Mantra, Bladud Buildings, Bath

“Is that the roof of the Tramshed building?”

“It must be, yes. And that lovely little Corn Market house – doesn’t it look weird from here? Like a toy house that’s just been dumped there by a kid who got bored.”

“I remember when the Tramshed was the Ha! Ha! Bar”

“Stupid name, with the exclamation marks. Remember that lovely little Italian aperitivo place too – Yammo?”

“Yes! Wow, that was years ago. And it was called something else before that…”

When you’ve been living in a city that was established in Roman times and has repurposed buildings that were mostly built in the early 18^th century to create a thriving, modern mini-metropolis, everything used to be something else before it is whatever it is today – and when you’ve been living in that city for almost 30 years, you’ll have made plenty of your own “used to be…” memories too.

But on our most recent trip to the fascinating foodie haven that is Mantra, my whole perspective on the city that I think I know inside out was, quite literally, totally rebooted. There’s no other restaurant/bar terrace in town that offers views across the lesser-spotted cityscapes north-northeast of the city centre (those Walcot Street rooftops, for example) and the lush, pastoral environs beyond; the vista gave me such a fresh take on what I took to be familiarity that I felt as though I was on holiday, on my own doorstep.

I remember when 5 Bladud Buildings was home to the Clifton Sausage, and before that, the Cowshed; lots of us do. And that’s probably why, although Mantra opened its doors back in 2018, lots of people still refer to it as the ‘new’ Indian restaurant at the top of the lively George Street strip; in Bath, a restaurant needs to have been established for at least 10 years before we stop referring to it as new.

But perhaps, when a restaurant defines itself as specialising in ‘Progressive Indian Cuisine’, ‘new’ will always be woven into its, erm, mantra. And the menus certainly uphold that promise of progressive; the head honchos here are keen to point out, for example, that the word ‘curry’ is merely an oversimplification of Indian cuisine coined by the English – as result, you won’t find the c-word anywhere on the Mantra menu. What you will find is a collection of dishes that celebrate the diverse flavours, textures and styles of Indian sub-continent cuisine, with Punjabi-style saffron paneer or Amritsari Chickpeas immediately grabbing the attention and unexpected, unique combinations such as Mumbai-style Nachos and Gin-drizzled Char-Grilled King Prawns adding further fascination along the way.

It’s all beautifully explained without any hype or novelty to detract us from what’s clearly a confident, competent kitchen and, if yet another sunshine no-show puts that glorious terrace out-of-bounds, the restaurant’s brasserie-style street level dining rooms offer a cheerfully chic environment whatever the weather.

After cocktails, poppadums and dips, we started our Mantra merrymaking with cauliflower florets in a super-light batter and a sweet’n’sour-ish sauce, and a Chicken Tikka Dosa, Mantra’s dosas being a speciality of the house. If you’ve yet to familiarise yourself with the delights of what’s essentially a thin, savoury crepe made from ground rice and pulses, usually filled with all manner of spicy fillings and served with all manner of groovy little accompaniments (in this instance, coconut chutney and a super-aromatic sambar), it’s essential that you go Dosa here.

For mains – oh, be still my fluttering foodie heart! A chicken dish – sort of Hyderabadi/masala? – and a silky, complex, gently spicy Lamb Korai. But those descriptions don’t start – or finish – there. Super-fresh flavours, tantalising taste sensations: salt, spice, sweet; soft garlic, peppery heat. Fenugreek here, cloves over there, coriander, cumin and cinnamon all making their presence felt; subtly sensual, complex but gratifyingly congenial. Really? Yes, really – and accompanied by the softest, sweetest, freshest Peshwari I’ve ever encountered and billowing pillows of Pilau too.

By the time we’d finished our feast off with a creamy Kulfi and the kind of Gulab Jamun that guarantees you’ll never look at a boring British doughnut in the same way again, the sun was setting over that fascinating birds eye view and another summer night in Bath was coming to a close. But my memory bank had been completely rejigged, and a whole new page was set to be written in my Bath foodie diary: “Mantra is really exciting, but it’s all very accessible too,” I scrawled; “an intelligent, accomplished taste of the unexpected, if you like – and there’s nothing not like here.”

Next time you’re taking a trip down New Memory Lane, don’t forget to remember Mantra.