Kolkata · London · New York

Maach

Whole fish · Brass plates · Bengali ceremony

The Kitchen

Every dish, a memory.

Scroll through the kitchen. Each tile is a course arriving at your table.

Close-up macro of mustard paste glistening on raw hilsa fish skin, deep yellow against silver scales

Shorshe paste — hand-ground each morning

"ইলিশ মাছের তেল, বাঙালির প্রাণ।"

Hilsa oil is the soul of the Bengali.

Wide shot of candlelit Bengali dining room with pendant lights strung from jute rope, warm amber glow

The dining room, Friday evening

11

Spices in every jhol

Turmeric-stained hands carefully wrapping whole fish in fresh banana leaf over open coals

Bhetki paturi — banana-leaf parcel over coals

Overhead shot of beaten brass thali plate with whole rui fish in mustard sauce, still steaming

Rui in mustard — slow-cooked 40 minutes

Caught. Not farmed.

Every fish sourced from trusted Bengali fisheries, arriving whole.

Mustard seeds crackling in smoking oil in a cast iron kadai, golden and fragrant

Panch phoron — the five-spice temper

"মাছে ভাতে বাঙালি।"

Fish and rice make a Bengali.

Hand-lettered Bengali proverb on aged paper with smoked banana leaf underneath, warm candlelight

Every dish carries a story

3

Generations of family recipes

Malai chingri — giant prawns in coconut cream sauce served in a copper bowl, rich and golden

Malai chingri — prawns in coconut cream

Warm candlelit dining room with pendant lights strung from reclaimed jute rope, guests sharing Bengali fish dishes on brass plates

Seats 42 · Open Fri–Sun

Our Room

Friday evenings, the room fills with the sound of brass on wood.

Pendant lights hang from reclaimed jute rope. Beaten brass plates arrive at the table still warm from the kitchen. The smell of mustard oil and turmeric settles into the room like a memory you didn't know you had.

"I hadn't tasted shorshe ilish like that since my mother's kitchen in Dhaka. I sat there for an hour after finishing."

— Priya Mukherjee, London

No shortcuts. No shortcuts.

The Menu

Three dishes that explain everything.

Not a menu. A progression. From the river to the brass plate.

Whole hilsa fish in golden mustard sauce on a beaten brass plate, still steaming, green chilli garnish
Signature

Shorshe Ilish

সর্ষে ইলিশ

Whole hilsa in hand-ground mustard sauce

The queen of Bengali fish. Hilsa sourced from the Padma river delta, cooked in a paste of yellow and black mustard, green chilli, and turmeric. Served whole on brass.

Giant tiger prawns in rich coconut cream sauce in a copper serving bowl, golden and fragrant
Chef's Obsession

Malai Chingri

মালাই চিংড়ি

Giant prawns in coconut cream

Tiger prawns from the Sundarbans, braised in fresh coconut milk with a whisper of cardamom and bay leaf. The dish that signals the meal is deepening.

Rohu fish pieces in amber yoghurt gravy in a clay handi, turmeric-stained and aromatic
Heritage

Doi Maach

দই মাছ

Rohu in spiced yoghurt gravy

Thick cuts of rui (rohu) marinated overnight in mustard-spiced yoghurt, then slow-cooked until the gravy turns amber. Your grandmother's Sunday dish.

Empty beaten brass thali plate wiped clean, a single smear of mustard sauce remaining, candlelight reflection

"থালা চেটে খাওয়া মানে রান্না সার্থক।"

"To lick the plate clean means the cooking was worthy." — Bengali proverb

The meal ends when the brass is clean. We consider that the only review that matters.

Come to the table

A Friday night ritual awaits.

The dining room holds 42. Tables fill by Wednesday. If you can smell the mustard from here, you already know.

Friday · Saturday · SundayDinner from 6:30 PM14 Brick Lane, London E1