‘Bricks’ always struck me as an odd moniker for a restaurant; making me think of stodgy, unpalatable food and, well, bricks. But of course this line of logic was self-defeating: I didn’t visit the restaurant and so never found out why they’d chosen the name in the first place, nor how good their eclectic multicuisine menu actually was. More on the m-word later.
As it turns out, Bricks is a lovingly restored Rana building, with most of its building blocks dating back to 1903. It makes for a cosy, warm dining experience, all exposed beams, Newari carvings and soft yellow lighting.
Traditional dances from all over Nepal were also performed at regular intervals throughout the evening, but not in the slightly intrusive, imposing manner you might expect in certain Thamel tourist joints. In fact, the dancers we saw focused their attention on just one group of diners, leaving us (not entirely unwillingly) in the lurch.
PICS: KZ
We opened with oyster mushroom choila (Rs 280) and buff sekuwa (Rs 260), in the spirit of the distinctly Newari atmosphere. They were great, especially the mushrooms, while the buff came served with a piquant pickle, redundant salad and bhuja.
Multicuisine menus in Nepal usually strike fear into the heart of a food critic, as they ordinarily result in a smorgasbord of mediocrity, perhaps with only one cuisine (the one the chef trained in) executed anything like well. I’m pleased to report, however, that Bricks did a pretty great job across the board.
I just returned from my hometown – known to many as the home of traditional English fish and chips (and the holiday home of heart disease, morbid obesity, and clothes that smell of chip fat), and so I was eager to try the offering here (Rs 450), made with bekhti fish.
The batter (thankfully no breadcrumbs here!) was perfect: light, crisp and golden brown, and the soft white fillets done to a turn. The menu advertises French fries as an accompaniment, but fear not, Britishers, these are proper, chunky chips. The accompanying attempt at tartar sauce was really just a herby mayonnaise, but I’m willing to overlook that if Kathmandu develops a taste for mushy peas. At that point, this’ll be one of the best home comfort dinners in town.
Next up was chicken lasagna (Rs 450), which boasted of béchamel but didn’t really deliver, and yet still, we loved it. Lasagne is too often let down by an abundance of sauce, but here the dish was served relatively dry, with minced chicken, which seems to me like a diplomatic choice: beef too alienating and expensive, buff too fatty and, well, just not as good.
Perhaps the only let-down was the palak paneer (Rs 210, rice Rs 85). The bright green sauce promised palak but delivered only garlic, rendering it a little two-dimensional for us. The chef (unaware he was under review) came out to chat, and when we asked what dessert was good, he proudly replied, “All of them!” but eventually relented, directing us toward apple pie with ice cream (Rs 250). There’s no inventiveness on the dessert menu, or in this particular dish, but there’s a reason it’s a reliable favourite from the trekking trail to the tourist trap.
Bricks Café rightly puts its ambience front-and-centre on its website and in its promotional materials, but take this review as reassurance that there’s more to the place than its décor; the food could stand up in 100 years too.
How to get there: From the Kupondole bus stand, head towards Pulchowk. Bricks Café is on your right-hand side, in all its restored splendour.