Martabaan by Hemant Oberoi

Dining at Martabaan by Hemant Oberoi is not just a meal ,it is an experience. The combination of the exquisite food, superb service, and beautiful setting makes it a must-visit for anyone looking to indulge in a memorable culinary journey. The staff are attentive, knowledgeable, and genuinely passionate about ensuring that guests have a memorable experience. I highly recommend Martabaan to anyone seeking an exceptional dining experience. It you have a fazaa card, you will get 20% discount on the total bill amount.

Probably the best indian restaurant in the world. Staff very friendly providing efficient but discreet service. Nothing seems to be too much trouble. Some starters to die for. I have never had avocado and quinoa at an Indian restaurant... it turned out to be very refreshing on a hot day. Kursi chaat only time I have seen food on a chair. Chole accompanied with kulcha for main were out of this world Just one word of advice do NOT be tempted to over order as the portions are over generous. We found 1 dish shared between 2 people was just right. When is Hemant opening a restaurant in London. It's a long way for me to come from London !

Everything from grandiosely place , entrance to the palace until the meal and serving staff incredible, magnificent.

Martabaan by Hemant Oberoi is, on paper, everything you want in a high-end Indian restaurant. Hemant Oberoi, the man himself, is culinary royalty. You expect fireworks—layers of spices, textures that dance, aromas that seduce. What you don’t expect, though, is a restaurant that feels like a dentist’s waiting room lit by a thousand suns. Seriously, the lighting in there is so bright it makes the Sahara at noon look positively dusky. It’s not a restaurant. It’s an interrogation room. And what’s with the layout? Four booths awkwardly facing the corners, like they’ve been sent there to think about what they’ve done. Meanwhile, in the middle of the room, there’s a massive table for ten, just sitting there, empty, as if it’s expecting some kind of royal entourage that never arrives. Then came the food. We started with *Prawns on the Rocks*, which sounds intriguing until it lands in front of you. Six or seven prawns, nice enough, but plopped on a big white plate with all the fanfare of a deflated balloon. Imagine going to a Rolling Stones concert, and Mick Jagger shows up, sings “Satisfaction” for two minutes, then buggers off. That’s what this was. Where’s the rest? My lamb shank? Tasty, sure. But it was as if they’d sourced the smallest lamb in the world. This was no shank. This was a polite nod to a shank. You’ve got to wonder if the poor lamb was put out of its misery too soon, because there was barely enough meat on it to feed a small pigeon, let alone a hungry diner. And then, the pièce de résistance. The service. Or rather, the lack of it. They handed us a dessert menu, then proceeded to disappear into the ether. Maybe we were invisible. Maybe we weren’t the VIPs they were saving all their attention for. Either way, no one came back. No dessert, no coffee, no goodbye. Just a fading memory of what could have been. Martabaan is trying to be something it’s not. It’s trying to be a destination restaurant in a five-star hotel, but the truth is, I’ve had better Indian meals in dodgy Brick Lane joints, sitting under a flickering light, with sticky tables. The difference is, those meals had heart, soul, and a clear understanding of what they were supposed to be. Here? It’s all style, no substance, and even the style is questionable.