Dipna Anand, a talented Indian chef, has opened a bright 90-seater restaurant in Milton Keynes. For so long, merely the phrase “Milton Keynes” was a punchline; this “new town’, established in 1967, was inhabited only by the spiritually adrift, depressed newlyweds and some cows made of concrete. Those days of mega-LOLs about the mighty MK may have passed, but there’s still something oddly futuristic about Unity Place, a new “destination for dining, work and leisure” just two minutes across a pedestrianised square from Milton Keynes station, and where Anand has set up shop selling her delicious Punjabi and south Indian menu with a smattering of modern British-Indian favourites. Yes, there are curries, biryani, thalis and small plates; yes, there’s black dal, Delhi wala makhani chicken, pillowy deep-fried bhatura bread, and gajar halwa – caramelised carrots – for pudding; but there are also dynamite wings, masala fries and chocolate brownies, if that’s your thing.
But what exactly is Unity Place? Well, having spent two hours there, then a further two hours reading its marketing bumf, I don’t know. Anand’s restaurant is certainly an elegant, welcoming space, but within a block that looks like The Office’s Wernham Hogg building. Then inside, things flip again: Unity Place’s main reception area is a gargantuan space reminiscent of Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall, except it’s not an art gallery. Then there are some lecture hall areas, a café by Santander the bank and, rather incongruously, a barbershop. This building is, apparently, an “accessible hub … seamlessly integrating sustainability and connectivity into its core”, while also “embodying a planet-first approach and fostering an environment of unity”. Perhaps this confusing definition is why I was alone as I wandered around Unity Place looking for my Sunday lunch, feeling like Cillian Murphy in 28 Days Later. The “urban food market” sounded fun, but that’s closed at weekends.
