Lasan, James Street, St Paul's Square, Birmingham, B3 1SD. T: 0121 212 3664
Verdict 9/10

It is painful, not to say embarrassing, when food writers take themselves too seriously, and for this reason the following declaration isn’t one I make lightly.

I have just eaten the finest Indian food I have ever had – and it happened in Birmingham, during three-and-a-half hours of undiluted dining pleasure.

Such a spell at the table would usually leave me feeling battle weary but if I’m completely honest I haven’t stop smiling. I have been lucky to eat one, two and three Michelin star food, usually due to the largesse of others, and on occasion I have stopped smiling, even after good meals, within seconds of chomping on the mignardises.

But it is now the morning after the night before and I am still smiling. It won’t surprise some of you to know that the reason for this is Lasan, more specifically the cooking of Aktar Islam.

A few weeks ago, I put two restaurants specialising in curry to the Aktar test. This followed outspoken comments by the chef that many Indian/Bengali restaurants were stinkers and Aktar’s judgment was partially justified. But what of the man himself? It dawned on me that I hadn’t actually reviewed Lasan for several years. Could this popular chef put his mahi machli where his mouth is?

Well, yes, Aktar can. And he does it to stunning effect.

Am I surprised that he has turned out to be quite as good as he is? Actually, I am. And here’s why.

All the evidence has suggested Aktar is a good professional chef. He has won Gordon Ramsay’s

F Word best local restaurant of the year and put in a storming performance this year on the BBC’s Great British Menu show. So far, so televisual.

I have gone on record as saying an Indian banquet I attended Lasan in 2009 was one of my culinary highlights of that year. I can still recall the hauntingly moreish lamb chops. It takes a lot to remember a lamb chop two years on but I can.

So why the shock at learning how good Aktar has now become? In all honesty (and I’m being frighteningly honest today – normal service will be resumed soon), I thought he had probably gone as far as he could. I don’t mean this unkindly. His food was good, bordering on very good, but I couldn’t see where it could go next, not that that particularly bothered me. I’m bored senseless with chefs trying to do fusion-style-Michelin-baiting food for the sake of it and would rather have the genuine article. I’ll take robustness over fey frailty any day.

I love spice in my curry but wondered if Aktar was prone to over-doing the heat. Perhaps this was indication of his temperament. The fieriest individuals aren’t always those with the greatest depth. Aktar is a strong character, relatively young and is rightly proud of his achievements. But such a bullish combination does not always lend itself to culinary improvement. It takes a stronger individual to learn the value of humility.

This, I believe, has been key to the development of this outstanding Brummie-born chef. He has listened to experienced, gifted chefs such as David Colcombe at Opus, Luke Tipping at Simpsons and Glynn Purnell. His knowledge of technique, texture and taste combinations – as well as – presentation has come on leaps and bounds. But these lessons have been learned without sacrificing the intuitive spark which is the hallmark of all good cooks, from the domestic range to the professional stove.

So what was the big deal about dinner at Lasan on a Sunday night? Well, the impromptu tasting menu for a start, devised by the chef on the spur of the moment.

It is reproduced here in full because it was nothing short of a triumph. Where does one start?

Let’s begin with the fish, which means we have to ponder produce. I don’t know how many times I’ve said it, but you get what you pay for, a truism that goes for the kitchen as much as the diner. You pay a few quid, you get slop. The meat and fish served in too many high street Indian restaurants – like many ethnic restaurants, English restaurants, Italian restaurants and French-Mongolian fusion restaurants – is average to poor. That’s not good enough.

Lasan is now using free-range Cornish lamb, free-range Scottish beef and wild, line-caught fish. It shows. The chop in a starter of tandoori-roasted “Afghani” lamb was meltingly gorgeous with sweet fat. The sea bass, served with a turmeric potatoes, was juicy and as pure as the Artics’ driven snow. This was a fantastic dish, a poshed up version of a traditional Bengali dinner with a knock-out tomato and coriander fish broth. (Note to chef: gets some spoons on the table – this broth needs slurping.)

The sauces throughout the meal were extremely good, fizzing with individuality and speaking of loving preparation, all lightness of touch.

We dined with our daughters and they loved the soft-shell crab, a variation of the dish Aktar cooked on the Great British Menu.

A seared-breast of duck, like the coriander-crusted lamb loin, was expertly cooked and rested. Like all the meats, it wasn’t slathered in a one-size-fits-all-sauce before presentation, a trick commonly used to conceal imperfections such as poor cooking. The 10-hour braised short rib of beef had a stunning Hyderabadi chana dhal.

Which course did I like best? I loved them all, for their own distinctive styles and flavour matches, but at the end of the day I would consider eloping with anyone capable of producing a goat biryani like this. Some chefs love signature dishes but I’m sure this wouldn’t be one because it’s probably not cheffy enough, not sexy enough. Don’t be deceived by looks alone. This biryani is high-grade edible eroticism. The memory of the cardamom and mace and the Lucknowi gravy makes me want to eat it all over again. Now. Today, and tomorrow.