The biggest surprise at the Dubai branch of this storied Mumbai celebrity magnet, is how successfully owner Sudheer Bahl has been able to replicate the flavours of the original. This sounds easier than it is, as we’ve seen with the numerous restaurants around the city purporting to serve up a taste of home, and delivering biryani where the rice hasn’t picked up any of the spices, masala-fried fish that is neither as fresh nor as nuanced as it should be, or udupi-style sambhar that’s sweet but not spicy. Few brands have been able to make it without a stumble or two.

 

So it’s admirable that Khyber Dubai delivers so early in the game. Or maybe that’s necessity, with approximately 200 covers in total. The restaurant opened relatively quietly late last month at the Duke’s Dubai hotel on the Palm Jumeirah, and aims to cater to tourists and residents of New Dubai, in addition to people from around the UAE. Few of them will have been to the original, much less have any memories of brushing shoulders with A-list celebrities.

 

But Khyber might have a harder time impressing those who aren’t tripping down memory lane? Anyone expecting the new-wave so-called sort of progressive modern smoke-and-filler food that’s now standard fare at Indian restaurants across the emirates should be warned: You won’t get that at Khyber, as signalled by the classical ornate arches. Rather, the 60-dish menu hews closely to the traditional kebabs, dals and biryanis from the northern regions of the subcontinent, dishes that are now almost synonymous with Indian food in the popular imagination. Hint: the tandoor features heavily.

 

Our drinks arrive first, a bit of a relief for a Wednesday evening. Mine, a Rose Mojito, is an exquisite blend of mint, lemon and rose syrup — a perfect sundowner as we look out over the fronds of this always inspiring island. I quickly order a second, while my friend paces himself with a smoky grain-based beverage.

 

We start with the tandoor ka phool, a dish of mildly spiced broccoli and cauliflower, and reshmi kebab, chicken cooked in yoghurt and lightly fragrant spices. The broccoli wows us straightaway — it’s got a nice bite, and the flavours blend together beautifully. For our taste buds, the cauliflower is overwhelmed by the tandoori spices, while the gentle reshmi chicken could have done with a spritz of fresh lime.

 

Any disappointment disappears with a single bite of the coconut and coriander prawns, which is served as part of a seafood platter, but we’ve ordered on their own. Over hundreds of years, south Indians have perfected these very flavours, and I’m delighted that Khyber doesn’t disappoint. The prawns are just done, so they have a nice bite, and the coriander, tempered by the coconut, goes right through — we inhale them.

 

Then it’s time for the raan, which we eat with rotis (gluten-free for me!) and a little black dal. The dal is a little watery for my taste, but the raan… food dreams are made of this. Two versions are available — the signature and the tandoori. We went with the former. Cooked overnight with ginger, garlic and garam masala, a fragrant blend of rich spices that varies, it sends me into paroxysms of rapture. The spices form a silky blanket for the lamb, coming through gently but firmly to underscore the savoury flavours of the meat. Food may be mere chemistry, but Khyber’s raan is art. Perhaps now you’ll understand why I broke a cardinal food review rule and asked for a packing order — I couldn’t let even a morsel go to waste. Besides, I knew I’d want to relish its delectable goodness again and again.

 

After that, we didn’t want any dessert, but when pressed by the team, we capitulated. My friend went with gajar ka halwa, a classic Punjabi confection of carrots, milk solids and nuts, was rich and fragrant but thankfully not too rich, while I stayed with a sensible fruit platter.