Ah, The Tamil Prince: behold, the rise of the pub that is no longer a pub, but rather a pub-shaped restaurant that serves beer. We’ll see much of this over the coming years. The British didn’t fall out of love with the sights, sounds or shapes of their locals, but aimless boozing has certainly lost a place in our lives. “Eating is cheating” was the battle-cry of the 1990s barfly, which sounds so quaintly debauched today, when eating is the glue that bonds us and now, more than ever, the kitchen profits are keeping the lights on.
At the Tamil Prince (which used to be The Cuckoo), the bar is still intact and serving pints of, among others, Purity, Harbour and no-alcohol Lucky Saint, but they’ve painted the place a glorious, comforting shade of Farrow & Ball Studio Green, and turned it into a rather sleek, unofficial, south Indian reincarnation of the wildly admired Malaysian/Singaporean street-food joint Roti King. Prince Durairaj, the one-time executive chef at Roti King, is now creating joyful vibes midway up the Caledonian Road, offering flaky, soft, luscious rotis that are heavenly proof that God’s chosen carbohydrate is bread.
