The first thing that strikes the casual walk-in at Permit Room Cambridge isn’t the food or even the excellent cocktails. It’s the noise. Not an overwhelming din, but the happy, conversational hum of a room full of people who’ve settled merrily in for the evening and have absolutely no intention of rushing home. Well, that and the scent of incense curling through the atmosphere and whisking anyone who’s ever visited The Subcontinent straight back there in a heady sniff.
Part of the Dishoom family, Permit Room takes its inspiration from the drinking dens of post-Prohibition Bombay, yet it feels curiously at home among Cambridge’s honeyed colleges and medieval streets. On the boiling hot high summer evening we dropped by, the restaurant was positively humming – a testament to its eternal popularity in a city with no shortage of competition. Gaggles of young carousers were beginning their nights here, families were celebrating birthdays and friends were getting stuck in for what was clearly going to become a long evening.
The timing probably helped. We happened to arrive on the eve of Dishoom’s annual all-staff party in London, and the excitement was infectious. Spirits were unmistakably high, but not in the forced, corporate way that can sometimes accompany hospitality. Instead, the warmth was genuine, as though everyone working there genuinely wanted you to have as much fun as they were.
Much of that was thanks to our waiter, Loui, whose effortless charm deserves special mention. (Indeed, he tells us that few colleagues could be accused of diffidence). Knowledgeable and fun, he steered us confidently through the menu, gently nudging us towards some of his favourite dishes and cocktails, every recommendation landing perfectly. He even managed the near-impossible: winning over two fiercely loyal Oxford residents in the great Oxford-versus-Cambridge punting debate, though that might, of course, have been the Negronis talking.
The food arrived in a steady procession, making sharing irresistible. The Crispy Spinach Chaat remains one of the finest things Dishoom has ever created. Delicate shards of impossibly crisp spinach, cool yoghurt, sweet tamarind and fresh herbs somehow manage to be feather-light yet deeply satisfying, and it’s every bit as addictive as I remembered.
Alongside it came the Permit Room Fried Chicken: gloriously crisp golden bites dusted in fragrant podi masala and paired with a chilli chutney that begins politely before delivering a proper kick. It disappeared embarrassingly quickly.
The Garlic Pepper Prawns were another standout. Coated in a sticky soy-oyster glaze with plenty of garlic, chilli and enough cracked black pepper to announce itself from across the table, they had all the joyous excess of the best Indo-Chinese bar snacks. Meanwhile, the Onion Bhajias arrived exactly as they should: light, shatteringly crisp and served with a fresh green chutney that cut beautifully through the richness.
By the time the mains arrived, we’d already declared several dishes favourites like the easily swayed epicureans we are, but it was the Prawn Moilee stole the evening. Golden with turmeric and fragrant with curry leaves, ginger and coconut milk, it was soothing rather than fiery; the sort of deeply comforting South Indian curry that makes you dream of Keralan backwaters and lagoons. The prawns were wonderfully plump and sweet, while a pillowy garlic naan proved the perfect vehicle for ensuring not a drop of that silky sauce remained.
Was there room for dessert, enquired Loui, his smile so winning and the glories on offer so tempting that we could hardly refuse despite feeling unequal to the task after a marathon of feasting. Nevertheless we persisted – and we were very glad we did. The Coconut Caramel Custard had all the wobble and nostalgia of a perfect crème caramel, lifted with tropical coconut, while the Chocolate Brownie with malai managed the neat trick of feeling both indulgent and unexpectedly light, the cool dairy tempering the richness of the chocolate.
And yet, as any Permit Room aficionado knows, the cocktails deserve quite as much attention as the food here – and so, in the name of duty, we made our way through the always-enticing list. The Mangosteen Daiquiri was fresh and fragrant on a balmy night, arriving with a flourish of lime oil sprayed over the glass. The Chai Caffè Martini somehow balanced coffee, warming chai spices and banana-infused rum without becoming overly sweet, complete with a slice of banana to nibble between sips.
The Summerhouse Negroni offered a clever twist on the Italian classic, introducing the gentle fruitiness of northern Indian apples without sacrificing the familiar bittersweet backbone, while the New Permit Room Old Fashioned delivered exactly the kind of rich, slow-sipping complexity you’d hope for, thanks to coconut-washed bourbon, Pedro Ximénez sherry and Medjool date liqueur. We rounded things off with a Thums Up Sazerac, which, much like the restaurant itself, was playful, unexpected and impossible not to smile at.
What makes Permit Room feel different, though, isn’t just the cooking, excellent though it is. It’s the generosity of spirit that runs through the place. There is no sense of tables being hurried or drinks being upsold. Instead, there’s an easy confidence that encourages you to postpone thoughts of going home for a little while longer.
Cambridge has no shortage of beautiful places to eat, but few capture that elusive sense of fun quite so effortlessly. The food is generous, the cocktails inventive, the staff genuinely delighted you’re there. We have no doubt they had lashings of much-deserved fun at the annual shindig – after all, The Permit Room certainly knows how to nail the best party vibes.
The Permit Room, 17 Trinity Street, Cambridge CB2 1TB. For more information, including details of events, art on display, as well as other venues – and for bookings – please visit www.permitroom.co.uk.
