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Uzbek Corner review: a taste of Uzbekistan in Bayswater

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The ‘exotic’ yet homely Central Asian restaurant hidden in Queensway Market

Although it’s not quite as common as it used to be, there’s a hoary old cliche found on restaurant menus across the land: ‘home cooked’. It’s obviously meant to evoke warm, fuzzy feelings of maternal coddling, but distilled onto a plate. Yet, at the risk of sounding unnecessarily ornery, contrarian or fuelling speculation about my dysfunctional parents, I don’t want ‘home cooked’ meals when I eat out. I want professionally-cooked meals, with all the finesse, consistency and technical skill that such cooking can bring.

While Uzbek Corner doesn’t deploy the dreaded phrase ‘home cooked’, the kitchen did conjure up an unexpected homeliness, without feeling at all cloying or twee. Tucked away in Queensway Market, which is also home to the superlative Normah’s, Uzbek Corner serves a handful of dishes from Uzbekistan and other parts of the former Soviet world.

Starters at Uzbek Corner

All of the starters at Uzbek Corner are single servings of soup. Mastava and moshurda turned out very similar to one another – thin and lightly moreish with a hearty mix of rice, bitty beef and plenty of veg lurking at the bottom of the bowl. Dollops of light sour cream and heaps of distinctive dill gave a refreshing edge to this hearty pair. The only thing that seemed to set the moshurda apart was the addition of mung beans, although they bought little to the proceedings worth talking about.

illustrative photo of the mastava at Uzbek Corner
According to Google Translate, ‘mastava’ means ‘awesome’. While that seems just too convenient, I’ll allow it.
illustrative photo of the moshurda at Uzbek Corner
Springy bread topped with sesame seeds, highly reminiscent of Turkish-style rounds, came with the soups.

A bowl of borscht was also light yet still characterful. Its gentle fruity sweetness was boosted by surprisingly delicate strands of julienned beetroot.

illustrative photo of the borscht at Uzbek Corner
Yes, I know borscht is broad, often contested territory. All I’m saying here is that I enjoyed this oddly non-tart borscht.

The consommé-like noxat shurva had its already potent fattiness enriched further by earthy, yielding hunks of lamb and softened chickpeas.

illustrative photo of the Noxat Shurva at Uzbek Corner
’Noxat shurva’ sounds like it should be the name of a Star Wars character.

Main courses at Uzbek Corner

Large grains of soft, well-separated rice were used in the plov. This dish’s sweetness and moreishness were helped along by the carbs and fatty lamb pieces respectively, while chickpeas brought a subtle nuttiness to the proceedings.

illustrative photo of the plov at Uzbek Corner
Plov my field.

Uzbek Corner apparently prepares their qozon kebab in a pressure cooker, although judging from other recipes, it’s more usually prepared in a large wok-style pan. So while it’s arguably more of a stew than the skewered roast jobby the ‘kebab’ name might have you think, that didn’t make it any less delicious. The lamb here was even more corpulent and tender then that used in the plov. It never became too overbearing though, as sharp onions and dill helped counterbalance the meaty richness. Carby reinforcements came in the form of floppy, thick-cut chips.

illustrative photo of the Qozon kebab at Uzbek Corner
Sadly, no one said ‘do you want chilli sauce with that, mate?’

Despite their swollen size, the almost gelatinous steamed skins of the manti were surprisingly fragile, prone to falling apart. This was worth bearing with though, given the fatty, tender and earthy cubes of lamb inside. In an echo of what had gone before, dill and sour cream were the refreshing counterpoints to the heartiness of the meat dumplings.

illustrative photo of the manti at Uzbek Corner
‘Manticore’ should be synonymous with ‘hardcore dumplings’ and not just a chimeric mythological creature.

The smaller ravioli-esque pelmeni were more structurally sound dumplings, although the overall experience wasn’t that different from the manti. The lamb inside was coarser yet still fatty, while our ol’ chums dill and sour cream popped up once again to play their parts.

illustrative photo of the pelmeni at Uzbek Corner
Although given dumplings’ border-crossing malleability, perhaps that makes the alt meaning of ‘manticore’ even more fitting than it already is.

Uzbek Corner’s somosas reminded me of a glazed, baked char siu bao, the kind one might find in dim sum. The layers of feathery soft then crisp pastry were texturally pleasing, breaking apart to reveal lamb, its plumpness and earthiness undiminished. My only wish was that the dipping/spooning sauce, provided on the side, had a stronger, spicier kick to its name.

illustrative photo of the somosas at Uzbek Corner
Or perhaps glazed, baked char siu bao are reminiscent of samosas.
illustrative photo of a cut-open somosa at Uzbek Corner
Partially devoured.

Uzbek Corner’s laghman was a more restrained and sedate dish compared to the Uyghur versions I’m more familiar with. The flat-sided udon-like noodles were a touch too soft, but at least the strips of lamb were predictably earthy. The thin soup was warming and tart, the latter quality enhanced by the presence of pickled vegetables which were reminiscent of Chinese-style preserved veg.

illustrative photo of the laghman at Uzbek Corner
Laghman. Not the hero we need, but the hero we deserve.

Side dishes and salads at Uzbek Corner

Chimchi, possibly an adaptation of kimchi given the presence of the Koryo-saram in Uzbekistan, was far milder and much more sedate than the versions from most of London’s South Korean restaurants. This heap of carrots, julienned and softened, was citrusy and tangy. But there wasn’t even a hint of spicy heat, making this chimchi a refreshing if ultimately unmemorable affair.

illustrative photo of the chimchi at Uzbek Corner
Carrot salad.

The olivye was, in effect, a lightly creamy potato salad. There were plenty of other ingredients thrown in too, from peas and carrots to chopped eggs and salami. The most prominent and plentiful of this grab bag was dill, giving it an outsized dominance. The vinegret salad was very similar to the olivye, but with noticeably less dill.

illustrative photo of the Olivye salad at Uzbek Corner
Oliv-no? On the contrary, Olivye.
illustrative photo of the vinegret salad at Uzbek Corner
Je ne vinegret rien.

Desserts at Uzbek Corner

A slice of ‘Honey cake’ had lightly sweet pastry layered in between alternating seams of a generic cream and the cake batter itself. The latter was moist and tightly crumbed to a reasonable degree.

illustrative photo of the Honey cake at Uzbek Corner
Not quite as sweet as honey. Although I guess that would depend on the honey that you prefer.

The most interesting thing about the Napoleon cake was its name. While moist and tightly crumbed, more or less, it possibly owed its malty character to a generous helping of brown sugar and cheap chocolate.

illustrative photo of the Napoleon cake at Uzbek Corner
Short stuff.

The Verdict

One of my dining companions, Norfolk Dumpling, described his affection for the food at Uzbek Corner as ‘nostalgia for something that I’ve just had for the first time.’ It’s a description I find curiously apt, perhaps because it draws in influences from Turkish and Uyghur cooking, among others. While I’d be surprised if its unambitious menu is the best version of Uzbek cooking to be found in London, its undemanding yet comfortingly competent homeliness is ultimately a virtue rather than a vice. Long may it continue.

What to order: The soups; plov; the dumplings

What to skip: Nothing was truly bad enough to be worth avoiding entirely

Name: Uzbek Corner

Address: 23-25 Queensway Market, Bayswater, London W2 4QJ

Phone: 020 3689 2683

Web: https://www.instagram.com/uzbekcorner/?hl=en

Opening Hours: 12.30-21.30, excluding Wednesdays and bank holidays. 

Reservations? Probably a good idea the closer you get to the weekend.

Average cost for one person including soft drinks: £30-35 approx.

Rating: ★★★★☆


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