The Afghan restaurateur

Abdul Rahim bought The Afghan Restaurant in central London earlier this year. He thought of closing it in the wake of 11 September – but then something totally unexpected happened

When the bombing started, Abdul Rahim thought about closing his restaurant for a while, or at least changing the signs. The blue neon promises "Afghan Cuisine", and the awning tells anyone hunting for it in the back streets of Marylebone in central London that this is "The Afghan Restaurant". Mr Rahim's friends were worried. "I, too, was apprehensive that there would be a backlash. There were reports coming out of the US that Asians were being targeted on the streets."

Mr Rahim had bought the restaurant in March. He decided to take a chance. "You can't run away from doing business, out of fear," he says. "I always had faith in the civil society that we have in Britain: the sense of tolerance, the sense of compassion, the sense of history. So I dilly-dallied and . . . er, you'd be surprised what happened."

There have been no attacks, no threats, "not even a suggestion". Instead, something totally unexpected occurred. "The number of people coming in has doubled. The number of repeat customers has increased." The clientele are mainly "well-to-do English", he says. Almost everyone mentions the conflict. "People like to chat, and drop in a line or two of sympathy towards the Afghan people."

Mr Rahim is a big man who smokes Dunhill cigarettes while I eat ashak – pasta filled with leeks and served with minced lamb, yoghurt and naan bread. "My roots are in Afghanistan, but my family migrated to Pakistan in 1882," he explains. "My mother was a splendid cook of Afghan food."

Kohi lawangi is a shoulder of lamb roasted in its own juices which resembles the Greek kleftiko. It comes with kabuli pilaf, basmati rice mixed with sautéed sultanas, carrots and almonds. The menu describes this as a traditional dish from the Afghan mountains, but nothing so good will be eaten there this winter.

As the meal ends, Mr Rahim confesses that he bought the restaurant intending to change it to a tandoori, disposing of the Afghan theme and artefacts such as the ancient muskets on the walls. "I am having second thoughts. We were not doing very well, to be frank." He smiles, very well aware of the irony. "Now I feel hopeful."