Chourangi opened its doors on 7th October 2021, and since then it’s been quietly taking Londoners somewhere most of them have never been — into the lesser-known corners of Indian cooking, and above all into the food of Calcutta, a city with a heritage as rich and layered as its cuisine.
The name comes from Chowringhee, the oldest and most colourful quarter of Calcutta. It’s a fitting one, because the food here carries the same story that neighbourhood does — centuries of traders passing through and leaving something of themselves behind, until the local cooking became a thing entirely its own.
Behind it all are two friends. Anjan Chatterjee, a chef who became a restaurateur, and Aditya Ghosh, a lawyer who ended up in the airline business. The idea came to them over a meal in one of Anjan’s own restaurants a few years back. Anjan had long dreamed of putting Calcutta’s heritage cuisine on the world stage — and there’s really no better place to do that than London, the food capital of the world.
The menu is Anjan’s personal love letter to the city. The ingredients, the flavours, the old cooking methods — much of it traces straight back to his mother’s kitchen and his childhood in Calcutta. He’s sourced every ingredient himself, which tells you how much of him is in this place.
It seems to have struck a chord. In just over a year, Chourangi won The Diner’s Choice at the OpenTable Dining Awards 2022, and has been proud partners at events like the Jaipur Literature Festival and the Ray Film Festival, run by the British Film Institute — among others.
A Flawless Birthday Celebration – A True Hidden Gem! We opted for the non-vegetarian tasting menu to celebrate my partner’s birthday, and we were absolutely blown away. Every sing…A Flawless Birthday Celebration – A True Hidden Gem! We opted for the non-vegetarian tasting menu to celebrate my partner’s birthday, and we were absolutely blown away. Every single course was executed to absolute perfection. As someone who cannot handle very hot, spicy food, I am always a bit nervous with tasting menus—but this place handles spice beautifully. Every single dish was deeply packed with rich, complex flavors without leaving me choking on chili with watery eyes. I would highly recommend this restaurant to anyone who loves flavorful food but prefers to avoid intense heat. The Murgh Malai Tikka (tender, marinated chicken) was incredibly succulent and juicy. The absolute star of the show, however, was the lamb—a beautifully slow-cooked Lamb Shank Rogan Josh that literally fell off the bone into a rich, aromatic gravy. The side dishes were just as spectacular as the mains. The Baingan Bharta (smoky mini aubergine side dish) was packed with flavor, and the Dal Makhani (slow-cooked, creamy black lentils) was rich, comforting, and easily some of the best we’ve ever had. Unlike many tasting menus where you leave feeling hungry, the portions here were incredibly generous. My partner chose the wine pairing, and the restaurant did not skimp—the pours were wonderfully generous and beautifully matched to each course. To top off an already excellent evening, the staff brought out a surprise complimentary dessert with a birthday message, which was such a thoughtful, classy touch. The service throughout the night was seamless, attentive, and warm without being intrusive. This place is a magnificent little gem. We left extremely satisfied and will absolutely be returning!
Delicious meal and so flavorful. I had the Tiger Prawn Malai Curry which was served in a coconut and a side of rice and butter naan. I had a dessert (don’t recall the name) that we…Delicious meal and so flavorful. I had the Tiger Prawn Malai Curry which was served in a coconut and a side of rice and butter naan. I had a dessert (don’t recall the name) that were 2 dumplings in a creamy pistachio sauce- yummy!
There is something faintly perfect about eating Bengali food in London under the ghost of the old stock market. You walk past the plaque marking where the London stock exchange on…There is something faintly perfect about eating Bengali food in London under the ghost of the old stock market. You walk past the plaque marking where the London stock exchange once stood from 1282 to 1737, drift past Waterstones promising lifelong fascination, and then suddenly there it is: gondhoraj lime sitting on the table like an aristocrat who has somehow survived empire, Partition, socialism, immigration queues, Ryanair and globalisation with its perfume intact. London has always been a city of trade. Bengal understood early that trade is not only about ships, insurance, silver and ledgers. It is also about smell, taste memory and longing. Entire empires were financed because somebody somewhere became addicted to spice. At Chourangi in London, the gondhoraj appeared properly and proudly. Immediate respect. Bengalis treat gondhoraj with the reverence normally reserved for endangered manuscripts or retired professors. The kosha lamb was dark, slow and argumentative. The cutlets arrived with that reassuring crunch which says somebody’s grandmother would approve. Dal Makhni sat there like edible velvet. Then came brûlée and gulab jamun because modern Bengali dining now treats culinary borders the way Calcutta traffic treats lane markings: decorative suggestions at best. But I do have one serious Bengali grievance. Where was the basic macher jhol bhaat? You cannot invoke Bengali cuisine with solemn ceremony and then omit the dish that actually powers the civilisation. That is like: an Italian restaurant without pasta, a British pub without chips, or a hedge fund conference without somebody explaining why this time the macro cycle is different. Macher jhol bhaat is not merely food. It is infrastructure. Emotional liquidity provision. The culinary equivalent of returning home after being bullied by the world. And perhaps that is the paradox of diaspora cuisine. Restaurants abroad often elevate the celebratory dishes. Rich gravies. Club nostalgia. Slow cooked meats. The dishes that travel socially. But the everyday dishes, the rice, fish broth, alu bhaja, dal and green chilli combinations that sustained generations quietly disappear because they are considered too humble, too domestic, too specific. Which is a pity. Because sometimes the highest form of cuisine is not complexity. It is recognition. Every Bengali knows this: you judge a Bengali restaurant not by the theatrics, but by whether the macher jhol tastes like somebody’s mother is mildly disappointed in you. Fair exchange though. The old London stock market once financed the trade routes connecting Britain and Bengal. A few hundred years later Bengal returned the favour with kosha mangsho and gondhoraj. 🍛📚 #London #BengaliFood #Calcutta #FoodHistory #Diaspora #Restaurants #Culture #Hospitality #India #LondonLife #Food
Amazing cuisine with true ambience. We tried the Beetroot chop, Dal, Chicken and Paratha. Each one was delicious. A must try for anyone wishing for Kolkata and Bengali cuisines in …Amazing cuisine with true ambience. We tried the Beetroot chop, Dal, Chicken and Paratha. Each one was delicious. A must try for anyone wishing for Kolkata and Bengali cuisines in heart of London.
★★★★★ Best Bengali Food on Oxford Street Chourangi is a genuine find right in the heart of Oxford Street, authentic Bengali cooking in a spot you'd least expect it. The biriyani …★★★★★ Best Bengali Food on Oxford Street Chourangi is a genuine find right in the heart of Oxford Street, authentic Bengali cooking in a spot you'd least expect it. The biriyani is outstanding. Properly dum-cooked, fragrant basmati, tender meat, and spices that build without overwhelming, the real deal, not the usual curry-house version. Best biriyani I've had in not only London, but in entire Europe, hands down. Chicken rezala was equally impressive and so tasty. Service was friendly, the location unbeatable for anyone in central London. If you want authentic Bengali food done right, this is the place.
