16 June 2003
I went to Sainsbury's tonight to get a tub of Bisto Chicken Gravy Granules to make a chicken stew with.
They didn't have any, and so instead I picked up a jar of Patak's Korma sauce.
Before I started to make dinner, I sat down at the laptop to read the BBC News, and on browsing BBC Scotland's news page I discovered that Glasgow has been named Curry Capital of Britain for the second year running.
That coincidence alone made me smile.
Reading further, I realised that I've eaten in two of the four showcase restaurants (Mr Singh's India and Creme de la Creme) and can wholeheartedly recommend them.
Mr Singh's used to be the nearest good curry house to the office where I worked in Park Circus. Many a fantastic lunch out with the girls (or the team) was held there.
What set it apart from the rest? The fact that the male staff, although of Indian descent all proudly wore kilts. That, and the service was as fabulous as the food.
To this day I can't see the words "Chicken Dopiaza" on a menu without hearing the inimitable voice of one of my colleagues ringing through the air and assaulting those within earshot as she expressed her choice of cuisine.
I've only been to Creme de la Creme once. A major client was spending a couple of days in the office and the Divisional Manager decided that he was to be taken out and entertained. A curry was suggested and he readily agreed.
However, on the day, it seemed like less and less of a good idea.
It was one of the hottest days of that particular year, and the last thing anybody wanted was to eat spicy food, but still, we went.
The restaurant itself is in an old cinema, and they still use it as such, playing Bollywood films to entertain you while you dine. The upstairs level is generally used as a Buffet area, where it's all you can eat for a set price.
Although the food was utterly delicious, I really don't think we got the value we could have done in, say, the middle of December from the place as we were all so wilted by the heat.
Needless to say, the drinks bill was extortionate.
It has to be said that before dining in either of these places I wasn't much of a fan of Indian food, despite growing up living next door to an Indian family who regularly cooked meals that smelled thoroughly mouth-watering as the aroma wafted over the back fence. Nevertheless, as a result of dining in these places I developed a fondness for a really well cooked Chicken Korma.
When I first moved to London I was lucky enough to find somewhere that attained, nay, surpassed either of those two restaurants. The Sitara is far and away the best Indian food I have ever tasted. It also has a fantastic atmosphere - the owner is a real character and passionate about jazz and somehow, I now can't imagine eating Indian food to anything other than the best jazz available. In fact, it was so good and we were there so often that the owner of the place began to recognise us and know what we would typically order (me: 2 Poppadoms, Chicken Korma with Pilau Rice and a plain Naan, Mango Lassi and Diet Coke. Dave: 2 Poppadoms, Chicken somemthing-he-can't-remember-now-despite-eating-it-every-week with Pilau Rice and a Peshwari Naan, Mango Lassi and Cobra Beer).
It even got the seal of approval from Dave's stepdad, and that's quite something.
It always used to amuse me that if they ever ran out of anything in the kitchen one of them would disappear out the door and return a couple of minutes later with a blue carrier bag from the little shop down the road.
It wasn't until months later that we stopped off in this shop on the way home from a dinner at the Sitara and got talking to the cashier (who by then had got to know us on sight and would often chat to us) and he asked us where we'd been. When we said we'd been out at the Sitara he immediately exclaimed "Oh! You should have told me - I own half the restaurant and I'd have told Raj to give you some free food and maybe a bottle of wine". We made various noises about that being very generous of him but not necessary and he made us promise to tell him the next time we were going there so that he could make sure we would get some sort of bargain (as if it wasn't already good value for a night out!).
We were immediately touched by this, but never did take him up on the offer - it just would have seemed too strange and almost like taking advantage.
For all London is purported to be a cold and hostile place with no sense of community - I was actually sad when we moved away. It really felt nice to be walking down the street and have someone say hi and ask how you were in passing, or ask about where D was and how he was if we weren't together.
In fact, since moving away we've been back there with Dave's parents for a meal, and although we hadn't been in months, Raj recognised us immediately and asked where we'd been. I'm quite sure he gave us money off the bill too - because really, in London, a meal for 4 doesn't usually give you that much change from £50, especially when alcohol is involved.
... and all this because I got to like a good korma when I lived in Glasgow.
Funny how things work out, isn't it?
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