Inside the recently decorated Roz Ana, there are dark wooden floors, matching furniture, red feature walls, wall mirrors that create an illusion of depth, and hanging pendant lamps — it all feels like an ambitious nod to my own dining room (I kid you not). They describe themselves as serving “fine regional Indian cuisine” and are based at the foot of Kingston Hill, a leafy part of Surrey right on the cusp of the town centre. It’s a knowing nod to a stalwart high street restaurant that’s been doing its thing since 2008. It’s the kind of place where you can linger over cocktails and enjoy whisky-infused chicken tikka masala without any ducted ceilings – while being served by students working part-time to support their sports science studies. Well, that’s who served us, anyway.
Popadoms and chutney £3.25 – all standard stuff that could come from anywhere.
The asparagus in the asparagus and corn samosas £6.50 were cooked to the point of greying and served on piped tamarind and yogurt – the latter having no business being there. Still, they filled a hole after the long walk to get here.
From the appetisers, we went for the lamb chops – £9.95 for a pair – which arrived looking like they’d been read about in a cookbook rather than cooked over actual coals. Marinated in ginger, fenugreek, and yogurt, they promised spice and smoke but delivered all the drama of a damp dish cloth. The minty yogurt on the side was about as necessary as a cardigan in a sauna. Anaemic to the point of feeble, they looked like they had been gnawed on already before reaching our table. I mourned the ten pounds I’ll never see again.
Chicken Sixty Nine £6.95 arrived as spice-coated nuggets of chicken breast – cooked with green chillies and curry leaves, allegedly. The menu calls them “legendary,” though the only legend here is how they managed to remove every ounce of heat, flavour, and dignity from a dish that contains both chillies and curry leaves. Mercifully friendly to the spice-intolerant, tragically friendly to no one else. I regretted ordering it almost as soon as it hit the table.
Then came the Seafood Sampler £13.50 – a meaty tandoori king prawn, a coconut-crusted soft shell crab, and the satisfying crunch of amritsari fish. Each arrived with a dainty teaspoon of “corresponding” sauce, the kind that exists purely for Instagram and not for eating. We ditched the cutlery and went in with our hands – maximum nibblege, minimum pretence. The spicing was delicate but purposeful, and the whole plate was a towering leap in satisfaction compared to the lamentable lamb chops… though, to be fair, so would eating a packet of prawn cocktail crisps. Alright, I’ll stop bullying the chops – they wouldn’t survive the journey to my belly anyway.
The title “Rara Lamb” £12.95 is advertised as “diced lamb braised with lamb mince, onions, ginger, green chillies, tomatoes, and spices.” What we got tasted like something my uni mates used to knock up during drunken evenings – throwing a box of mince into a pot with tinned tomatoes and whatever Schwartz spices they could scavenge from the communal cupboard. We slumped and inhaled until our alcohol-flushed stomachs settled – a harsh reminder that my taste buds have moved on since then.
Things got markedly better with the Chicken Tikka Laphroaig Masala £11.95, a curry house favourite flambéed with a smoky single malt from the Isle of Islay. In its creamy orange sauce came a profound slap of umami, with hunks of tender chicken breast – this one disappeared quickly, and we found ourselves dredging our peshwari naan and rotis through the sauce.
Our shot of vitamins came with the vegetable porial £5, a mix of green beans, asparagus, snow peas and broccoli stir fried with coconut and Indian spices.
Roti’s £2.95 and peswari naan £3.95
A shout out goes to our cheery waitress who made the meal very entertaining!
Verdict
When did I go? March 2019
The damage: Expect to pay £55-65 per head with drinks
The good: Roz Ana is a restaurant of peaks and potholes. It lures you in with polished décor and the promise of “fine regional Indian cuisine,” but the ride is uneven. The samosas were a weary nod to sustenance, the lamb chops a pale tragedy, and the so-called legendary Chicken Sixty Nine a masterclass in how to declaw chillies. Then, just as you’re plotting your escape, the seafood platter struts in with crunch, subtle spice, and actual joy. The Rara Lamb yanks you back to flat-share cooking in the worst possible way, before the Chicken Tikka Laphroaig Masala sweeps in and redeems the evening with smoky theatre and sauce worth mopping up. It’s a place where, if you order wisely, you could have a fine night. Order poorly, and you’ll leave wondering why you didn’t just have a curry and a pint down the local.
The bad: Annoyingly, there was very little to enjoy here. I wanted to, I really did, but the whole experience just left me a bit sad. What we had lacked pep, that sumptuous hit of spice, that drum-thump joy of a truly good Indian food has.
Rating: 2/5
Would I go again? I can’t see myself popping here alone to indulge
Address: 4-8 Kingston Hill, Kingston upon Thames KT2 7NH
Web: https://roz-ana.com
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