the poppadoms arrived, not because of the poppadoms themselves, but the little tray of chutneys. The mango chutney made that day from tempering the mango with spices and vinegar, and the baby onions, pickled and dressed with – and I am probably very wrong – a little pomegranate juice. But best, and staggeringly good, was the green chutney; coriander, mint, loads of green chilli, and a zip of lemon. It reminded me of the one Aktar makes when he scratches his streetfood itch, it’s that good. I tell them. We get more, and then more again when the starters arrive, though I stop at the idea of throwing it in my curry. When the tiny details are covered this well you know that the bigger parts will be even better. Spoiler alert. They were. No.25 is so good it made me consider moving to Bromsgrove.

The ambition to be way more than just a standard Indian curry house is obvious. After the poppadoms it’s an amuse bouche. That’s right, you read it correctly, an amuse bouche. One a delicately spiced pastry, another a spherefied ball of cucumber and tea to cleanse the palate. And then it’s the menu that showcases the chefs CV of Michelin stars, fancy hotels, western food and Indian food. I knew none of this until he came out to bring the mains. I was aware of him, he was aware of me. I am both nosey and brash, he is courteous and funny. What started as a comment from me about something that I felt was both misplaced and flawed, ended up being a far too long conversation about his style, background, and ethos. He asked if I would like to try one of the dishes that merge French technique with Indian spicing. I told him thanks, but I am very happy with a more traditional Indian meal.

The bit I questioned was on the assiette of kebabs, and if it means anything he agreed and said he’d take it off. You can see it for yourself, yoghurt caviar, nitro frozen which was cheffy but flawed because the second you put freezing cold onto hot it changes structure, in this case to a snotty white. Anyway, I digress, remember those kebabs, because they are about as good as they get. Chicken tikka, using proper free-range meat, none of this stained red nonsense, just great marinade and edges caught on the tandoor. Lamb sheekh, all black pepper and cumin, soft and almost pink in colour in the middle, as good as any sheekh you’ll ever eat, and prawns seemingly cooked for seconds so that the edges catch and the flesh just cooked, pungent with mustard seed. There is a little apple chutney hiding under leaves for those who crave freshness but it doesn’t need it. It just needs a squeeze of lemon and more of that green chutney. It’s eighteen pounds sterling, intended for two, but I wouldn’t blame anyone for boarding a train and just coming for this alone. In fact, I’d be impressed.

There is another starter I should mention given we ate it. Kolkata Singara Chaat, or samosa chaat if you need to break it down. Again excellent, I have the feeling they are making their own pastry given its light, almost chalky texture. Simple, but very well made.

To stop the hyperbole I’m trying to think of a negative to say about the mains, and the best I can come up with is this; the curry which comes with the biryani is not as good as the other curry. That’s it. The biryani itself is excellent; perfumed rice, soft cuts of lamb. Planned to take some home and ended up finishing the lot. The chicken chettinad was never coming home. It’s probably my favourite curry and this is quite possibly the best one I’ve ever eaten, possibly because it is where the chef is from, I later find out. More superb chicken in sauce that sings with fennel seeds and fresh curry leaf whilst still giving plenty of red chilli heat. It is the kind of food I get excited about all too easily because it is flavour and flavour alone. Writing this now, with a table booked for two nights’ time, I know that I will again turn down the rest of the menu to order this again.

I get sent a dessert which I’m not charged for, so please use any moral compass you want for this dish alone, but believe me when I say that a cardamom creme brûlée with shortbread is damright tasty and a really nice way to end a meal that surpassed all expectations. Bromsgrove doesn’t know how lucky it is to have this restaurant; put the kebabs in any pub in Birmingham and you have the best desi pub, stick those curries in any of the more expensive Indian restaurants and I’d be there every week. As it is, I’m quite happy with the twenty minute train journey. If they can remove some of the unnecessary flourishes and just focus on the flavours, it could be a very special restaurant indeed.

9/10