Namaste Restaurant Hurstville

Milan Adhikari 2 months ago

I ordered a goat biryani and chicken momo for takeaway at night. By the time I got home and opened the food, I was shocked. The first thing I opened was the goat biryani—it had a horrible smell. When I put it on a plate and touched the meat, it was slimy and smelled it had gone bad. It was completely bad.I then opened the chicken momo and found a hair in it.how can they even sell those food?!!! This was a complete waste of money. The food quality and hygiene were extremely disappointing. Serving spoiled food and food with hair in it is such a carelessI won’t be ordering from here again.

Pranisha Tuladhar 2 months ago

Worst experience ever. A cockroach was found in my chicken chilli. This is completely unhygienic and unsafe.

Sumi Khadka 3 months ago

I have always been a loyal customer, and the convenient location makes it an easy choice for Lunch. However, my recent order of laphing and chicken chowmein was a bit disappointing, as both dishes lacked the flavour. The laphing used to be tasty. And I feel the chowmein could be more flavourful and delicious. The achar served with the chowmein needs a different taste as well.

Sid 3 months ago

Had a wonderful experience at Namaste Restaurant Hurstville in Sydney! The Nepalese food was absolutely delicious and full of authentic flavour. We tried the chicken curry with rice and absolutely loved it, perfectly cooked and very tasty. The staff were friendly and the atmosphere was welcoming. Highly recommend this place if you want to enjoy genuine Nepalese cuisine. 😃

Callum Cook 8 months ago

I skipped into this place with optimism in my heart and hunger in my soul. I strutted out later like a Shakespearean character who had just been betrayed by their closest friend… and also poisoned. Let’s talk about the biryani—because clearly, it wants attention. What arrived at my table was less “royal rice dish” and more “rice that has seen things.” The grains were confused. Some were soggy, some were crunchy, and none of them seemed to know why they were there. The spices? Allegedly present, though I suspect they RSVP’d “maybe” and never showed up. The meat was so dry it could have applied for a job as a paper towel. I chewed. I reflected. I questioned my life choices. And then—joyfully, disastrously—the samosa entered the scene. Reader, this samosa was a salt mine wrapped in disappointment. One bite and my taste buds aged ten years. It was aggressively over-salted, as if the kitchen was personally offended by the concept of subtlety. Somehow, despite escaping sogginess, it still managed to be deeply unpleasant—overwhelmingly salty, with each bite delivering a briny punch that lingered far too long. I reached for water. I reached for mercy. Neither came fast enough. By the e