Back in 2021, my hometown of Birmingham – or Brum, as we Brummies like to call it – made headlines when Tom Cruise’s BMW X7 was stolen while he was there filming scenes for the seventh installment of Mission Impossible.
On a brighter note, he also made local headlines following visits to Indian restaurant Asha’s, enjoying so many meals as to earn the nickname Tom ‘Two Tikkas’ Cruise.
Brummies aren’t usually bragging types, and even when we do it comes with a good side serving of self-deprecation. Having more canals than Venice is generally the most enduring – and endearing – boast, but it’s not strictly true, the city just has more miles of them (and they’re not quite as scenic). It’s also the setting of arguably the best British TV show of recent times, Peaky Blinders, but, alas, even that was predominantly filmed in other parts of England (and most of the accents are most certainly not very authentic).
Britain’s second city is, however, greener than its historical industrial reputation allows it credit for, boasting more trees than Paris (not sure who counted) and serving as the original inspiration for Tolkien’s Middle-earth (sorry, New Zealand. But you did do it better!). It’s also the hometown of one of Aotearoa’s favourite bands, UB40, and some say the birthplace of the balti curry (but that one’s up for debate, too); though without doubt, it is the curry capital of the UK – travel bible Rough Guides has listed eating a Birmingham balti as one of the 25 must-dos in Britian before you die.
Birmingham has long been one of the UK’s most diverse cities (the 2021 census revealed more than half the population to be made up of ethnic minorities, comprising 187 nationalities), and curry houses have been around since at least the mid-1940s when Bangladeshi immigrant Abdul Aziz began dishing up spiced meats and veggies with rice for professional types from a city centre cafe.
As for the humble balti, the Birmingham Balti Restaurant Association describes the home-cooking-inspired dish as “a British fusion of Kashmiri Pakistani recipes created in the 1970s by Birmingham’s new Mirpuri community” that first appeared in an area just southeast of the city centre that would eventually become known as the Balti Triangle owing to its abundance of curry houses.
No night out in the city is complete without someone uttering the immortal line “fancy a balti?” before it’s time to go home.
While there is no set balti ingredients list, there are some rules. Unlike the ghee and curry pastes used in much Indian cooking, a balti is made using vegetable oil, fresh ginger and garlic, and a selection of dry spices selected by the chef. The base is made from tomatoes or onions, and the meat (usually chicken or lamb) is also cooked off the bone. But most importantly, the meal must be cooked over a flame in a thinly pressed steel, flat bottomed ‘balti’ bowl (a bit like a mini wok) with two handles either side and offered to the diner, sizzling, in that same vessel, often beneath a sprinkling of coriander. The single portion serving is enjoyed with naan bread and is traditionally spiced at medium hot.
There is some dispute as to the true origins of the term balti. Some say that it’s a style of cooking that originated from the Baltistan region of Northern Pakistan. Others argue that it comes from the Urdu word for bucket, referencing the pot in which the dish is cooked and served. Andy Monro, author of The Essential Birmingham and Midlands Street Balti Guide and Going for Balti: The Story of Birmingham’s Signature Dish, simply describes the balti as “a Pakistani Brummie invention”.
Now such is its association with the city that in 2015, the ‘Birmingham balti’ was scheduled to be given protected name status by the EU – ranking it alongside the likes of Cornish pasties, champagne, and Parma ham – but Brexit put paid to that plan (Birmingham, ironically, did vote to leave the EU, by a margin of just 1%). Whatever its history, the dish – like those who created it – has long been well and truly embraced by Birmingham as its own, and no night out in the city is complete without someone uttering the immortal line “fancy a balti?” before it’s time to go home.
