The many lives of Jimmy Spices

Dear readers — On Broad Street, perched atop a Wetherspoons, is a place that refuses to die. Many of you will be familiar with Jimmy Spices, the Midlands-born world cuisine buffet restaurant that threatened world domination in the noughties, expanding rapidly across the country before being curtailed by foes such as food hygiene officers and councils demanding the payment of business rates. Sadly, the Jimmy's empire is not what it once was, but in the city centre (and much to the astonishment of our newest writer, Jess) it lives on. Earlier this week we paid Jimmy's a visit, for a taste of the old magic.

Brum in Brief

📻 The Archers will no longer be recorded in Birmingham as BBC cuts have quashed plans to build a brand new studio for the show. The world’s oldest soap has been recorded here for all of its 75-year history and had been promised a space in the BBC West Midlands new home at the Tea Factory in Digbeth. That dream has ended, with the national corporation currently seeing through £500m of cuts. The show will continue to be produced in Brum but the BBC is looking for an existing studio in which to record the drama — anywhere in the country. Some staff are worried that splitting up the producers and actors will be a disaster. “It is going to weaken the show,” a source told the Guardian. “It will change the DNA of the show.” (The Guardian).

👶 One person taking the news especially hard is Birmingham Conservatives leader Cllr Robert Alden, whose crying voice (when he was a baby, naturally) was used for the character of Will Grundy. Now, Alden “wants his voice heard again,” or so the Tory press release that went out earlier this week says, as he calls for the show to stay put and support local jobs. He’s not the only one — Richard Parker is this week meeting with the BBC’s director general, Matt Brittin, to “discuss every available option to keep The Archers here”. What do you think? Let us know in the comments. 

🥪 Students at the University of Birmingham have gone viral after 60 ‘meal deal society’ members swarmed Selly Oak Sainsbury’s in search of the perfect sarnie and snack combo. “It’s so crazy,” Maya told the BBC, adding “we've got so many brands reaching out to us.”

The many lives of Jimmy Spices

“There is only one being that will remain forever as it was from the beginning, that is, it will remain unchanged for many years, and finally, after extinction, it will be born again in its original form.”  – Ovid, Metamorphoses. 

As all scholars of Roman poetry among you will be keenly aware, Ovid’s description of the self-devouring beast that beds in a nest of cinnamon, cassia bark and myrrh, is among the most resonant in all literary history. The story goes that having destroyed itself, a new creature of perfect likeness would rise from its burnt carcass, to live for 500 years before the cycle repeats. The nest of spices from which it would rise is both tomb and cradle. We refer of course to the phoenix. 

Myrrh has fallen out of favour in these parts, but if, starting at New Street station, you follow your nose towards the scent of cassia, you will be led to an ambrosial cave at the foot of Broad Street. It sits above a Wetherspoons and has a large neon sign that reads: Jimmy Spices. I'm here because I want to understand how this Midlands institution — which has suffered more blows than you could imagine — somehow survives to this day, here in the heart of the city.

Jimmy Spices has, to my mind, always existed. It first appeared in 2003, a little further down Broad Street from its current home. This author was not long past her first birthday at the time, so it's important to stress that my generation never truly lived in a pre-Jimmy’s world. But despite the eventual collapse of almost all branches of the chain, the Jimmy Spices brand rises from its fragrant nest again and again. This time the decor is teal. Its reputation in these parts now precedes itself, a brand recognised by all, despite the fact it flits between a seemingly unlimited rolodex of trading names (Jimmy’s World, Jimmy’s World Bar and Grill, Jimmy’s Bar, Jimmy’s Bar and Kitchen and so on). 

From its launch, Jimmy’s was an ambitious attempt to provide pretty much the entirety of global cuisine on a single plate, with low costs and almighty portions. Prior to the financial crash, you could feast for under 15 quid per person: All you can eat and everything you can think of in under two hours. 

Its buffet offerings spanned the continents: Italy, China, Mexico, South Asia and the Americas. There was palak paneer, but also nuggets and chips, and sambuca cocktails. Marketed as “global dining, your way”, the main selling point was basically that they accommodated for a degree of indulgence otherwise considered obscene by polite society, long before the Bottomless Brunch era commenced. Where else would it be acceptable to heap sag aloo on a slice of pepperoni, after eating a mountain of ice cream? It was greed, hubris and competitive plating that could sometimes lead to violence among strangers. Picture a middle-aged man elbowing aside an eight year boy at the chocolate fountain and you’ll have a decent idea of the Jimmy Spices experience. 

The rapid growth of the brand in the early noughties saw restaurants open in Sutton Coldfield, Solihull, and later, further afield in Derby, Brighton and Luton. Alike in more than name, Jimmy’s pretty much sprung up everywhere that was somewhere with a plot big enough for an open-plan commercial kitchen. They even opened at the O2 in London.

And then — piece by piece — it slowly seemed to disappear. 

A scan of old news reports from back then points to small matters such as hefty fines from food safety officers (take the £10,000 bill picked up by the Wimbledon brand in 2011 following mice infestation in a food storeroom) as part of the problem. Others suggest it simply attempted to expand too rapidly. But whatever it was, Jimmy's restaurants started biting the dust – threatening the entire operation. And so it was around this time the brains behind Jimmy Spices alighted on a clever strategy — one known in the business world as ‘phoenixing’. 

Essentially, its branches were split into an endless number of similarly-named limited companies, meaning if one failed another could immediately reopen, dodging various debt payments and facilitating the company’s famed endless rebirths. Phoenixing can be legal – if it's done through proper insolvency procedures. And it's certainly good news for those of us who enjoy a massive world buffet. But it's less good for the string of creditors (often local councils chasing unpaid business rates) left out of pocket. Following the unexplained closure of a branch in Watford, the Watford Observer reported totals of £639,000 owed in business rates to councils nationwide — including an unpaid bill of £200,000 in Brighton.

Then in 2014, two of the myriad companies (East and West Leisure Group Ltd and East and West Restaurants South Ltd) failed, with debts of £5 million. Restaurants in Solihull, Sutton and Central Birmingham muddled on though, until yet another company, called Peppercorn Leisure Ltd, went down in 2016, at which point the Sutton and Solihull sights bowed up, and the whole brand looked defeated. Jimmy's had flown too close to the sun and paid the price.

It was only a few weeks ago that I noticed the sign.

I’d been walking along Broad Street. Having spent most of my adulthood outside of Birmingham, the last I’d heard of Jimmy Spices was that the pandemic had delivered the final blow: forcing the closure of the Broad Street restaurant in 2021. But there it was — occupying a new site just a few doors down from the old one, above Wetherspoons. You’d be hard pressed to find a passer-by who assumed the upper half of Regency Wharf was inhabited. 

Jimmy’s has undoubtedly undergone a refresh in its latest iteration. For one thing, the plates are now 27 bloody pounds. For some reason, 10-year-old children are considered adults when it comes to paying. Gone are the deep reds and chilli-pepper adorned signage. In its place, a somewhat confusing branding: Illustrations of Victorian top hats, a gramophone and brass instruments decorate the new-look webpage. Inside the restaurant, muted teal as far as the eye can see. Perhaps this is inspired by the Bristol lounge-cafe style of marketing, showing diners they’re more than welcome to unwind and kick back at New Improved Jimmy’s. Provided they’re out well within their two hour time slot.

This obviously requires investigation, which is how I find myself at the bottom of Broad Street on a Friday night, navigating the Gentleman and Scholar (that’s the bar at the Regency Hyatt) in a bid to find the hidden portal that will lead me back to Elysium. Given the enormous signage, one would think locating may be a bit easier. But no, for some reason the entrance is actually through Jimmy’s Wild Bean Cafe – apparently of no relation to my Jimmy’s other than name, interior design and the shared entrance. From here you must ascend a lift (a teal lift, naturally), marked with an illustrated pointed finger.

The aroma is intoxicating – and demand is high. Upon entering I’m offered a drinks token by a woman who assumes me to be part of the 80-strong corporate group circling the bar. I’m initially taken aback by how different things are from the fragrant Disneyland I once knew: Plants sit on industrial styled shelving, wallpaper has a faux-brick pattern and there are framed renderings of the many cities from which the cuisine hails. It’s not until I spot the counter of sardines and prawns beading their lifeless eyes at me that I settle into the new look. 

The open kitchen is in full swing, flames roaring up to the ceiling from loaded woks and a rotation of pizzas flying onto the sides. I peruse the cocktail menu while I wait, noting an especially interesting addition: cookies and toasted marshmallow atop a base of sambuca and vanilla vodka. It’s designed for sharing, priced at £12.99 for a “playful, indulgent” experience. I suspect this may come under taking the piss out of company expenses, so I opt for less extravagance, though please get in touch if you have enjoyed a Toast & Toast. 

Besides, I’m not here to make merry. I wanted to know how Jimmy Spices has managed to bounce back yet again. To my luck, general manager Shefali Karulkar-Desai finds time to talk me through the latest reincarnation. 

“We moved here to focus on quality over quantity,” she remarks from a diner-style booth (which is of course teal). I’m not sure the loss in quantity is too noticeable, mind, given there are 10 curries lined up behind us. Shefali has a masters degree in culinary arts, and has been with Jimmy’s since 2017. They wanted the rebrand to “feel posh”, and move as far away from a cafeteria buffet as possible. My companion suggests it always felt posh – they had tablecloths. 

Despite complaints that options have dwindled, Shefali and her team rotate the menu every six weeks. Some of the chefs have been with the business for over 15 years, and the team procure fresh ingredients every morning, often locally. There is also a significant lack of dietary information available, but the animal-adverse are treated well — the salad bar is extensive. Generally, the offerings are appetising. Occasionally, a cold egg soup and vat of pink pulverised chicken (see above) suggests otherwise. 

If the souped-up interiors and branding led you to believe the squeaky-chaired appeal of yore is lost, let some further detail comfort you. A fruit machine gleams from the end of the bar, offering reprieve from gluttony in the form of an alternative deadly sin. If you don’t have your coin-purse, there is a handy ATM. 

What Shefali would not disclose to me was the names behind the new ownership team. Nor would she confirm when the current holders took over the business. The owners, operating under the name Resolute Phoenix Limited, were incorporated in January of 2022 – months after the move to Regency Wharf. Named fairly audaciously (given the company’s history), Resolute Phoenix has just one director. Whilst information on Kamaljit Singh Chohan is sparse, we know he owns a secondary licensed restaurant company – JWBC Limited – incorporated in March this year and connected to an address in the Jewellery Quarter. It’s not clear if he is connected to the original team behind the Jimmy Spices empire. Shefali said it would not be possible to talk with him or the team to confirm this, and appealed to me to keep the business name out of publication. 

In rising from its nest once, again this indefatigable phoenix might have shed a few feathers, but the fundamentals remain the same. For all its new touches, the cocktail glasses and the sofa seating, Jimmy’s is still very much Jimmy’s. Diners loom over stacked mountains of stir fry and pizza, with colourful umbrellas perched upon their drinks. They look exhausted and defeated, and with only minutes left on the clock, but such is the nature of this place I have no doubt they’ll return — if only to survey the desert station.

I bump into a friend on my way home, who looks almost hysterical as she exclaims: “No way is that still open.” Somewhere, somehow, it always will be, emerging time and time again from the ashes.

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