Thikanaa, Southmead: 'The Indian chip butty I didn't know I needed'

Until now, you may not have thought of Southmead as a dinner destination, but change is afoot.

For those of you that haven’t been, let me paint a picture of Southmead.

Southmead, bless her, may be surrounded by relatively well-off friends Henleaze and Westbury-on-trym, but she is not doing so well.

Despite the whopping great hospital in her midst, Southmead’s average life expectancy is considerably lower than that of many other Bristolians, the likelihood of her living in poverty is higher and when people describe her they use words like ‘disengaged’ and ‘hard to reach’.

It’s not her fault. Southmead is the victim of bad planning and lack of investment. In fact, Southmead was quite the destination back in the day; a manor house with 13 acres of land. It’s very different now.

Southmead is full of ‘stroads’, which are dangerous and financially unproductive no-mans-lands somewhere between a street and a road - lined with shops, cafes and even the odd restaurant but also too wide and traffic-laden to be an enjoyable place to walk or spend any time.

It is on one of these stroads that we find Thikanaa.

My initial wince at the presence of the word ‘streatery’ on the sign outside dissipates very quickly once we’re inside. It’s tiny, the walls saturated with brightly coloured comic strip cut-outs and powerpoint-esque depictions of various cities in India. There’s something utterly reassuring about somewhere with objectively terrible interior design. It often means they’re too busy thinking about the food - which smells great.

Of the many foods we order, a few stand out as exceeding their aromatic promise. Vada Pav (£2) is possibly the cheapest sandwich in Bristol and also one of the best. It’s the Indian chip butty I didn’t know I needed. Soft, buttery spiced mashed potato with garlic chutney and green chilli squashed inside an alarmingly cheap-looking bun. I’ve never had a vada pav before, so I have nothing to compare this too, but I can’t stop thinking about it. And £2?! Absolute madness.

It looks dry but I assure you it wasn’t

My sadness at finishing the vada pav is satiated by the fact that we are now moving onto to a cheesy vada pav (£2.70), which surely must be even better. Sadly not the case - the 70p upgrade spent on a slice of shit American cheese must be one of the greatest markups in history. I shan’t be making that mistake again.

The worst upgrade in history

There are few things that are not improved by being fried, and the bread that accompanies arjit singh ke chole bhature ( £8) proves no exception. It completely surpasses the garlic naan (£2.50) that I insisted on ordering and the pilau rice (£3.50) doesn’t even get a look in. If it weren’t for the happy memory of the vada pav still lingering it would have cemented its place as best carb of the evening, a highly coveted position.

The chole was good, but the bread was fried perfection

A samosa is smothered by yoghurt, pomegranate seeds and tamarind to form samosa chole chat (£5) and a good one at that. Ordering the chicken lollipops ( £7) was my olive branch to the indo-chinese section on the back of the menu, and one that was sharply rescinded. Won’t be going there again.

This looks not dissimilar to a breakfast food, and I would eat it for breakfast. In my opinion the optimum breakfast is a small dinner.

Thikanaa special Kashmiri lamb rogan josh (£10) reminds me of some of the dates I’ve been on; two dimensional and lacking in depth but absolutely fine to share a table with for a brief while. Also, like many a Hinge profile, quite self-congratulatory - ‘special’ it was not.

Not so special lamb rogan josh. I have witnessed greater joshes.

I completely failed to check what the booze situation is like at Thikanaa. There wasn’t any advertised on the menu. It may well be a bring-your-own place but a return visit is required to confirm. Evidently I am in no way qualified to review restaurants. I shall cease trading immediately.

Actually scratch that, I haven’t finished.

Our total bill, including three soft drinks, came to £42.40 and my compadre took a substantial portion home for the following day. Such value is unheard of these days. To think that you could enjoy not one but TWO vada pavs for the same price as a minging supermarket meal deal. Perhaps less convenient, considering the trip to Southmead, but a million times more enjoyable.

Southmead may currently be something of an underdog, an unloved worry of a place, but if we can turn those stroads into bustling high streets and invite more places like Thikanaa to take root, it will be returned to its former glory once more.

Southmead awaits her turn patiently and Thikanaa may well be the spark to start the fire.

Thikanaa, 329 Southmead Road, BS10 5LW

Words and photos by Meg Houghton-Gilmour