Aktar Islam does not do things by halves.
The chef behind Birmingham's two-Michelin-starred Opheem has spent the better part of a decade pushing British-Indian cooking into sharp, almost architectural territory. Tweezers. Emulsions. Precision plating. But when we sit down with him ahead of his long-awaited London debut, he is not talking about any of that. He is talking about the dum. The slow, sealed breath of the pot. The patience of the Awadhi khansamas who cooked for royalty two centuries ago. And, honestly, it sounds like exactly the kind of cooking the capital needs right now.
Oudh 1722 opened its doors on Union Street in Borough on 1 May, and while the address might be a stone's throw from the tourist thrum of the market, the sensibility could not be further removed. This is a restaurant that asks you to slow down. To share. To sit with a shorba, a warm, spiced broth traditionally served to welcome guests, and let the noise of the city dissolve behind you.
For Islam, this is a homecoming of sorts. Born and raised in Birmingham, he began cooking in his father's restaurant at thirteen, but his culinary compass has always pointed east, towards Lucknow, a city UNESCO recognises as a Creative City of Gastronomy and the spiritual heart of Awadhi cuisine. It is a style seldom given dedicated focus in the UK, and one that prizes perfume over punch, slow-cooked meats over quick-fire tandoors. The menu he has built explores that tradition in depth, drawing on the techniques, generosity and sense of hospitality that defined the Nawabi courts of Lucknow.
That philosophy plays out across a menu that moves from street-style naashta, the Gol Guppas, those fragile spheres filled with potatoes and sprouting mung, arrive with a tamarind water so tangy it cuts through the richness before you have even settled in, to the showstopping dum dishes that demand patience. The Muntanjan Dum Biryani, a sealed handi of oxtail, aged basmati, and sweet carrot, is cracked open tableside to release a plume of steam that carries the deep, savoury umami of bone that has been coaxed, not rushed. It is, in a word, theatrical. But the kind of theatre that feels earned.
Then there are the kebabs. The Gilawat Kebab, minced lamb shoulder so soft it barely holds its shape, is a textural marvel, a reminder that the best things in life require time, fat, and a gentle hand. It is not shouting for attention. It is murmuring.
Mind you, the man is not entirely abandoning his modernist instincts. The drinks programme, with its 300-strong bottle list, is quietly progressive, featuring small independent estates, old and new world, chosen with a sommelier's eye. But it is the cocktails that feel like Islam's secret weapon. The Sharma Chai, with its naan bread distillate and masala cordial, sounds absurd on paper. In the glass, it is savoury, complex, and utterly transportive. The Itr-e-Aam, meanwhile, channels the perfume of North India via sandalwood and curry-leaf brandy. It is challenging, sure. But so is the food. That is the point.
The interior, spread across three floors of a listed Victorian building, does not try to compete with the cooking. Designed by Polina Sychova in close collaboration with the chef, it is a contemporary meditation on Lucknow's garden culture: walnut timber, green-toned tiles, velvet upholstery that absorbs rather than reflects. Upstairs, the lounge loosens up, with a hand-painted ceiling that catches the eye. And scattered throughout are antique pieces sourced directly from Lucknow. They are not decorative nods. They are anchors, physical reminders that this is a cuisine with history, not just hype.
What strikes you, sitting there, is the sense of generosity. The Dawaat e Khas, the feasting-style tasting menu, is not a procession of tiny, precious plates. It is an invitation to commune, to pass dishes, to lose track of time. In a city obsessed with ticking boxes and chasing reservations, Oudh 1722 is quietly making the case for something else: the radical act of staying put.
And that, surely, is the ultimate luxury. Not the gold leaf or the caviar, but the permission to pause. To taste slowly. To remember why we came to the table in the first place.
Discover Oudh 1722 at 66 Union St, London SE1 1TD.