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Hashmi Barbeque, Dubai restaurant review. “Where nyama choma meets the tandoor.”
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Hashmi Barbeque, Dubai restaurant review. "Where nyama choma meets the tandoor."
Uninvited Opinion. Elbows-on-the-table casual and finger-suckingly good. You’ll need to be rolled out the door.
The Highs
The Lows
The Highs
The Lows
If you sell spiced, slow-cooked meat singed lovingly over charcoal, you have my attention. You have all of my attention.
Hashmi Barbeque is a bone-gnawing, lip-licking restaurant occupying serious square footage in Al Barsha—an often-overlooked Dubai neighbourhood better known for cheap apartments and the unsolicited ‘business cards’ of scantily clad ladies surreptitiously tucked into your car window, usually the driver’s side, or so I am told.
Interior decor facing the kitchen at Hashmi Barbeque.
Hashmi Barbeque is a bone-gnawing, lip-licking restaurant occupying serious square footage in Al Barsha—an often-overlooked Dubai neighbourhood better known for cheap apartments and the unsolicited ‘business cards’ of scantily clad ladies surreptitiously tucked into your car window, usually the driver’s side, or so I am told.
Interior decor facing the kitchen at Hashmi Barbeque.
Hashmi Barbeque’s origins speak to East Africa’s long love affair with Indian spicing.
Hashmi Barbeque began life in Nairobi in 1978 as a family-run grill that exemplifies generations of cultural mingling in Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania.
East Africa’s nyama choma culture, which literally means “barbecue meat” in Kiswahili, also signifies social gatherings amid wisps of fat-laced smoke where meat, often goat or beef, is cooked patiently over wood, and eaten in groups around special occasions. A towering pile of nibbled clean bones is a measure of success.
Hashmi Barbeque grilled lamb chops, masala chips, chicken tikka and pilipili chips.
Then along came Indians—mostly Gujaratis—as traders (or labourers), resulting in the intertwining of East African tradition with Indian spicing. As the saying goes, someone else said it better, and as usual, that is Madhur Jaffrey; this time in her Ultimate Curry Bible:
Many Gujaratis, both Hindu and Muslin, travelled from India’s west coast to Kenya and Uganda… Unlike the Indians of South Africa who learned to speak English, those in Kenya mastered Swahili, giving many of their dishes Swahili names… Hindu and Muslim families here hold onto their traditional foods, but most dishes have been transformed to a degree by Africa and African produce.
Today’s plates reflect Nairobi’s long history of Indian Ocean trade and the generations of South Asian families who helped shape the city’s foodways.
East Africa’s nyama choma culture, which literally means “barbecue meat” in Kiswahili, also signifies social gatherings amid wisps of fat-laced smoke where meat, often goat or beef, is cooked patiently over wood, and eaten in groups around special occasions. A towering pile of nibbled clean bones is a measure of success.
Hashmi Barbeque grilled lamb chops, masala chips, chicken tikka and pilipili chips.
Then along came Indians—mostly Gujaratis—as traders (or labourers), resulting in the intertwining of East African tradition with Indian spicing. As the saying goes, someone else said it better, and as usual, that is Madhur Jaffrey; this time in her Ultimate Curry Bible:
Many Gujaratis, both Hindu and Muslin, travelled from India’s west coast to Kenya and Uganda… Unlike the Indians of South Africa who learned to speak English, those in Kenya mastered Swahili, giving many of their dishes Swahili names… Hindu and Muslim families here hold onto their traditional foods, but most dishes have been transformed to a degree by Africa and African produce.
Today’s plates reflect Nairobi’s long history of Indian Ocean trade and the generations of South Asian families who helped shape the city’s foodways.
This is not fine dining, nor is it spit-and-sawdust. It’s a roll-up-your-sleeves, eat-with-your-hands, suck-your-fingers kind of place.
Hashmi Barbeque’s interior
In a city obsessed with the newest thing, Hashmi continues strong today, having opened in Dubai in 2020 during a pandemic. Let it be a lesson to others: do a few things, but do them well.
The prodigious kitchen at Hashmi Barbeque.
Inside, the restaurant is vast, split into two dining sections; each large enough to be its own operation. Like nearby Sri Krishna Bhavan, Hashmi’s decor is best described as “Al Barsha opulent”: pseudo-parquet floors in alternating toffee and sand tones, goldish chandeliers compete with retina-widening LEDs, leatherette seating that refuses to commit to a single colour palette, and maroon tiles with faux-green marble framing a Perspex cage where chefs turn out chilli-lemon prawns, paneer tikka from the tandoor, and beef mishkaki—Kiswahili for “skewer”—roasted over charcoal.
The main dining room at Hashmi Barbeque, Al Barsha.
The menu is mercifully simple. Starters, mains (some with chips and rice, some without), chapatis, rolls and desserts, including a kulfi ice cream that doubles as a post-spice antacid. Prices are admirably restrained: the most expensive dish, fish tikka with a side, tops out at AED 130; the mutton samosas come in at AED 30.
A variety of complementary sauces, including a hot sauce, chooka sauce and tamarind sauce at Hashmi Barbeque.
Start there. The mutton samosas are properly bulging with minced, spiced lamb, and I mean bulging, with no daylight between the blistered, crispy manda wrapper and its meaty tenant.
Muttons samosas on a green plate at Hashmi Barbeque.
The chicken chooza—often claimed as Kenya’s national dish—arrives as a whole bird, slashed, marinated to a bright rust and scorched in the tandoor. It hits the nose before the plate lands: smoke, chilli heat and a citrussy tang. The chooza can lean a touch dry, so ask them to hold back slightly or drown the chicken in both the chooza and tamarind sauce that come as standard. Buy a bottle to take home.
Do not skip the lamb chops, roasted over coals until the fat renders and tightens around the bone. Utsensils be damned. Eat these tender lamb lollipops with your hands. Send in your teeth to scour the bone like a search party rescuing every morsel of spiced, scorched fat. It is food made for sharing, though it rarely is.
Grilled lamb chops at Hashmi Barbeque, Al Barsha.
A work colleague and I ordered a chicken tikka plate, which comes cubed off the skewer, and a half portion each of the pillipilli and masala fries. The latter is wet, glistening and sticky; the pilipili wears a dry rub. Luckily, we prefer different ones dredged in the additional sauces our server brings unprompted.
Oh, about the service. It’s fast, a smidge perfunctory, but always smiling as you smile back. And I am okay with that. This is not fine dining, nor is it spit-and-sawdust. It’s a roll-up-your-sleeves, eat-with-your-hands, suck-your-fingers kind of place. They bring plenty of napkins, if you’re boujis.
The Verdict: Hashmi capably satiates that primordial desire for marinated East African barbecue, leaving the likes of sanitised chains in its chilli-coated dust (you know the ones). It is affordable, fun, and comes into its own with large groups who share, dip and surrender to that tell-tale quiet stupour at the hand of good food. Hashmi is featured in my Dubai’s Best Restaurants Guide.
Masala chips at Hashmi Barbeque, Al Barsha.
Budget-conscious diners, fans of Indian or East African barbecue, lovers of tandoor and charcoal, or anyone looking for a compelling reason to spend more time in Al Barsha.
Number of visits: Four.
Dishes ordered (approx): 8 over the years. Boneless chicken tikka (AED 55); lamb chops (AED 95); half-plate masala or pili pili fries (AED 15); mutton samosas (AED 30); chicken chooza (AED 90); paneer tikka (AED 55); kulfi (AED 20).
Drinks: Bottled water. Hashmi Barbeque is unlicensed.
Total spend (last visit): AED 165 dirhams, including taxes, ex tips.
Hashmi Barbeque Restaurant, Ground Floor, Trio Building, Al Barsha 1, Al Barsha First, Al Barsha, Dubai, United Arab Emirates. For the latest information, visit Barbeque Restaurant’s website or its Instagram. +971 50 211 4473.
Written by Liam Collens // Read more reviews here.
Liam is a restaurant critic, food and travel writer based in the Middle East. He owns EatGoSee and contributes to other publications. You can find Liam on Substack, Threads, Instagram, BlueSky or Facebook. Liam is a restaurant critic, food and travel writer based in the Middle East. He owns EatGoSee and contributes to other publications. You can find Liam on Substack, Threads, Instagram, BlueSky or Facebook.
The prodigious kitchen at Hashmi Barbeque.
Inside, the restaurant is vast, split into two dining sections; each large enough to be its own operation. Like nearby Sri Krishna Bhavan, Hashmi’s decor is best described as “Al Barsha opulent”: pseudo-parquet floors in alternating toffee and sand tones, goldish chandeliers compete with retina-widening LEDs, leatherette seating that refuses to commit to a single colour palette, and maroon tiles with faux-green marble framing a Perspex cage where chefs turn out chilli-lemon prawns, paneer tikka from the tandoor, and beef mishkaki—Kiswahili for “skewer”—roasted over charcoal.
The main dining room at Hashmi Barbeque, Al Barsha.
Hashmi Barbeque, what’s on the menu?
The menu is mercifully simple. Starters, mains (some with chips and rice, some without), chapatis, rolls and desserts, including a kulfi ice cream that doubles as a post-spice antacid. Prices are admirably restrained: the most expensive dish, fish tikka with a side, tops out at AED 130; the mutton samosas come in at AED 30.
A variety of complementary sauces, including a hot sauce, chooka sauce and tamarind sauce at Hashmi Barbeque.
Start there. The mutton samosas are properly bulging with minced, spiced lamb, and I mean bulging, with no daylight between the blistered, crispy manda wrapper and its meaty tenant.
Muttons samosas on a green plate at Hashmi Barbeque.
The chicken chooza—often claimed as Kenya’s national dish—arrives as a whole bird, slashed, marinated to a bright rust and scorched in the tandoor. It hits the nose before the plate lands: smoke, chilli heat and a citrussy tang. The chooza can lean a touch dry, so ask them to hold back slightly or drown the chicken in both the chooza and tamarind sauce that come as standard. Buy a bottle to take home.
Do not skip the lamb chops, roasted over coals until the fat renders and tightens around the bone. Utsensils be damned. Eat these tender lamb lollipops with your hands. Send in your teeth to scour the bone like a search party rescuing every morsel of spiced, scorched fat. It is food made for sharing, though it rarely is.
Grilled lamb chops at Hashmi Barbeque, Al Barsha.
A work colleague and I ordered a chicken tikka plate, which comes cubed off the skewer, and a half portion each of the pillipilli and masala fries. The latter is wet, glistening and sticky; the pilipili wears a dry rub. Luckily, we prefer different ones dredged in the additional sauces our server brings unprompted.
Oh, about the service. It’s fast, a smidge perfunctory, but always smiling as you smile back. And I am okay with that. This is not fine dining, nor is it spit-and-sawdust. It’s a roll-up-your-sleeves, eat-with-your-hands, suck-your-fingers kind of place. They bring plenty of napkins, if you’re boujis.
Hashmi Barbeque, Would I Return?
The Verdict: Hashmi capably satiates that primordial desire for marinated East African barbecue, leaving the likes of sanitised chains in its chilli-coated dust (you know the ones). It is affordable, fun, and comes into its own with large groups who share, dip and surrender to that tell-tale quiet stupour at the hand of good food. Hashmi is featured in my Dubai’s Best Restaurants Guide.
Masala chips at Hashmi Barbeque, Al Barsha.
Hashmi Barbecue, Who Should Go?
Budget-conscious diners, fans of Indian or East African barbecue, lovers of tandoor and charcoal, or anyone looking for a compelling reason to spend more time in Al Barsha.
Hashmi Barbeque review information
Number of visits: Four.
Dishes ordered (approx): 8 over the years. Boneless chicken tikka (AED 55); lamb chops (AED 95); half-plate masala or pili pili fries (AED 15); mutton samosas (AED 30); chicken chooza (AED 90); paneer tikka (AED 55); kulfi (AED 20).
Drinks: Bottled water. Hashmi Barbeque is unlicensed.
Total spend (last visit): AED 165 dirhams, including taxes, ex tips.
Hashmi Barbeque Restaurant, Ground Floor, Trio Building, Al Barsha 1, Al Barsha First, Al Barsha, Dubai, United Arab Emirates. For the latest information, visit Barbeque Restaurant’s website or its Instagram. +971 50 211 4473.
Written by Liam Collens // Read more reviews here.
Liam is a restaurant critic, food and travel writer based in the Middle East. He owns EatGoSee and contributes to other publications. You can find Liam on Substack, Threads, Instagram, BlueSky or Facebook. Liam is a restaurant critic, food and travel writer based in the Middle East. He owns EatGoSee and contributes to other publications. You can find Liam on Substack, Threads, Instagram, BlueSky or Facebook.
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