Don't Tell Aunty
Surry Hills’ rule-bending ‘unauthentic Indian’ joint, with playful cocktails and bottomless weekend brunch.
Overview
Surry Hills' creatively charged culinary hot-spot, the 'unauthentic Indian' restaurant Don't Tell Aunty, has been bending the rules of Sydney's Indian dining scene since 2018. Inspired by the welcoming homes of traditional (yet slightly eclectic) Indian aunties — complete with blue velvet banquettes and bright pink walls — the food here doesn't stick to the script. Instead, innovation is the hero, with the kitchen trading tradition for big, playful flavours.
The menu trips all across India, with touches of Aussie and American influence peppered throughout. Kick things off with the street eats: Happy Shots (Aunty's spiced, tangy welcome in a crisp puff), hibiscus-dusted papdi chaat and the crispy TSO cauliflower tossed in a sweet-sour Indo-Chinese sauce. Spotlight dishes include the yoghurt kebab and a biryani reimagined as a crunchy bite. The tandoor is turning out smoky tandoori chicken, mustard-marinated fish and Aussie lamb cutlets, while the pots cover everything from an 'unauthentic' butter chicken to a short rib korma in a cashew and saffron gravy — plus a whole vegan section, vegan butter chicken included. Can't decide? Three tasting menus ($78–$98 a head) each come with the signature thalis.
The bar leans into gin and mezcal. The namesake Don't Tell Aunty cocktail blends mezcal, tequila, beetroot, Aperol and agave, and there are barrel-aged negronis, a tequila Manhattan, gin and whisky flights, and a self-serve beer fridge. The wine list hops from Clare Valley riesling to Burgundy pinot, or you can BYO wine for $20 corkage per bottle. Watch retro Bollywood films flicker on the walls while you work through it all.
Lunch runs Friday to Sunday, and there's a bottomless brunch on those same days: two hours of wine and beer from $79 per person, with bottomless margaritas an extra $20. Head to Don't Tell Aunty for something different, but altogether fun and delicious.
Images: Supplied.
Like what you see? Subscribe to the Concrete Playground newsletter to get stories just like these straight to your inbox.
