Afghan Restaurant, Stapleton Road: 'A jewel in the rough'
Featuring a divisive yoghurt drink
I adore reading Jason’s writing — it’s so evocative. Restaurants like the one below will likely never be lauded in glossy magazines, national lists or guidebooks, but that does not mean they shouldn’t be celebrated. In fact, I see it as even more of a reason to write about them, and when it comes to spots like this, Jason is always happy to oblige. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did. Meg X
Ibrahim describes the trucks that trundle down Stapleton Road in the still hazy morning hours, holding up traffic with the peaceably languid air of a Pope visit. Carcass after carcass, these men dressed in red dole out their wares wholesale, to the numerous restaurants studding the banks of this culinary tributary; the central stitch in the fabric of suburban East Bristol’s food scene.
For as long as I’ve lived in Bristol, this road has been the main conduit by which I traverse it, or at the very least my jumping off point. So, the story that this buoyant restauranteur weaves for us chimes in harmonious resonance with my own vivid recollections of the same. On more than one occasion, stood before my boss, hat in hand, I blamed my lateness squarely on the butcher’s lorries and their trademark languorousness. Happy memories. And, to be perfectly clear, I would have it no other way.
To say that this area moves to its own rhythm would be an understatement. But it’s precisely this kind of chaotic un-preciseness that has kept me in the neighbourhood for so long. With each passing year, a community operates in continual defiance of expectation and structural adversity and I witness this wonder grow before me.
One of the newest additions to Stapleton Road’s cornucopia is Afghan Restaurant. True to its (prosaic) name, it boasts a menu of the quintessential Afghan delicacies you’d expect and some of my favourite things to eat, bar none. My housemate, similarly giddy at the prospect of feasting on Qābilī palaw and mantu, is a long-time frequenter of London’s much-celebrated Ariana II and is an all-round Afghan food zealot.
As we enter, the space is gleaming white and greetings are warm. Ibrahim commands the front of house with an effortless calm, I get the feeling he is at home here. And no wonder, for his father is the chef, making up the other half of this decidedly family affair. We share the dining room with two other large families, babies in high chairs having their food cut up for them by attendant parents.
The chapli kebab (£15) arrives first, two sauces, salad and a stack of flatbreads in tow. Ground lamb, spiced heavily with coriander seed and onion is then pressed flat on the grill. Brought to a toothsome crisp while still managing to melt in the mouth, this Pashtun variant of the skewered kebab’s name comes from the word for ‘sandal’; we’re informed gleefully. Thankfully, the obvious dimensions of it are where the similarities begin and end.
Sorry everyone, but if dumplings are to ever enter the chat, it will take me a solid five to realise that I’ve been the only one talking, so fervent is my adoration of them. Mantu are no exception. These (£9) come filled with lamb, typically drenched in a godly amount of garlic yoghurt, a lentil and tomato sauce, garnished with chickpeas and dried mint. I am a self-professed easy win here but even with the evident layers of finery, I must regretfully say that I am not completely bowled over by this particular iteration. These do the job but are not as flavoursome or juicy as I would expect.
The chicken achari (£9.50) is a crowd favourite. Cooked down in a spice paste, meant to mimic the flavour profile of traditional south Asian pickles with fennel seed, mustard, fenugreek, and nigella being at the fore. This dish is warm, comforting, and gone in minutes.
The aforementioned and much hyped Qābilī palaw (£15) is presented with a visual splendour that is undeniable. Slow-cooked lamb shank sat atop and lending its juices to a mountain of sweet rice, jewelled with carrots and raisins. Stoics say that comparison is the thief of joy and, being a food writer I’d be remiss if I didn’t state that this is a large part of the job, sadly. But it is true that I have eaten many forms of Qābilī palaw in my life and, although this stands above average, it certainly doesn’t take the top spot. Tender enough and suitably scorched, the lamb glistens with a prerequisite sheen of collagen and fat but when I think of comparable dishes at a similar price point in the Bristol area that shall remain nameless, consider my joy stolen.
The vegetable dishes however, come through shining. Loobia (£7) and bamia (£7), red kidney beans and okra, respectively, are perfectly balanced and sate even the most curmudgeonly of us diners. The split pea dal (£7) is all well tempered spice and rounds the meal off nicely. These three dishes are promptly inhaled.
A divisive palate cleanser comes in the form of the Afghan lassi (£2). Not as sour as some yoghurt based drinks such as ayran, which can be found in many of the west Asian grocers local to the area, the lassi is primarily Greek-style yoghurt, blitzed to high heaven with milk, ice, mint and salt. I have a deep affection for yoghurt drinks in all their forms and believe that, in the context of a hearty meal, nothing goes down better than the salted variety. Not all agree. Oh well.
Ibrahim and his father do much to inspire a convivial and warm atmosphere here at Afghan Restaurant and I will certainly be returning for a second helping at some point in the future. I can only put the few short-comings down to a set number of teething problems. In the meantime, I personally hope they can persevere and that the surrounding community can see what a jewel in the rough they have on their very doorstep.
All words and photos by Jason Jay Pridham
Afghan Restaurant, 390 Stapleton Rd, Easton, BS5 6NQ
The Bristol Sauce is an AI free publication — all our work is written and edited by humans.
 | A guest post by
|