Showing posts sorted by relevance for query the legends. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query the legends. Sort by date Show all posts
REVIEW: I See You Baby ... Shaking That Asmaan
The Asmaan, Bath Street
The Time: August 27, 8pm
Booking Name: Mr Tinto Brass
The Pub Aforehand: The Iron Horse, West Nile Street
In Attendance: Trampy, The Tramp, The Gheezer, The Duke, Ravi Peshwari, The Bulldosa, Rumpole Of The Balti and visiting Foreign Curryspondent Makhni Knife
Decor: Due to all the scaffolding, it’s difficult to see the outside of The Asmaan at the moment, let alone the inside.
Expectations: Despite its evocative name, few Clubbers had ventured into The Asmaan, despite a ringing endorsement in the window from the Evening Times’ gumshoe restaurant critic, Diner Tec. So let’s say expectations were … fairly low.
The Experience:
Curry Club is like riding a bike: it’s good for the environment, you’re usually sweaty at the end of it and it’s prudent to wear a helmet, just in case. Also, hopefully, you never lose the knack of how to do it. That’s what Trampy was pinning his hopes on, hunched round a pint of Tennent’s in the back of The Iron Horse, one of Glasgow’s preeminent no-nonsense boozers, slap bang in the goddamn city centre.
As ever, he was worried that this might be the meeting where the wheels fell off the chuck wagon – TATTGOC legends like Rogan Josh Homme and Sir Spicy Lover had been early call-offs, and the teamsheet was looking a little thin. Worst of all, TATTGOC’s booming mascot and honourary life president The Tramp was ensnared in a punishing work schedule and might not make it at all. Combined with a lengthy summer sabbatical, it looked like the much-anticipated August meet-up might be more dusty death rattle than triumphant new chapter in TATTGOC’s bechequered history. Gazing at the remaining amber liquid in his glass, Trampy decided it was definitely half-empty, and vowed not to tan it so fast the next time.
If Trampy was subdued, his companion The Bulldosa – usually mercilessly mocked as the brotherhood’s most Machiavellian member, ever-scheming to consolidate his limited influence on the ruling council like a power-hungry Starscream – was keeping the tender flame alive by radiating anticipation and enthusiasm. Vitally, he’d also remembered to bring a camera. The Gheezer and Ravi Peshwari arrived promptly, and Trampy found himself slowly emerging from his worrisome funk. Then there was a vital phone call from The Tramp – beal or no beal? No beal, for he’d wriggled free of work and was mere minutes away. The Duke also strode in, looking eager for curry battle to be rejoined, followed closely by special guest and dedicated Foreign Curryspondent Makhni Knife.
Most dashing of all was Rumpole Of The Balti, looking like the young Michael McDonald in one of Cary Grant’s finest suits. It planted the seed of a terrible idea in Trampy’s mind: a future TATTGOC meet-up where everyone rocked their best clobber, the better to splash ghee and masala sauce on their exquisitely tailored sleeves. Would kilts be eligible? To be on the safe side, let’s say “no”. So, with seven TATTGOC veterans and one newbie in harness, the crew rode out of The Iron Horse toward their destination.
For once, there was a sort of logic behind the restaurant selection. TATTGOC began in Partick and has explored north, east, west and, particularly, south. But never has it met up in the city centre, despite that being a handy place for cosmopolitan currynauts to assemble. And if the the prime directive is to turn up hidden gems, Bath Street’s The Asmaan is undoubtedly shrouded in mystery, and lots and lots of scaffolding. The evocative name had also long tickled the Tramps, and would provide plenty of easy gags for the official report (at least, that was the plan).
The interior was the first surprise – a preponderance of mirrors and white furniture, fixtures and fittings combined with the warming glow of neon signage gave it the feel of a Balkan brothel, or the immediate aftermath of a P Diddy video shoot (possibly for the third single in an increasingly half-hearted album campaign). Booked under the symbolic name of Tinto Brass – the sensuous Italian filmmaker well-known, according to Wikipedia, for “accentuating women’s buttocks” – the Club was ushered to a table highlighted by streamers and balloons. (Ironically, it was actually the day of Rogan Josh Homme’s birthday but the gallant cinephile was celebrating in the far north of Scotland.) Could anyone have guessed that the soundtrack to our night would be wall-to-wall ABBA? Probably not, but these surprises are the spicy lifeblood of Curry Club.
No Cobra on tap, sadly, but The Asmaan had the next best thing: cool, foamy Tennent’s served in Cobra-branded glasses. Before long, the assembled Clubbers had fallen back into their regular groove, exchanging witticisms, observations and general “bant” like true gentlemen. It took The Tramp mere minutes to order up a round of poppadoms with all the trimmings, plus some mixed pakora and tandoori platters for starters. Our attentive waiter – dressed in a black shirt and patterned waistcoat that made him look like, variously, like a 1930s Chicago gangster at leisure, snooker’s dapperest nearly-man Tony Drago in his prime and a no-nonsense poker dealer on a Mississippi riverboat – rapidly twigged that this lot could be upsold without much effort, so our starter order was promptly taken up a notch, and a request for eight poppadoms multiplied into 15. To Trampy’s palate, these 'doms tasted more like shop-bought Sharwoods efforts – sub-doms? – the ones you see taking up lots of shelf-space in local mini-marts, always pre-smashed into a million pieces. Still, the accompaniments were tasty, and if the pakora was fairly boilerplate, the tandoori morsels of lamb and chicken more than made up for it: succulent and delicious. A promising start!
For TATTGOC virgin Makhni Knife, this calm before the storm of main courses was a chance to analyse how a proper Curry Club meet-up operates – having only experienced them through the wildly inaccurate write-ups, he was looking to the old hands for tiny clues about appropriate behaviour and etiquette. Unfortunately, since he was sat next to The Tramp, he naturally assumed bellowing and off-colour jokes were TATTGOC’s lingua franca. Makhni’s involvement had been the subject of some debate in the dog days of summer, since the whole freakin’ point of TATTGOC is to make those that have left Glasgow feel insanely jealous of the awesome time the rest of are having here. To that end, The Tramp – and, OK, Trampy a bit as well – had engaged in a two-month-long campaign of psy-ops, excluding Makhni Knife from any official communications and even withholding his official invite until the very last moment, the better to see the volatile Irishmen twitch on the end of their line, veering dangerously between puppyish enthusiasm and volcanic umbrage.
Before The Tramp embarked on a lengthy explanation and suggestive demonstration of an advanced courting technique known as “the Jocky Wilson” (memorable enough to make Trampy wish he had the technical skills to create a two-frame animated GIF of the demonstration, to use as an online avatar when frequenting websites of an adventurous but morally-dubious provenance), the traditional rice/naan equation had been diligently calculated. The answer, this time, was a relatively conservative three pilau rice and three naan (the usual loadout of plain, garlic and peshwari). With ABBA unapologetically ringing in our ears, and the few other patrons drifting out the door, this was starting to feel like a potentially legendary outing. Another round of drinks, please, Mr Tony Drago!
Oftentimes, even the most experienced Curry Clubbers can miscalculate how much they can consume, and after overindulging in starters find themselves struggling with their mains. The Asmaan appears to have found a way round that particular problem, by serving up their mains in sturdy but quite small metal dishes. While the aromas drifting up from the various masalas and acharis were tantalising in the extreme, the biggest cheer came when the naans hovered in like Harrier jumpjets – even bathed in the denaturalising neon light, the garlic naan appeared to be such an alarming shade of orange it triggered widespread disbelief, then admiration and, latterly, creeping fear. Demonstrating his inherent sharpness, Makhni Knife quickly dubbed it “Tommy Sherid-naan” to much ribald hooting. Then ... silence, as the various curries were hungrily put to the sword.
Trampy couldn’t remember another meet-up where so much of the scran was actually consumed – and perhaps a little more rice would have been appropriate, as The Tramp hoarded a rather oversize share down his end of the table, a bearded dragon curled up malevolently on his pilau gold. Something about the chintzy mirrors, blaring ABBA, neon signage and that electric orange naan also brought a slightly Twin Peaks vibe to the evening, heightened by a visit to the bathroom that revealed a spooky aerial forest of Magic Trees hanging from the roof, like a cheap, garage-bought mobile for a neglected child or yet another physical manifestation of a latent serial killer’s preternatural compulsions. Time, perhaps, to scarper.
So, after nine unbearable weeks of inactivity, the Curry Club was back in business. And by planting a flag right in the centre of Glasgow, phase two of TATTGOC could begin, a new campaign of monthly sorties into the unknown, swingballing around Glasgow and the surrounding area in search of the perfect curry, an evening so spicily sublime that it couldn't ever be recreated, not even by the most skilled wordsmith. There were moments of such transcendence during the Asmaan excursion – notably, The Bulldosa moodily modelling an improvised cock-and-balls in The Pot Still afterwards – but these divine moments, by their nature, are cruelly fleeting. That is what it means to live the curry life.
Range Of Drinks: Tennent’s … but served in Cobra glasses. Classy!
Highlights: Those tandoori starters, the balloons, the overall wigged-out "atmos".
Lowlights: Too much ABBA by half; main courses were a wee bit small.
The Verdict: A surprisingly pleasant city centre experience!
The Damage: £168.10 (tip: £7.90, and that was over and above the 10% service charge for parties of eight or more)
The Time: August 27, 8pmBooking Name: Mr Tinto Brass
The Pub Aforehand: The Iron Horse, West Nile Street
In Attendance: Trampy, The Tramp, The Gheezer, The Duke, Ravi Peshwari, The Bulldosa, Rumpole Of The Balti and visiting Foreign Curryspondent Makhni Knife
Decor: Due to all the scaffolding, it’s difficult to see the outside of The Asmaan at the moment, let alone the inside.
Expectations: Despite its evocative name, few Clubbers had ventured into The Asmaan, despite a ringing endorsement in the window from the Evening Times’ gumshoe restaurant critic, Diner Tec. So let’s say expectations were … fairly low.
The Experience:
Curry Club is like riding a bike: it’s good for the environment, you’re usually sweaty at the end of it and it’s prudent to wear a helmet, just in case. Also, hopefully, you never lose the knack of how to do it. That’s what Trampy was pinning his hopes on, hunched round a pint of Tennent’s in the back of The Iron Horse, one of Glasgow’s preeminent no-nonsense boozers, slap bang in the goddamn city centre.
As ever, he was worried that this might be the meeting where the wheels fell off the chuck wagon – TATTGOC legends like Rogan Josh Homme and Sir Spicy Lover had been early call-offs, and the teamsheet was looking a little thin. Worst of all, TATTGOC’s booming mascot and honourary life president The Tramp was ensnared in a punishing work schedule and might not make it at all. Combined with a lengthy summer sabbatical, it looked like the much-anticipated August meet-up might be more dusty death rattle than triumphant new chapter in TATTGOC’s bechequered history. Gazing at the remaining amber liquid in his glass, Trampy decided it was definitely half-empty, and vowed not to tan it so fast the next time.
If Trampy was subdued, his companion The Bulldosa – usually mercilessly mocked as the brotherhood’s most Machiavellian member, ever-scheming to consolidate his limited influence on the ruling council like a power-hungry Starscream – was keeping the tender flame alive by radiating anticipation and enthusiasm. Vitally, he’d also remembered to bring a camera. The Gheezer and Ravi Peshwari arrived promptly, and Trampy found himself slowly emerging from his worrisome funk. Then there was a vital phone call from The Tramp – beal or no beal? No beal, for he’d wriggled free of work and was mere minutes away. The Duke also strode in, looking eager for curry battle to be rejoined, followed closely by special guest and dedicated Foreign Curryspondent Makhni Knife.Most dashing of all was Rumpole Of The Balti, looking like the young Michael McDonald in one of Cary Grant’s finest suits. It planted the seed of a terrible idea in Trampy’s mind: a future TATTGOC meet-up where everyone rocked their best clobber, the better to splash ghee and masala sauce on their exquisitely tailored sleeves. Would kilts be eligible? To be on the safe side, let’s say “no”. So, with seven TATTGOC veterans and one newbie in harness, the crew rode out of The Iron Horse toward their destination.
For once, there was a sort of logic behind the restaurant selection. TATTGOC began in Partick and has explored north, east, west and, particularly, south. But never has it met up in the city centre, despite that being a handy place for cosmopolitan currynauts to assemble. And if the the prime directive is to turn up hidden gems, Bath Street’s The Asmaan is undoubtedly shrouded in mystery, and lots and lots of scaffolding. The evocative name had also long tickled the Tramps, and would provide plenty of easy gags for the official report (at least, that was the plan).
The interior was the first surprise – a preponderance of mirrors and white furniture, fixtures and fittings combined with the warming glow of neon signage gave it the feel of a Balkan brothel, or the immediate aftermath of a P Diddy video shoot (possibly for the third single in an increasingly half-hearted album campaign). Booked under the symbolic name of Tinto Brass – the sensuous Italian filmmaker well-known, according to Wikipedia, for “accentuating women’s buttocks” – the Club was ushered to a table highlighted by streamers and balloons. (Ironically, it was actually the day of Rogan Josh Homme’s birthday but the gallant cinephile was celebrating in the far north of Scotland.) Could anyone have guessed that the soundtrack to our night would be wall-to-wall ABBA? Probably not, but these surprises are the spicy lifeblood of Curry Club.
No Cobra on tap, sadly, but The Asmaan had the next best thing: cool, foamy Tennent’s served in Cobra-branded glasses. Before long, the assembled Clubbers had fallen back into their regular groove, exchanging witticisms, observations and general “bant” like true gentlemen. It took The Tramp mere minutes to order up a round of poppadoms with all the trimmings, plus some mixed pakora and tandoori platters for starters. Our attentive waiter – dressed in a black shirt and patterned waistcoat that made him look like, variously, like a 1930s Chicago gangster at leisure, snooker’s dapperest nearly-man Tony Drago in his prime and a no-nonsense poker dealer on a Mississippi riverboat – rapidly twigged that this lot could be upsold without much effort, so our starter order was promptly taken up a notch, and a request for eight poppadoms multiplied into 15. To Trampy’s palate, these 'doms tasted more like shop-bought Sharwoods efforts – sub-doms? – the ones you see taking up lots of shelf-space in local mini-marts, always pre-smashed into a million pieces. Still, the accompaniments were tasty, and if the pakora was fairly boilerplate, the tandoori morsels of lamb and chicken more than made up for it: succulent and delicious. A promising start!
For TATTGOC virgin Makhni Knife, this calm before the storm of main courses was a chance to analyse how a proper Curry Club meet-up operates – having only experienced them through the wildly inaccurate write-ups, he was looking to the old hands for tiny clues about appropriate behaviour and etiquette. Unfortunately, since he was sat next to The Tramp, he naturally assumed bellowing and off-colour jokes were TATTGOC’s lingua franca. Makhni’s involvement had been the subject of some debate in the dog days of summer, since the whole freakin’ point of TATTGOC is to make those that have left Glasgow feel insanely jealous of the awesome time the rest of are having here. To that end, The Tramp – and, OK, Trampy a bit as well – had engaged in a two-month-long campaign of psy-ops, excluding Makhni Knife from any official communications and even withholding his official invite until the very last moment, the better to see the volatile Irishmen twitch on the end of their line, veering dangerously between puppyish enthusiasm and volcanic umbrage.
Before The Tramp embarked on a lengthy explanation and suggestive demonstration of an advanced courting technique known as “the Jocky Wilson” (memorable enough to make Trampy wish he had the technical skills to create a two-frame animated GIF of the demonstration, to use as an online avatar when frequenting websites of an adventurous but morally-dubious provenance), the traditional rice/naan equation had been diligently calculated. The answer, this time, was a relatively conservative three pilau rice and three naan (the usual loadout of plain, garlic and peshwari). With ABBA unapologetically ringing in our ears, and the few other patrons drifting out the door, this was starting to feel like a potentially legendary outing. Another round of drinks, please, Mr Tony Drago!
Oftentimes, even the most experienced Curry Clubbers can miscalculate how much they can consume, and after overindulging in starters find themselves struggling with their mains. The Asmaan appears to have found a way round that particular problem, by serving up their mains in sturdy but quite small metal dishes. While the aromas drifting up from the various masalas and acharis were tantalising in the extreme, the biggest cheer came when the naans hovered in like Harrier jumpjets – even bathed in the denaturalising neon light, the garlic naan appeared to be such an alarming shade of orange it triggered widespread disbelief, then admiration and, latterly, creeping fear. Demonstrating his inherent sharpness, Makhni Knife quickly dubbed it “Tommy Sherid-naan” to much ribald hooting. Then ... silence, as the various curries were hungrily put to the sword.Trampy couldn’t remember another meet-up where so much of the scran was actually consumed – and perhaps a little more rice would have been appropriate, as The Tramp hoarded a rather oversize share down his end of the table, a bearded dragon curled up malevolently on his pilau gold. Something about the chintzy mirrors, blaring ABBA, neon signage and that electric orange naan also brought a slightly Twin Peaks vibe to the evening, heightened by a visit to the bathroom that revealed a spooky aerial forest of Magic Trees hanging from the roof, like a cheap, garage-bought mobile for a neglected child or yet another physical manifestation of a latent serial killer’s preternatural compulsions. Time, perhaps, to scarper.
So, after nine unbearable weeks of inactivity, the Curry Club was back in business. And by planting a flag right in the centre of Glasgow, phase two of TATTGOC could begin, a new campaign of monthly sorties into the unknown, swingballing around Glasgow and the surrounding area in search of the perfect curry, an evening so spicily sublime that it couldn't ever be recreated, not even by the most skilled wordsmith. There were moments of such transcendence during the Asmaan excursion – notably, The Bulldosa moodily modelling an improvised cock-and-balls in The Pot Still afterwards – but these divine moments, by their nature, are cruelly fleeting. That is what it means to live the curry life.
Range Of Drinks: Tennent’s … but served in Cobra glasses. Classy!
Highlights: Those tandoori starters, the balloons, the overall wigged-out "atmos".Lowlights: Too much ABBA by half; main courses were a wee bit small.
The Verdict: A surprisingly pleasant city centre experience!
The Damage: £168.10 (tip: £7.90, and that was over and above the 10% service charge for parties of eight or more)
REVIEW: Punjabs For The Boys
Punjabi, Paisley Road West
The Time: April 21, 8.15pm
Booking Name: Greg Baker!
The Pub Aforehand: The 78, Kelvinhaugh Street
In Attendance: Trampy, The Tramp, The Bulldosa, The Duke, The Gheezer, Sir Spicy Lover and – receiving his first TATTGOC cap – Bobo Balti.
Décor: Very black frontage with a big neon sign, but cosy inside, with intriguing art on the walls and an elaborate roof that is among the best TATTGOC has experienced.
Expectations: The Punjabi came recommended by a good friend who said the venerable restaurant and takeaway had been there “forever”. After a few experiences where restaurants have been targeted, just to close when TATTGOC hoves into view, the Punjabi always felt like a keeper.
The Experience:
What’s the opposite of serendipity? That’s what the Tramps found themselves wondering after a rollercoaster week in the run-up to the April/Easter TATTGOC outing. After cutting about the west end for the past few expeditions, it was decided that it was time for the Curry Club to take those broken wings and learn to fly again to Southie (which is what we would call the Southside if we were Boston crime writer Dennis Lehane. Southie! It sounds cool! Southie!) The last time the TATTGOC faithful assembled south of the mighty Clyde it was to cart a crate of Kingfisher to The Viceroy, which was a pretty pleasant evening all round according to this field report. (And Kabana doesn't technically count since it was delivered.)
(Click here to read more ...)
The Time: April 21, 8.15pm Booking Name: Greg Baker!
The Pub Aforehand: The 78, Kelvinhaugh Street
In Attendance: Trampy, The Tramp, The Bulldosa, The Duke, The Gheezer, Sir Spicy Lover and – receiving his first TATTGOC cap – Bobo Balti.
Décor: Very black frontage with a big neon sign, but cosy inside, with intriguing art on the walls and an elaborate roof that is among the best TATTGOC has experienced.
Expectations: The Punjabi came recommended by a good friend who said the venerable restaurant and takeaway had been there “forever”. After a few experiences where restaurants have been targeted, just to close when TATTGOC hoves into view, the Punjabi always felt like a keeper.
The Experience:
What’s the opposite of serendipity? That’s what the Tramps found themselves wondering after a rollercoaster week in the run-up to the April/Easter TATTGOC outing. After cutting about the west end for the past few expeditions, it was decided that it was time for the Curry Club to take those broken wings and learn to fly again to Southie (which is what we would call the Southside if we were Boston crime writer Dennis Lehane. Southie! It sounds cool! Southie!) The last time the TATTGOC faithful assembled south of the mighty Clyde it was to cart a crate of Kingfisher to The Viceroy, which was a pretty pleasant evening all round according to this field report. (And Kabana doesn't technically count since it was delivered.)
(Click here to read more ...)
REVIEW: Of Vice And Men
The Viceroy, Paisley Road
The Time: September 30, 8pm
Booking Name: None required.
The Pub Aforehand: The Old Toll Bar, Paisley Road West
In Attendance: Trampy, The Tramp, The Bulldosa, Rabbie Shankar, Sir Spicy Lover and Ravi Peshwari
Decor: Just a couple of doors down from the legendary Grand Ole Opry, The Viceroy boasts classic signage that makes it look like burnished part of Glasgow’s rich curry heritage; inside, it’s bright and notably spotless, with a compact buffet station in one corner and tasteful art prints on its neutral walls.
Expectations: With no Curry Clubber claiming previous experience of The Viceroy, and a surprising lack of information about the establishment available online, this was truly to be a journey into the unknown.
The Experience:
With almost two years of curry safari under their straining belts, the Tramps have spent a considerable amount of time grappling with the rice/naan equation. But what’s the golden ratio for TATTGOC itself? Some months the membership expands to more than a dozen, with an attendant ruckus you can probably imagine. For other outings, natural shrinkage asserts itself, bringing the numbers down to more biddable levels. So is there a perfect headcount? Turns out six ain’t bad – instead of various rambling, shouty, divergent debates raging around a sauce-spattered, rice-scattered table, there can be just one Big Conversation ... albeit a rambling, shouty, divergent one.
Six souls: that was the scenario being silently considered by the Tramps in the appealing environs of The Old Toll Bar. For this was September’s official TATTGOC outing, squeaking in under the wire at the very end of the month. When you’ve spent as much time together as the Tramps, you come to value these calm little moments before the storm. No need for talk. Just lager-augmented meditation. While not the most soothing pub in Glasgow – that honour falls to The Laurieston – the Old Toll Bar manages to be cosy yet characterful (and, unlike many nearby hostelries of unknown complexion, it has windows).
Ravi Peshwari was first to arrive, and keen to share news of his latest technological acquisition. The Bulldosa was next, closely followed by Rabbie Shankar and Sir Spicy Lover, who managed to catch TATTGOC’s slackest of loose cannons right in the act of ordering drinks, therefore reaping the fizzy rewards. Among the general chit-chat and ribald bonhomie, there seemed to be a more intense level of anticipation than usual. The Viceroy, it seems, was an almost totally unknown quality, although everyone had a story about the nearby Grand Ole Opry, mostly of the rootin-tootin variety: the admirable but possibly confusing bar queueing system, late-night encounters with the chuck wagon and dramatic six-gun shootouts (staged, for the most part). But before you knew it, it was time to saddle up and mosey on over the road.
The Viceroy isn’t the biggest restaurant – with a capacity of perhaps 40 diners – and, in a callback to the early days of TATTGOC, it was practically empty when the squad arrived. Having the place to yourself can be a bonus, though, and there was certainly a warm welcome – which was made even warmer and more welcoming when, even as the Clubbers were still arranging themselves around the group table, a tray of six lagers materialised. Telepathy? Magic? A reasonable deduction after surveying this louche party? Nope. (Well, maybe that last one). The Viceroy is BYOB, and so was the first chance for TATTGOC to take advantage, en masse, of some of the free lager Kingfisher kindly sent up in support of the blog. The Tramps had dropped off a case earlier, and the Viceroy staff were kind enough to keep it chilled while awaiting the full crew.
Even for these grizzled curry veterans, The Viceroy’s extensive menu took quite a while to properly parse – no great inconvenience when you have free lager, though. A request for poppadoms was placed, belayed and then sort-of placed again – the customary brittle discs arrived with spiced onions and also a thin, aromatic curry sauce which was a table-wide hit. Sensing hunger pangs, The Tramp whipped everyone toward a starter consensus, ensuring that there would be a spicy chop for each Clubber, on top of the shared tandoori and vegetarian platters. It seemed a winning ruse, and while the stylish square starter sideplates seemed slightly at odds with the cheerful red paper tableclothes, it hardly mattered when the sizzling dishes arrived. The selections were uniformly excellent, and the “one man, one chop” strategy appeared to survive its first contact with the enemy.
While ordering the mains, the rice/naan equation was poised at two rice and three naan (two normal, one peshwari). The Tramp had privately suggested he was going to abandon rice from now on in favour of a naan-only accompaniment, partly inspired by comments from the epochal Pilau Talk: The Legends series, where many respondents noted that eating rice simply met less space for curry. Will this actually affect the equation in future or just mean The Tramp will be grabby-grabby with the naan? Time will tell. In the meantime: more Kingfisher!
With bopping background music and another couple of tables in, there was an amiable atmosphere brewing in the Viceroy, and after such great starters, various Clubbers began to enquire as to how the Tramps stumbled onto the place. Turns out it was actually The Bulldosa who first spotted it while working nearby. After noting the classic signage, BuDo was also intrigued by a handwritten note in the window encouraging passers-by to try this “happy and cosy place”. Winningly, it invited interested parties to “come in and see our arrangement ... or come in for a chat”. That definitely sounds TATTGOC-friendly. There were also posters advertising a 2-for-1 curry offer, although that applied to a set menu and everyone knows the untameable free-thinkers of Curry Club generally prefer the wide open prairies of a la carte selections.
These self-same selections began to descend, served in sturdy curry pots and wafting enviable aromas down the table. Trampy had been tempted to plump for a vindaloo after spotting it on the menu, but had chickened out at the last-minute – is there a way to order a vindaloo without sounding like ... well ... a bit of a prick? His replacement choice, chicken tikka achari ghosht, may not have been as dangerously hot, but it was still delicious. The Bulldosa’s lamb tikka bhoona got the sage nod of approval, while Ravi Peshwari went further, eventually declaring his chicken tikka makhani masala as the best dish he’d ever experienced as part of TATTGOC – high praise indeed. The rice and naan were enthusiastically received too, especially the super-sweet peshwari. It occurred to Trampy that at one point Sir Spicy Lover had suggested ordering an additional side dish – perhaps a saag – but that the request had got lost somewhere in the shuffle. He vowed to do better next time.
It’s traditional to get a tableshot of TATTGOC doing what they do best, but in this instance they were pre-empted by the waiter, who took a picture of the chomping crew for the restaurant’s own records (it’s unclear whether this portrait was taken before or after an impressive number of empty Kingfisher bottles began congregating at one end of the table). Despite the bountiful starters, there were clean plates and dishes all round, and a rousing murmur of appreciation for the Viceroy’s efforts. As the waiter presented the extremely reasonable bill, Sir Spicy Lover enquired as to how long the place had been open. Just six weeks, as it turned out. Hopefully it can carve out a niche among Southside curry lovers (although there already looks to be competition opening just a couple of doors down – a place called "Mr India’s Thali", already painted as a possible TATTGOC destination in 2011).
As the sated squad took their leave and mustered for the traditional groupshot outside the restaurant – which resulted in a surprisingly athletic, Kwikfit-inspired, we-are-the-boys-to-trust-OI! synchronised leap in the air – the Tramps sprang their last surprise of the evening. Breaking news: they wouldn’t be organising an October meet-up. Instead, it would be left to the fevered imagination of The Bulldosa, the belated completion of a blood oath sworn many months earlier. Considering his instrumental involvement in uncovering The Viceroy, surely nothing could go wrong with BuDo in charge the same month as Halloween. Right? RIGHT?
Range Of Drinks: BYOB! Which meant a crate of Kingfisher ... The Viceroy kindly took possession of the lager early while the Tramps waited for the gang to assemble in the pub.
Highlights: Wide range of dishes, spotlessly clean, and terrific food across the board. BYOB a real bonus too.
Lowlights: Perhaps a little brightly-lit for intimate dining.
The Verdict: An enthralling experience!
The Damage: £94.75 (tip £13.25)
The Viceroy doesn't have a website but if you fancy checking out this TATTGOC-approved curryhouse, it's at 480 Paisley Road, G5 8RE and you can ring them at 0141 429 4161
The Time: September 30, 8pmBooking Name: None required.
The Pub Aforehand: The Old Toll Bar, Paisley Road West
In Attendance: Trampy, The Tramp, The Bulldosa, Rabbie Shankar, Sir Spicy Lover and Ravi Peshwari
Decor: Just a couple of doors down from the legendary Grand Ole Opry, The Viceroy boasts classic signage that makes it look like burnished part of Glasgow’s rich curry heritage; inside, it’s bright and notably spotless, with a compact buffet station in one corner and tasteful art prints on its neutral walls.
Expectations: With no Curry Clubber claiming previous experience of The Viceroy, and a surprising lack of information about the establishment available online, this was truly to be a journey into the unknown.
The Experience:
With almost two years of curry safari under their straining belts, the Tramps have spent a considerable amount of time grappling with the rice/naan equation. But what’s the golden ratio for TATTGOC itself? Some months the membership expands to more than a dozen, with an attendant ruckus you can probably imagine. For other outings, natural shrinkage asserts itself, bringing the numbers down to more biddable levels. So is there a perfect headcount? Turns out six ain’t bad – instead of various rambling, shouty, divergent debates raging around a sauce-spattered, rice-scattered table, there can be just one Big Conversation ... albeit a rambling, shouty, divergent one.
Six souls: that was the scenario being silently considered by the Tramps in the appealing environs of The Old Toll Bar. For this was September’s official TATTGOC outing, squeaking in under the wire at the very end of the month. When you’ve spent as much time together as the Tramps, you come to value these calm little moments before the storm. No need for talk. Just lager-augmented meditation. While not the most soothing pub in Glasgow – that honour falls to The Laurieston – the Old Toll Bar manages to be cosy yet characterful (and, unlike many nearby hostelries of unknown complexion, it has windows).Ravi Peshwari was first to arrive, and keen to share news of his latest technological acquisition. The Bulldosa was next, closely followed by Rabbie Shankar and Sir Spicy Lover, who managed to catch TATTGOC’s slackest of loose cannons right in the act of ordering drinks, therefore reaping the fizzy rewards. Among the general chit-chat and ribald bonhomie, there seemed to be a more intense level of anticipation than usual. The Viceroy, it seems, was an almost totally unknown quality, although everyone had a story about the nearby Grand Ole Opry, mostly of the rootin-tootin variety: the admirable but possibly confusing bar queueing system, late-night encounters with the chuck wagon and dramatic six-gun shootouts (staged, for the most part). But before you knew it, it was time to saddle up and mosey on over the road.
The Viceroy isn’t the biggest restaurant – with a capacity of perhaps 40 diners – and, in a callback to the early days of TATTGOC, it was practically empty when the squad arrived. Having the place to yourself can be a bonus, though, and there was certainly a warm welcome – which was made even warmer and more welcoming when, even as the Clubbers were still arranging themselves around the group table, a tray of six lagers materialised. Telepathy? Magic? A reasonable deduction after surveying this louche party? Nope. (Well, maybe that last one). The Viceroy is BYOB, and so was the first chance for TATTGOC to take advantage, en masse, of some of the free lager Kingfisher kindly sent up in support of the blog. The Tramps had dropped off a case earlier, and the Viceroy staff were kind enough to keep it chilled while awaiting the full crew.Even for these grizzled curry veterans, The Viceroy’s extensive menu took quite a while to properly parse – no great inconvenience when you have free lager, though. A request for poppadoms was placed, belayed and then sort-of placed again – the customary brittle discs arrived with spiced onions and also a thin, aromatic curry sauce which was a table-wide hit. Sensing hunger pangs, The Tramp whipped everyone toward a starter consensus, ensuring that there would be a spicy chop for each Clubber, on top of the shared tandoori and vegetarian platters. It seemed a winning ruse, and while the stylish square starter sideplates seemed slightly at odds with the cheerful red paper tableclothes, it hardly mattered when the sizzling dishes arrived. The selections were uniformly excellent, and the “one man, one chop” strategy appeared to survive its first contact with the enemy.
While ordering the mains, the rice/naan equation was poised at two rice and three naan (two normal, one peshwari). The Tramp had privately suggested he was going to abandon rice from now on in favour of a naan-only accompaniment, partly inspired by comments from the epochal Pilau Talk: The Legends series, where many respondents noted that eating rice simply met less space for curry. Will this actually affect the equation in future or just mean The Tramp will be grabby-grabby with the naan? Time will tell. In the meantime: more Kingfisher!With bopping background music and another couple of tables in, there was an amiable atmosphere brewing in the Viceroy, and after such great starters, various Clubbers began to enquire as to how the Tramps stumbled onto the place. Turns out it was actually The Bulldosa who first spotted it while working nearby. After noting the classic signage, BuDo was also intrigued by a handwritten note in the window encouraging passers-by to try this “happy and cosy place”. Winningly, it invited interested parties to “come in and see our arrangement ... or come in for a chat”. That definitely sounds TATTGOC-friendly. There were also posters advertising a 2-for-1 curry offer, although that applied to a set menu and everyone knows the untameable free-thinkers of Curry Club generally prefer the wide open prairies of a la carte selections.
These self-same selections began to descend, served in sturdy curry pots and wafting enviable aromas down the table. Trampy had been tempted to plump for a vindaloo after spotting it on the menu, but had chickened out at the last-minute – is there a way to order a vindaloo without sounding like ... well ... a bit of a prick? His replacement choice, chicken tikka achari ghosht, may not have been as dangerously hot, but it was still delicious. The Bulldosa’s lamb tikka bhoona got the sage nod of approval, while Ravi Peshwari went further, eventually declaring his chicken tikka makhani masala as the best dish he’d ever experienced as part of TATTGOC – high praise indeed. The rice and naan were enthusiastically received too, especially the super-sweet peshwari. It occurred to Trampy that at one point Sir Spicy Lover had suggested ordering an additional side dish – perhaps a saag – but that the request had got lost somewhere in the shuffle. He vowed to do better next time.It’s traditional to get a tableshot of TATTGOC doing what they do best, but in this instance they were pre-empted by the waiter, who took a picture of the chomping crew for the restaurant’s own records (it’s unclear whether this portrait was taken before or after an impressive number of empty Kingfisher bottles began congregating at one end of the table). Despite the bountiful starters, there were clean plates and dishes all round, and a rousing murmur of appreciation for the Viceroy’s efforts. As the waiter presented the extremely reasonable bill, Sir Spicy Lover enquired as to how long the place had been open. Just six weeks, as it turned out. Hopefully it can carve out a niche among Southside curry lovers (although there already looks to be competition opening just a couple of doors down – a place called "Mr India’s Thali", already painted as a possible TATTGOC destination in 2011).
As the sated squad took their leave and mustered for the traditional groupshot outside the restaurant – which resulted in a surprisingly athletic, Kwikfit-inspired, we-are-the-boys-to-trust-OI! synchronised leap in the air – the Tramps sprang their last surprise of the evening. Breaking news: they wouldn’t be organising an October meet-up. Instead, it would be left to the fevered imagination of The Bulldosa, the belated completion of a blood oath sworn many months earlier. Considering his instrumental involvement in uncovering The Viceroy, surely nothing could go wrong with BuDo in charge the same month as Halloween. Right? RIGHT?
Range Of Drinks: BYOB! Which meant a crate of Kingfisher ... The Viceroy kindly took possession of the lager early while the Tramps waited for the gang to assemble in the pub.Highlights: Wide range of dishes, spotlessly clean, and terrific food across the board. BYOB a real bonus too.
Lowlights: Perhaps a little brightly-lit for intimate dining.
The Verdict: An enthralling experience!
The Damage: £94.75 (tip £13.25)
The Viceroy doesn't have a website but if you fancy checking out this TATTGOC-approved curryhouse, it's at 480 Paisley Road, G5 8RE and you can ring them at 0141 429 4161
REVIEW: Diggin' Agra Culture
Agra, Anniesland
The Time: February 16, 8.15pm
Booking Name: Christopher Nolan
The Pub Aforehand: Lock 27, Crow Road
In Attendance: Trampy, The Tramp, The Bulldosa, Rumpole Of The Balti, Ravi Peshwari and Sir Spicy Lover
Décor: On a bit of Crow Road that seems to boast a disproportionate amount of restaurants, Agra stands out due to excellent signage. Inside, the vibe is sleek and modern with an appreciative nod to the past with period portraits on the wall.
Expectations: The Duke used to live very near Agra but had never sampled its spicy wares ... this was to be a mystery mission.
The Experience:
Like Iggy Pop once barked, “ch-ch-ch-ch-changes”. The still-nascent 2011 is supposed to be the year that TATTGOC switches things up, experiments with the form and kneels before Lady Gaga and Girl Talk to fully embrace remix culture, because everything is a remix, baby. So, in that pathbreaking spirit, the Tramps opted to change the February meet-up from boring old traditional Thursday night to a finger-snappin’, hellzapoppin Wednesday night ... in Anniesland. Can they help it? No. They were Born This Way. And what was the upshot? In all truth, a slightly less populous turnout than they had initially hoped.
(Read more ...)
The Time: February 16, 8.15pm Booking Name: Christopher Nolan
The Pub Aforehand: Lock 27, Crow Road
In Attendance: Trampy, The Tramp, The Bulldosa, Rumpole Of The Balti, Ravi Peshwari and Sir Spicy Lover
Décor: On a bit of Crow Road that seems to boast a disproportionate amount of restaurants, Agra stands out due to excellent signage. Inside, the vibe is sleek and modern with an appreciative nod to the past with period portraits on the wall.
Expectations: The Duke used to live very near Agra but had never sampled its spicy wares ... this was to be a mystery mission.
The Experience:
Like Iggy Pop once barked, “ch-ch-ch-ch-changes”. The still-nascent 2011 is supposed to be the year that TATTGOC switches things up, experiments with the form and kneels before Lady Gaga and Girl Talk to fully embrace remix culture, because everything is a remix, baby. So, in that pathbreaking spirit, the Tramps opted to change the February meet-up from boring old traditional Thursday night to a finger-snappin’, hellzapoppin Wednesday night ... in Anniesland. Can they help it? No. They were Born This Way. And what was the upshot? In all truth, a slightly less populous turnout than they had initially hoped.
(Read more ...)
REVIEW: I Yad A Dream
Yadgar, Govanhill
The Time: January 19, 8pm
Booking Name: Unrequired!
The Pub Aforehand: The Pandora, Victoria Road
In Attendance: Trampy, The Tramp, The Bulldosa, Rogan Josh Homme, Ravi Peshari, Chasni Hawkes and the triumphant return of The Birmingham Wan.
Decor: A no-nonsense diner and takeaway, Yadgar is bright and bustling, but with decent crockery and cutlery your ma wouldn’t turn her nose up at.
Expectations: Possibly absurdly high, because so many people TATTGOC respect have recommended it with great enthusiasm.
The Experience:
Legends. They are only definitively born in their perpetual retelling, which is perhaps why they can seem to pillow and bulge in the process. For who, in their heart of hearts, wants to recount a simply boilerplate tale? Better to add a curlicue here, a grace note there. And in cruel, unsmiling January – that dryest, drabbest of months, especially for those in the Curry Club who vow to forgo the evils of alcohol in the pursuit of some imaginary reboot of themselves – the prospect of becoming swept up in a greater narrative becomes ever more appealing. Call it surrender; casting oneself into a spicy riptide, tugged down into an inky blackness, only to emerge – mewling and reborn – into the light. Just go. Go with the flow ...
(Not had enough of this? Click here to, uh, “cast oneself” ...)
Booking Name: Unrequired!
The Pub Aforehand: The Pandora, Victoria Road
In Attendance: Trampy, The Tramp, The Bulldosa, Rogan Josh Homme, Ravi Peshari, Chasni Hawkes and the triumphant return of The Birmingham Wan.
Decor: A no-nonsense diner and takeaway, Yadgar is bright and bustling, but with decent crockery and cutlery your ma wouldn’t turn her nose up at.
Expectations: Possibly absurdly high, because so many people TATTGOC respect have recommended it with great enthusiasm.
The Experience:
Legends. They are only definitively born in their perpetual retelling, which is perhaps why they can seem to pillow and bulge in the process. For who, in their heart of hearts, wants to recount a simply boilerplate tale? Better to add a curlicue here, a grace note there. And in cruel, unsmiling January – that dryest, drabbest of months, especially for those in the Curry Club who vow to forgo the evils of alcohol in the pursuit of some imaginary reboot of themselves – the prospect of becoming swept up in a greater narrative becomes ever more appealing. Call it surrender; casting oneself into a spicy riptide, tugged down into an inky blackness, only to emerge – mewling and reborn – into the light. Just go. Go with the flow ...
(Not had enough of this? Click here to, uh, “cast oneself” ...)
REVIEW: Alishan’s Starting To Happen*
Alishan, Battlefield Road
The Time: July 14, 8pm
Booking Name: George Lucas
The Pub Aforehand: Clockwork Beer Co, Cathcart Road
In Attendance: Trampy, Ravi Peshwari, The Gheezer, Rogan Josh Homme, Sir Spicy Lover and special east coast guest All Tomorrow’s Bhajis
Decor: With a traditional facade and interior, the Alishan immediately seemed like somewhere TATTGOC would feel immediately at ease.
Expectations: No-one in the party had visited this place before but some folk had uncovered a pretty glowing recommendation attributed to The Herald – that the Alishan was one of the five best places to have a curry in Glasgow. No-one was quite sure when that article was published though …
The Experience:
How do you react when someone insists you’re irrevocably set in your ways? The first instinct is to huffily proclaim that you remain as flexible – in physical, emotional and scheduling terms – as you were as a tearaway teen, in those heady days when your breast ached for new experiences and greedily gorged when such encounters presented themselves. Underneath the petrifying crust of daily routine there still burns within you an explosive, improvisational core – and any illusion of staid inflexibility exists only to protect friends and family from your true, devil-may-care nature, such is its vesuvian intensity. For the very same reason, did not Zorro masquerade as feckless nobleman Don Diego de la Vega? ’Tis is a necessary charade; a quotidian skin to better blend with the sadsack norms alongside you in the Five Items Or Less queue. Little do they suspect, as they shuffle forward – clutching their Sainsbury’s Taste The Difference Gruyere & Garlic Fougasse while mentally preparing their evening’s iPlayer playlist – that if you were to truly embrace your unpredictable nature, they would be left reeling in the garden of your turbulence. Reeling, I tell you! REELING!
(In other words: TATTGOC’s July outing was on a Wednesday rather than the traditional Thursday.)
Yep, sometimes the Tramps just like to shake things up. And it genuinely seemed like a good idea at the time, although judging by the torrential chuckdown that dampened the entire evening, one or more of the ancient elemental gods were unhappy at the relatively last-minute date change. In their haste to appear virile and vital, our hairy heroes were also perhaps hung by their own retard – the fact that silver-tongued usurper The Bulldosa would be prevented from attending because of a previous engagement may have been merely regrettable, but when news broke that The Tramp himself would be scunnered, it felt more like this particular Wednesday had somehow been cursed. Had TATTGOC – wittingly or, more likely, not – done something to anger Odin himself?
These were the questions that preoccupied Trampy as he sat in the Clockwork Beer Co, a most pleasant southside microbrewery. He was accompanied by All Tomorrow’s Bhajis (ATB), a brother from TATTGOC’s east coast chapter who could almost have sailed over for the evening’s celebration, such was the torrent. Clutching their microbrewed ales had prompted some welcome discussion about BrewDog, those crazy hopheads in Fraserburgh who have apparently made it their mission to turn out mindbending concoctions (most recently that 55% brew that comes packaged in a very surprised-looking woodland animal: Yogi Beer, if you like). They were joined by Ravi Peshwari, fresh from a body- and mind-cleansing trip to Nepal and full of tales of the horizon-broadening experience. The Gheezer and Rogan Josh Homme arrived soon after, expressing similar, squelchy discomfort at the punishing rain. The various pints went down smoothly, but it looked likely to be a moist trek to the restaurant – until Mr Peshwari revealed he’d brought the Ravimobile, which transported our band directly to the fabled Alishan in style and relative comfort.
Sir Spicy Lover was in situ already, parked in alongside a ruddy great fishtank, supping a pint and thumbing through the Alishan’s substantial-looking menu. After the traditional high-fives and secret handshakes, the hardy, non-tardy cadre of Curry Clubbers settled into their default setting of booze and bonhomie, with refreshing pints of Tennent’s on draught and a go-on-then-why-not? double-round of poppadoms and attendant dips. Thinking Sir Spicy might already have the measure of the menu, he was asked to summarise it for everyone else, like a more piquant version of Mark Lawrenson. Sir Spicy confessed that he’d barely scratched the surface of the selection, and it was only when opening the protective covers that the rest of the Clubbers grasped just how expansive the Alishan offerings were (you can get a flavour of the evening menu and the mouthwatering descriptions of dishes on the Alishan website). Perhaps it was just as well that there was a double-dose of poppadoms, as this was clearly going to take a while. Any time not spent mulling over the various options was spent checking out the reassuring décor, a callback to classic curryhouse design with additional evocative art and those two magnificent and well-populated fishtanks. On this midweek evening, TATTGOC had the place pretty much to themselves bar another small table, but a steady stream of customers collecting takeaway suggested that the Alishan dominates its local catchment area.
While the dizzying array of main dishes had slowed things to a crawl as those assembled weighed up their options, the crew reached a reasonably rapid consensus when it came to the starters. As with TATTGOC’s six-strong Rawalpindi visit, it was tacitly decided to push the boat out a little, ordering up a selection of Bombay pakora, a special mixed Tikka (featuring chicken and lamb Tikka, plus a sheikh kebab) and a mushroom chaat. Despite being determined not to repeat June’s disastrous over-ordering of starters – what’s now being called Chilliesgate – Trampy couldn’t quite help himself from ordering another dish of veg pakora, perhaps because he could sense it would take a while to log the main course order, but possibly just because he is inherently greedy. At this relatively early juncture, there was still a dim chance that The Tramp would make an appearance but he crushed those hopes with a stoic but clearly emotionally-charged text message; the only correct way to respond was to send a cameraphone picture of the crew soberly saluting their absent captain. (At least, they were supposed to look sober.)
Back to that epic menu, which was starting to make the Dead Sea Scrolls look like The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Luckily, an attendant waiter was on hand to guide our merry band – The Gheezer wanted to know a bit more about the difference between the balti and karahi selections, which appeared to be cooked in a very similar fashion. After setting The Gheezer straight, the waiter then guided Sir Spicy Lover toward the lamb dish which was right for him. With the main courses locked, it came down to the old rice/naan equation – and at this point, Trampy lost his nerve somewhat. In the ongoing series of Pilau Talk: The Legends Q&As with other notable curry lovers, The Tramp had remarked that very few interviewees seemed that enthusiastic about either rice or naan, preferring a roti or some other sundry. With just six Curry Clubbers present – a presumably manageable control group – perhaps this the perfect moment to mix things up with some paratha, chapati or roti? Sadly, Don Diego won out over Zorro on the night: a garlic naan, a peshwari naan and three pilau rice was the final outcome.
The Tramp is usually responsible for visually documenting TATTGOC outings but in his absence Rogan Josh Homme had brought along a smart-looking camera to capture those candidly magical manly moments (and he did a fantastic job too). As the starters arrived, there were still a few poppadom stragglers left which The Gheezer insisted remain on the table "just in case". The tikka selection was a standout, carved up among the secret six. Ravi Peshwari, who had expressed a particular interest in the Bombay pakora gave the resulting dish a firm thumbs-up, although it did appear that the mint sauce accompaniment promised in the menu got a little lost in the shuffle. Sir Spicy expertly carved up the chaat, which was fairly and evenly distributed around the table, a surprisingly dainty task considering the sheer masculinity on display. With the additional veg pakora on hand to sate any extra appetites, it seemed like TATTGOC had got its starter groove back. Onwards!
As the starter plates were cleared, The Gheezer remained steadfast in his belief that someone might want to return to the one remaining poppadom – and so it sat alone, at the head of the table, a brittle symbol of eternal optimism. The main courses arrived in old-school stainless-steel dishes, which seemed entirely fitting with the Alishan's comforting milieu, and the three pilau rice dishes – each easily bifurcated among the troop – had that vibrant yellow-orange-red tricolour that screams "classic curryhouse", only outshone by a particularly raffish chicken tikka achari that seemed almost to pulse with redness. The generously-proportioned naans were pretty good too. Perhaps it was because so many Clubbers had been humbled by the abundance of June's outing, but these six set about their dinners with an almost Michael Mann-esque level of icy, assured professionalism, truly worthy to be called Curry Lovers of this – or any – year. There would be no need for doggy bags this time, no sir.
There was, however, a general agreement that the Alishan was exactly the sort of place that TATTGOC was founded to experience and, unlike the weather, it had not let the assembled down. After the eminently reasonable bill was settled, the six men arranged themselves to face the rain. As they were filing out, an eagle-eyed Clubber spotted a familiar face on a wall of press clippings and photographs. There was one (no, two!) vintage pictures of Alex Salmond – Scotland’s First Minister and recent TATTGOC correspondent – looking hale and hearty after an Alishan feed. It seemed cosmically appropriate that TATTGOC, proud holders of the Curry Lover(s) of the Year 2010 title, should be following in the historical footsteps of the Curry Lover of the Year 2009. But where would they lead us next? It was something to ponder, as the team hurriedly piled back into the Ravimobile, like a cumin-scented pack of wet spaniels ...
Range Of Drinks: Tennent’s on tap, and a well-stocked selection of spirits.
Highlights: Good service, ambience and décor; generally top-notch food.
Lowlights: The extensive menu took a while to navigate but we got there in the end.
The Verdict: A near-overwhelming experience!
The Damage: £121.10 (tip £12.90)
* In case not everyone’s a Lemonheads fan, here’s what inspired the post title.
The Time: July 14, 8pmBooking Name: George Lucas
The Pub Aforehand: Clockwork Beer Co, Cathcart Road
In Attendance: Trampy, Ravi Peshwari, The Gheezer, Rogan Josh Homme, Sir Spicy Lover and special east coast guest All Tomorrow’s Bhajis
Decor: With a traditional facade and interior, the Alishan immediately seemed like somewhere TATTGOC would feel immediately at ease.
Expectations: No-one in the party had visited this place before but some folk had uncovered a pretty glowing recommendation attributed to The Herald – that the Alishan was one of the five best places to have a curry in Glasgow. No-one was quite sure when that article was published though …
The Experience:
How do you react when someone insists you’re irrevocably set in your ways? The first instinct is to huffily proclaim that you remain as flexible – in physical, emotional and scheduling terms – as you were as a tearaway teen, in those heady days when your breast ached for new experiences and greedily gorged when such encounters presented themselves. Underneath the petrifying crust of daily routine there still burns within you an explosive, improvisational core – and any illusion of staid inflexibility exists only to protect friends and family from your true, devil-may-care nature, such is its vesuvian intensity. For the very same reason, did not Zorro masquerade as feckless nobleman Don Diego de la Vega? ’Tis is a necessary charade; a quotidian skin to better blend with the sadsack norms alongside you in the Five Items Or Less queue. Little do they suspect, as they shuffle forward – clutching their Sainsbury’s Taste The Difference Gruyere & Garlic Fougasse while mentally preparing their evening’s iPlayer playlist – that if you were to truly embrace your unpredictable nature, they would be left reeling in the garden of your turbulence. Reeling, I tell you! REELING!
(In other words: TATTGOC’s July outing was on a Wednesday rather than the traditional Thursday.)
Yep, sometimes the Tramps just like to shake things up. And it genuinely seemed like a good idea at the time, although judging by the torrential chuckdown that dampened the entire evening, one or more of the ancient elemental gods were unhappy at the relatively last-minute date change. In their haste to appear virile and vital, our hairy heroes were also perhaps hung by their own retard – the fact that silver-tongued usurper The Bulldosa would be prevented from attending because of a previous engagement may have been merely regrettable, but when news broke that The Tramp himself would be scunnered, it felt more like this particular Wednesday had somehow been cursed. Had TATTGOC – wittingly or, more likely, not – done something to anger Odin himself?
These were the questions that preoccupied Trampy as he sat in the Clockwork Beer Co, a most pleasant southside microbrewery. He was accompanied by All Tomorrow’s Bhajis (ATB), a brother from TATTGOC’s east coast chapter who could almost have sailed over for the evening’s celebration, such was the torrent. Clutching their microbrewed ales had prompted some welcome discussion about BrewDog, those crazy hopheads in Fraserburgh who have apparently made it their mission to turn out mindbending concoctions (most recently that 55% brew that comes packaged in a very surprised-looking woodland animal: Yogi Beer, if you like). They were joined by Ravi Peshwari, fresh from a body- and mind-cleansing trip to Nepal and full of tales of the horizon-broadening experience. The Gheezer and Rogan Josh Homme arrived soon after, expressing similar, squelchy discomfort at the punishing rain. The various pints went down smoothly, but it looked likely to be a moist trek to the restaurant – until Mr Peshwari revealed he’d brought the Ravimobile, which transported our band directly to the fabled Alishan in style and relative comfort.
Sir Spicy Lover was in situ already, parked in alongside a ruddy great fishtank, supping a pint and thumbing through the Alishan’s substantial-looking menu. After the traditional high-fives and secret handshakes, the hardy, non-tardy cadre of Curry Clubbers settled into their default setting of booze and bonhomie, with refreshing pints of Tennent’s on draught and a go-on-then-why-not? double-round of poppadoms and attendant dips. Thinking Sir Spicy might already have the measure of the menu, he was asked to summarise it for everyone else, like a more piquant version of Mark Lawrenson. Sir Spicy confessed that he’d barely scratched the surface of the selection, and it was only when opening the protective covers that the rest of the Clubbers grasped just how expansive the Alishan offerings were (you can get a flavour of the evening menu and the mouthwatering descriptions of dishes on the Alishan website). Perhaps it was just as well that there was a double-dose of poppadoms, as this was clearly going to take a while. Any time not spent mulling over the various options was spent checking out the reassuring décor, a callback to classic curryhouse design with additional evocative art and those two magnificent and well-populated fishtanks. On this midweek evening, TATTGOC had the place pretty much to themselves bar another small table, but a steady stream of customers collecting takeaway suggested that the Alishan dominates its local catchment area.
While the dizzying array of main dishes had slowed things to a crawl as those assembled weighed up their options, the crew reached a reasonably rapid consensus when it came to the starters. As with TATTGOC’s six-strong Rawalpindi visit, it was tacitly decided to push the boat out a little, ordering up a selection of Bombay pakora, a special mixed Tikka (featuring chicken and lamb Tikka, plus a sheikh kebab) and a mushroom chaat. Despite being determined not to repeat June’s disastrous over-ordering of starters – what’s now being called Chilliesgate – Trampy couldn’t quite help himself from ordering another dish of veg pakora, perhaps because he could sense it would take a while to log the main course order, but possibly just because he is inherently greedy. At this relatively early juncture, there was still a dim chance that The Tramp would make an appearance but he crushed those hopes with a stoic but clearly emotionally-charged text message; the only correct way to respond was to send a cameraphone picture of the crew soberly saluting their absent captain. (At least, they were supposed to look sober.)
Back to that epic menu, which was starting to make the Dead Sea Scrolls look like The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Luckily, an attendant waiter was on hand to guide our merry band – The Gheezer wanted to know a bit more about the difference between the balti and karahi selections, which appeared to be cooked in a very similar fashion. After setting The Gheezer straight, the waiter then guided Sir Spicy Lover toward the lamb dish which was right for him. With the main courses locked, it came down to the old rice/naan equation – and at this point, Trampy lost his nerve somewhat. In the ongoing series of Pilau Talk: The Legends Q&As with other notable curry lovers, The Tramp had remarked that very few interviewees seemed that enthusiastic about either rice or naan, preferring a roti or some other sundry. With just six Curry Clubbers present – a presumably manageable control group – perhaps this the perfect moment to mix things up with some paratha, chapati or roti? Sadly, Don Diego won out over Zorro on the night: a garlic naan, a peshwari naan and three pilau rice was the final outcome.
The Tramp is usually responsible for visually documenting TATTGOC outings but in his absence Rogan Josh Homme had brought along a smart-looking camera to capture those candidly magical manly moments (and he did a fantastic job too). As the starters arrived, there were still a few poppadom stragglers left which The Gheezer insisted remain on the table "just in case". The tikka selection was a standout, carved up among the secret six. Ravi Peshwari, who had expressed a particular interest in the Bombay pakora gave the resulting dish a firm thumbs-up, although it did appear that the mint sauce accompaniment promised in the menu got a little lost in the shuffle. Sir Spicy expertly carved up the chaat, which was fairly and evenly distributed around the table, a surprisingly dainty task considering the sheer masculinity on display. With the additional veg pakora on hand to sate any extra appetites, it seemed like TATTGOC had got its starter groove back. Onwards!
As the starter plates were cleared, The Gheezer remained steadfast in his belief that someone might want to return to the one remaining poppadom – and so it sat alone, at the head of the table, a brittle symbol of eternal optimism. The main courses arrived in old-school stainless-steel dishes, which seemed entirely fitting with the Alishan's comforting milieu, and the three pilau rice dishes – each easily bifurcated among the troop – had that vibrant yellow-orange-red tricolour that screams "classic curryhouse", only outshone by a particularly raffish chicken tikka achari that seemed almost to pulse with redness. The generously-proportioned naans were pretty good too. Perhaps it was because so many Clubbers had been humbled by the abundance of June's outing, but these six set about their dinners with an almost Michael Mann-esque level of icy, assured professionalism, truly worthy to be called Curry Lovers of this – or any – year. There would be no need for doggy bags this time, no sir.
There was, however, a general agreement that the Alishan was exactly the sort of place that TATTGOC was founded to experience and, unlike the weather, it had not let the assembled down. After the eminently reasonable bill was settled, the six men arranged themselves to face the rain. As they were filing out, an eagle-eyed Clubber spotted a familiar face on a wall of press clippings and photographs. There was one (no, two!) vintage pictures of Alex Salmond – Scotland’s First Minister and recent TATTGOC correspondent – looking hale and hearty after an Alishan feed. It seemed cosmically appropriate that TATTGOC, proud holders of the Curry Lover(s) of the Year 2010 title, should be following in the historical footsteps of the Curry Lover of the Year 2009. But where would they lead us next? It was something to ponder, as the team hurriedly piled back into the Ravimobile, like a cumin-scented pack of wet spaniels ...Range Of Drinks: Tennent’s on tap, and a well-stocked selection of spirits.
Highlights: Good service, ambience and décor; generally top-notch food.Lowlights: The extensive menu took a while to navigate but we got there in the end.
The Verdict: A near-overwhelming experience!
The Damage: £121.10 (tip £12.90)
* In case not everyone’s a Lemonheads fan, here’s what inspired the post title.
REVIEW: Have I Got Shenaz For You
The Shenaz, Charing Cross
The Time: November 18, 8.15pm
Booking Name: Alan Smithee
The Pub Aforehand: The Avalon, Kent Road
In Attendance: Trampy, The Tramp, The Bulldosa, Ravi Peshwari, Rogan Josh Homme, Rabbie Shankar, The Duke ... and TATTGOC debutante Garlic Bam
Decor: The Shenaz has clearly been done up relatively recently, with tastefully exposed brickwork, smart chairs and some eye-catching art prints.
Expectations: While still regarded as one of the grand old ladies of the Glasgow curry scene, The Shenaz apparently went through a bit of a wobble a few years ago, according to some unverifiable online reports and a long anecdote from a taxi driver that Ravi Peshwari once encountered. Since this was such a special occasion, the Tramps were obviously hoping The Shenaz would knock it out of the park ...
The Experience:
George Eliot once said: “I desire no future that breaks the ties of the past.” Well, if it was ties of the past that the admired Victorian novelist was after, she would have been charmed and gratified by the second anniversary meet-up of TATTGOC. On such occasions, the roustabouts and neer-do-well’s of Curry Club traditionally don their best togs and break out the neckties. Some are black. Some are blue. Some have so much food of them they should be stored in the fridge rather than the wardrobe. But, blimey, don’t they make TATTGOC look handsome? Or at least, like the Glasgow chapter of the Edward Woodward Equaliser Wardrobe Appreciation Society?
That was the masculine scene in the Avalon – also the bar aforehand of choice for last year’s 12-month milestone – as eight sturdy fellows reflected on another packed year of curry lovin’. All were veterans, except for neophyte Garlic Bam, a fellow who had been included in all the wild, fevered ambitions of TATTGOC from day one but had chosen not to attend any meet-ups for his own, intensely personal reasons. For the most part, the Curry Club are a forward-looking bunch, often curious about what future curryhouses are scheduled and always attempting to intuit who will get the next round. But this was also a time for reflection. Sure, TATTGOC had been recognised at the Scottish Curry Awards 2010 back in June. But it had also lost some of its most committed members. Both Jalfrezi and The Birmingham Wan had felt the riptide pull of non-Glasgow-based employment opportunities. Would an economic mistral carry off any more of the brotherhood in the months ahead?
If all that sounds a bit maudlin, the mood in the Avalon was generally upbeat, especially when it was revealed by Trampy and The Tramp that the evening’s venue would be The Shenaz. One of Glasgow’s oldest continuing curryhouses, The Shenaz has been opposite the Mitchell Library on Granville Street since 1963. Close scrutiny of the TATTGOC charter might suggest that the Curry Club avoids the most venerable Glasgow curryhouses in favour of seeking out potential new legends but on occasions such as anniversaries, it’s nice to go somewhere where there’s a sporting chance there will be other diners to share the spicy joy.
And blimey, were there plenty at The Shenaz! A cursory headcount by The Tramp suggested that this was the busiest restaurant TATTGOC had ever visited, the decent-sized dining room packed with animated patrons, which surely bode well for the tucker. Once the eight-strong team got settled, an order of eight Kingfishers was placed and the menu was set upon. Puzzling over the starters, the Tramps put their heads together to work out a stratagem – in recent months, lamb chops had become their go-to opening dish, but while The Shenaz offered some intriguing-sounding starters (including “Moonlight Tikka” and “Lamb Tikka Orange”), there didn’t appear to be a lamb chop option. Trampy took it up on himself to order up some Tandoori Chicken in lieu of chops, bulking out the order with mixed platters for two. In discussion with the waiter, however, it transpired that the Tandoori Chicken was just one plump breast, ill-suited to sharing. In the end, three mixed platters-for-two were chosen. Boo-yah!
Perhaps the logicistical pressure was beginning to get to Trampy. Within seconds of the three platters touching down, an enthusiastic dunking of a mushroom pakora into some pink sauce resulted in the last thing that anyone wanted to happen – a massive dribble on his royal blue tie (and a little bit stuck in his patchy beard, but no-one wanted to look at that). Long-time readers will recall that TATTGOC’s first anniversary included a mildly competitive element – the member who had spattered the most curry on himself won a silk necktie (a competition won, of course, by Sir Spicy Lover). In the absence of Sir Spicy Lover, who was conscientiously attending a conference in London, Trampy had nevertheless set the pace for spicy spillage ...
The rice-naan equation had similarly got a little slapdash, with the Tramps ordering up two saffron rice, two boiled rice and the usual troika of plain, garlic and peshwari naan – a total of seven sundries, almost a man-to-man marking system! However, TATTGOC’s grinning overlords were confident that by keeping the starter order under control, the assembled troops would have a decent chance of getting through all their feast. From the broad Shenaz selection, three Curry Clubbers had chosen to plump for one of the house specials, a Lamb Rogan Josh that promised that is was “different from any other place” due to the lamb being cooked from raw in garlic and yoghurt. The resulting dish received an enthusiastic thumbs-up from everyone who piled in to get a lovin' spoonful, the lamb deliciously moist and flavoursome.
Another Shenaz Original was their Special Beef, a rich and strong curry made with topside beef and plenty of methi. Genuinely unusual, it was praised by those who tried it although the Lamb Rogan Josh was still judged the favourite. For his part, The Tramp quietly enjoyed a Ceylonese Lamb Bhoona, spicier than his usual fare but all the tastier for it. Despite the masses of rice and naan, there were generally clean plates all round, and the brotherhood soon settled into their usual post-curry longeur. The place had thinned out a little, although even when packed, the service had never missed a beat. The consensus at the table was that The Shenaz had immediately taken its place among the best places TATTGOC had visited – and that was before each member was gifted with a commemorative keyring.
As the conversation wound down, and the last pints of Kingfisher were horse-traded between those that were full and those that were firsty, there arrived palate-cleansing bowls of sugar-coated fennel and even little chunks of pineapple, which involved some unpleasant taunting of Trampy, due to his legendary – perhaps mythical – allergy to the prickly Lilt ingredient. Unusually, there was no speechifying, no grandstanding, no filibustering. Perhaps the Tramps were saving it for the Christmas meet-up. After two years, 24 curryhouses and innumerable instances of loosening their belts, you might think they were losing their enthusiasm for seeking out unusual curry in Glasgow. Could the Curry Lovers Of The Year be suffering from performance anxiety? Or were they even running out of potential places to visit? COULD THIS BE THE END OF TATTGOC? In the immortal words of the Delgados: No Danger.
Range Of Drinks: Kingfisher on tap, which is all we needed to know.
Highlights: Fantastic food, attentive service even in a mobbed environment and a free keyring too.
Lowlights: Pineapple? Seriously?
The Verdict: A momentous experience!
The Damage: £168.35 (tip £19.65)
SOME OTHER RECENT TATTGOC OUTINGS
Madras Palace, Charing Cross
The Viceroy, Paisley Road
Thali, Merchant City
Alishan Tandoori, Battlefield Road
Booking Name: Alan Smithee
The Pub Aforehand: The Avalon, Kent Road
In Attendance: Trampy, The Tramp, The Bulldosa, Ravi Peshwari, Rogan Josh Homme, Rabbie Shankar, The Duke ... and TATTGOC debutante Garlic Bam
Decor: The Shenaz has clearly been done up relatively recently, with tastefully exposed brickwork, smart chairs and some eye-catching art prints.
Expectations: While still regarded as one of the grand old ladies of the Glasgow curry scene, The Shenaz apparently went through a bit of a wobble a few years ago, according to some unverifiable online reports and a long anecdote from a taxi driver that Ravi Peshwari once encountered. Since this was such a special occasion, the Tramps were obviously hoping The Shenaz would knock it out of the park ...
The Experience:
George Eliot once said: “I desire no future that breaks the ties of the past.” Well, if it was ties of the past that the admired Victorian novelist was after, she would have been charmed and gratified by the second anniversary meet-up of TATTGOC. On such occasions, the roustabouts and neer-do-well’s of Curry Club traditionally don their best togs and break out the neckties. Some are black. Some are blue. Some have so much food of them they should be stored in the fridge rather than the wardrobe. But, blimey, don’t they make TATTGOC look handsome? Or at least, like the Glasgow chapter of the Edward Woodward Equaliser Wardrobe Appreciation Society?
That was the masculine scene in the Avalon – also the bar aforehand of choice for last year’s 12-month milestone – as eight sturdy fellows reflected on another packed year of curry lovin’. All were veterans, except for neophyte Garlic Bam, a fellow who had been included in all the wild, fevered ambitions of TATTGOC from day one but had chosen not to attend any meet-ups for his own, intensely personal reasons. For the most part, the Curry Club are a forward-looking bunch, often curious about what future curryhouses are scheduled and always attempting to intuit who will get the next round. But this was also a time for reflection. Sure, TATTGOC had been recognised at the Scottish Curry Awards 2010 back in June. But it had also lost some of its most committed members. Both Jalfrezi and The Birmingham Wan had felt the riptide pull of non-Glasgow-based employment opportunities. Would an economic mistral carry off any more of the brotherhood in the months ahead?
If all that sounds a bit maudlin, the mood in the Avalon was generally upbeat, especially when it was revealed by Trampy and The Tramp that the evening’s venue would be The Shenaz. One of Glasgow’s oldest continuing curryhouses, The Shenaz has been opposite the Mitchell Library on Granville Street since 1963. Close scrutiny of the TATTGOC charter might suggest that the Curry Club avoids the most venerable Glasgow curryhouses in favour of seeking out potential new legends but on occasions such as anniversaries, it’s nice to go somewhere where there’s a sporting chance there will be other diners to share the spicy joy.
And blimey, were there plenty at The Shenaz! A cursory headcount by The Tramp suggested that this was the busiest restaurant TATTGOC had ever visited, the decent-sized dining room packed with animated patrons, which surely bode well for the tucker. Once the eight-strong team got settled, an order of eight Kingfishers was placed and the menu was set upon. Puzzling over the starters, the Tramps put their heads together to work out a stratagem – in recent months, lamb chops had become their go-to opening dish, but while The Shenaz offered some intriguing-sounding starters (including “Moonlight Tikka” and “Lamb Tikka Orange”), there didn’t appear to be a lamb chop option. Trampy took it up on himself to order up some Tandoori Chicken in lieu of chops, bulking out the order with mixed platters for two. In discussion with the waiter, however, it transpired that the Tandoori Chicken was just one plump breast, ill-suited to sharing. In the end, three mixed platters-for-two were chosen. Boo-yah!
Perhaps the logicistical pressure was beginning to get to Trampy. Within seconds of the three platters touching down, an enthusiastic dunking of a mushroom pakora into some pink sauce resulted in the last thing that anyone wanted to happen – a massive dribble on his royal blue tie (and a little bit stuck in his patchy beard, but no-one wanted to look at that). Long-time readers will recall that TATTGOC’s first anniversary included a mildly competitive element – the member who had spattered the most curry on himself won a silk necktie (a competition won, of course, by Sir Spicy Lover). In the absence of Sir Spicy Lover, who was conscientiously attending a conference in London, Trampy had nevertheless set the pace for spicy spillage ...
The rice-naan equation had similarly got a little slapdash, with the Tramps ordering up two saffron rice, two boiled rice and the usual troika of plain, garlic and peshwari naan – a total of seven sundries, almost a man-to-man marking system! However, TATTGOC’s grinning overlords were confident that by keeping the starter order under control, the assembled troops would have a decent chance of getting through all their feast. From the broad Shenaz selection, three Curry Clubbers had chosen to plump for one of the house specials, a Lamb Rogan Josh that promised that is was “different from any other place” due to the lamb being cooked from raw in garlic and yoghurt. The resulting dish received an enthusiastic thumbs-up from everyone who piled in to get a lovin' spoonful, the lamb deliciously moist and flavoursome.
Highlights: Fantastic food, attentive service even in a mobbed environment and a free keyring too.
Lowlights: Pineapple? Seriously?
The Verdict: A momentous experience!
The Damage: £168.35 (tip £19.65)
SOME OTHER RECENT TATTGOC OUTINGS
Madras Palace, Charing Cross
The Viceroy, Paisley Road
Thali, Merchant City
Alishan Tandoori, Battlefield Road
A Very Special Foreign Curryspondence ... Dateline: Brisbane!
(The TATTGOC brotherhood extends around the globe, and we welcome reports of curry expeditions beyond Glasgow – in this very special missive, The Tramp his own bad self reports from the far side of the world. But can the flamin' Aussies really do a scorching curry? Or is it all tucker's luck?)
The Ceylon Inn by The Tramp
Booking Name: The booking was made by our hosts so it was probably their surname. But I like to imagine that it was either "Michael J Dundee" ... or "S. Irwin".
The Pub Aforehand: Unbelievably we didn’t actually go to a pub aforehand (particularly strange for Australia). We were drinking in the AWESOME back garden of our hosts, which features a full-size, perpetually-stocked fridge dedicated to beer.
In Attendance: The Tramp, Mumbai Me A Pony, Crocodhal Dundee and, eventually, Cate Blanchaat.
Décor: Classic colonial chic. Atmospherically low lantern lighting, dark wooden furnishings and loose hanging ceiling drapes. Being in sub-tropical Brisbane, the restaurant is open-fronted and also has two on-street tables complete with comfy old-school sofa/bench combo units ... which is exactly where we were seated.
Expectations: This was to be the third curry I’d tried on our Aussie odyssey – the first, a quickie from a shopping mall food court, was predictably awful and didn’t inspire confidence in Australian/Indian cooking. The second, a takeaway from Bollywood Kitchen in Byron Bay, was much better (especially the prawn pakora) so things were looking up for spicy tucker. Our hosts had taken us to great eateries throughout the whole trip and assured us that the Ceylon Inn was well-regarded. So expectations were running high ...
The Experience:
Décor: Classic colonial chic. Atmospherically low lantern lighting, dark wooden furnishings and loose hanging ceiling drapes. Being in sub-tropical Brisbane, the restaurant is open-fronted and also has two on-street tables complete with comfy old-school sofa/bench combo units ... which is exactly where we were seated.
Expectations: This was to be the third curry I’d tried on our Aussie odyssey – the first, a quickie from a shopping mall food court, was predictably awful and didn’t inspire confidence in Australian/Indian cooking. The second, a takeaway from Bollywood Kitchen in Byron Bay, was much better (especially the prawn pakora) so things were looking up for spicy tucker. Our hosts had taken us to great eateries throughout the whole trip and assured us that the Ceylon Inn was well-regarded. So expectations were running high ...
The Experience:
Some Pilau Talk With ... Dominik Diamond!
Everyone in the TATTGOC brotherhood loves curry – we even have an award that says so! But surely we could still learn a thing or two from other prominent curry lovers? And maybe even go round to their house for tea? In the special Q&A series we're calling Pilau Talk: The Legends, Trampy and The Tramp will be asking well-kent faces to recommend some of their favourite curry haunts and recall some of their most memorable spicy experiences. And for the final instalment, we're honoured to present an absolute legend-with-a-capital-L: Dominik Diamond, journalist, broadcaster and author. Now resident in Nova Scotia – where he tills the land with his bare hands, raises a family in the honest Canadian air, composes a trenchant weekly newspaper column and utterly dominates the FM airwaves – Diamond also recently published a memoir, Celtic & Me, which is as raw and uncompromising as you would expect from GamesMaster's eternal godhead. What on earth will he do next? Keep up by visiting his natty official website. Over to Dominik ...
What are some of your favourite Glasgow curryhouses, past or present? Mother India for special occasions and the Ashoka South Side for your regular Southside dining needs. And Mister Singh's in Charing Cross was THE Beat 106/Xfm curryhouse of choice.
And your favourite Glasgow curry takeaway?
Shahed's on Pollokshaws Road. Danny Singh's at Shawlands Cross. That one that used to be on the corner of Albert Drive and Darnley Street in Pollokshields in 2006. It was what I call "hardcore" – a restaurant downstairs that didn’t allow alcohol and a separate dining room for women. I worried about whether it was right I should frequent a place with segregation like that, but then I remembered that for years Heraghty’s didn’t have a lady’s loo and that never bothered me.
The reason I mention that place in was that for six months my wife and I were utterly addicted to their tandoori lamb chops. They were just the most concentrated meat/spice taste sensation ever. They would batter your tastebuds like the dust at the bottom of packet of dry-roasted peanuts. The problem was that, for some reason, they went STRAIGHT through me. Seriously. The next morning I would have the hot runs. The fact that I STILL carried on ordering and eating them tells you how good they were. Then the place shut down.
Funny that.
What’s your all-time favourite curry dish, the one to which you always return?
Mughlai Chicken. Sure, I will happily gnarl my through a dry tandoori chicken but at heart I’m a big creamy-buttery-sauce-with-almonds kind of guy.
And if you had to choose just one accompaniment, would it be rice or naan?
Peshwari naan for the win. There is NOTHING, I repeat NOTHING that beats the sweet and sour of a very sweet naan where the fruit, the sugar and the almonds spill out onto the main curry plate. Again with the almonds. What’s that about? Was I never given enough almonds as a child?
Could we trouble you for an anecdote – a beloved curry-related memory? I was in Mister Singh’s one night with Scottish comedy writer and columnist of note Rikki Brown. We had invited our showbiz columnist pal and "Scotland’s prettiest ginger girl" Martel Maxwell along but she called that evening to say she was in bed with the flu. After a mixed tandoori starter none other than the popular musical combo Take That walked in, fresh from a gig at the SECC. I have checked the internet and it would appear this was probably after their Ultimate Tour of 2006 AKA the Welcome Back Take That tour. (No Robbie)
I texted Martel the message: "hahaha Take That in Mister Singh’s, bet you’re REALLY sick now!" Within seven minutes the door burst open and a perfectly made-up Martel Maxwell sashays in wearing a dress that made her look "pretty AND available". After a brief hello to Rikki she batters right onto Take That’s table, gets the quotes, gets the pictures, gets the job DONE. Then sits down and finishes off our food.
Now THAT is how you keep a media career in the pink.
Where’s the most exotic place you've had a curry?Not a curry as such but I did have spicy pig-blood stew in Pampanga, Philippines during the Crucify Me documentary. I was guest of honour in the village and was sleeping in a hut in the garden of the chief of police. I awoke in the morning to the sound of thudding. I opened the door wearing just my pants to be greeted by the sight of a gaggle of lovely Philippino mums hacking a whole pig to bits with choppers and whatnot, gleefully pulling its intestines out in the baking sun. They cooked the meal in the pig’s blood with spices, hence the name. As guest of honour I had to sit that evening and eat it PLUS ask for seconds. I’m sure over time I would have acquired a taste but back then it was a culinary crucifixion.
Can you actually make a decent curry yourself at home?
Nope. I have still to find a decent recipe. Nigel Slater's are nice but taste nothing like curry shop curries. I can make a cracking Thai curry though.
Can the TATTGOC brotherhood come round for our tea?
Yes, if you bring a takeway from ANY Glasgow curryhouse. There are NO Indian restaurants on the South Shore of Nova Scotia. My wife is a dab hand at Indonesian curries but I swear I have only had one curry in the last 18 months, and that was store-bought in a jar and pish. The life of an immigrant is hard.
If you could enjoy a curry dinner-for-two with anyone, alive or dead, who would it be?
Judas Iscariot. To ask him how much of Jesus Christ Superstar is based on fact.
And finally, you've got a new book out called Celtic & Me – could you give us a thali-style taster of what it's about? And what compelled you to write it now? I approached a publisher about doing a book about my new life in Nova Scotia – the whole back-to-basics stuff on the fledgling farm etc. They said it didn’t feel like the story had an end point yet and instead asked if I wanted to write a book about my life as a Celtic fan. Having turned 40 and emigrated I have closed the box on the first half of my life so I thought – let’s do it. Let’s get all that stuff written down now.
So what’s it about? It is not your standard dull sports book: on this day we went to this match and Henrik wore shorts. It’s about my complicated relationship with Celtic Football Club and the effect that had on my increasingly-complicated life. How you can be a seemingly indestructible guy in your 20s talking a lot of ill-thought-out stuff on live national radio and not giving a fuck but going slightly mad underneath because you know you’re really not built for this stuff. Then you end up living in Glasgow years later with young kids and a very public face and the trouble that causes.
It’s about how depression, insomnia, recreational partying and Sectarianism can nearly kill you, but God and family can step in and save you. But it’s funny rather than whiney. And there are funny stories involving famous people and bands and how Scotland had the greatest music radio station in the history of the world ever and the suits ruined it.
And it’s about kebabs. Lots of kebabs.
Cheers Dominik! And big thanks to all the Legends who gave up their time to talk curry with the Tramps ... we'll always remember that spicy summer of 2010 ...
PREVIOUSLY ON PILAU TALK: THE LEGENDS
Tom Shields
Fred MacAulay
Ian Cowie aka Mr Snax
Diner Tec
Roy Beers
Iain Banks
Norman Blake
Tam Cowan
Some Pilau Talk With ... Norman Blake!
Everyone in the TATTGOC brotherhood loves curry – we even have an award that says so! But surely we could still learn a thing or two from other prominent curry lovers? And maybe even go round to their house for tea? In the special summer series we're calling Pilau Talk: The Legends, Trampy and The Tramp will be asking well-kent faces to recommend some of their favourite curry haunts and recall some of their most memorable spicy experiences. Next up is Norman Blake, founder member of Teenage Fanclub who recently released the amazing album Shadows. The band are touring the USA and Europe over the next few months, finishing up with a sure-to-be-raucous hometown show at the Barrowlands on December 12. Over to Norman ...What are some of your favourite Glasgow curryhouses, past or present?
The original Wee Curry Shop on Buccleuch Street has always been great, that and Mother India would be my current favourites. Used to frequent the Shenaz next to the Mitchell Library quite a bit. We were quite friendly with the people who owned that for a while and held some band meetings in there.
And your favourite Glasgow curry takeaway?
The Sheerin Palace on Allison Street in the South side have incredibly authentic dishes. The chickpea dish in particular is very good. Most of their dishes are very hot in the spice department. It's very small and I usually just get the takeaway. It has a growing reputation and I love it.
What’s your all-time favourite curry dish, the one to which you always return?
Chilli Garlic Chicken is a great favourite of mine. I like the cleanness that the combination of garlic and chilli brings to the dish – also, they don't overpower the chicken.
And if you had to choose just one accompaniment, would it be rice or naan?
Rice every time. Although I am partial to a peshwari naan.
Could we trouble you for an anecdote – a beloved curry-related memory?Sadly I can't bring one of my own to mind. I remember Raymond from the band telling me that he once saw a guy in the Shenaz asking the waiter for "a meal". When the waiter asked him if he would prefer chicken or beef or something spicy or mild, the guy said "look, just bring me a meal". That has always amused me.
Where’s the most exotic place you've had a curry?
I'm thinking that it would have to have been on the island of Hawaii when we were touring around 1993.
Can you actually make a decent curry yourself at home?
No. I have tried on numerous occasions but just can't seem to get the spice and seasoning blend right. As an aside, Alan McGee's sister makes a very, very decent curry.
Can the TATTGOC brotherhood come round for our tea?
I can throw together a decent pizza if that would be an acceptable alternative.
If you could enjoy a curry dinner-for-two with anyone, alive or dead, who would it be?Napoleon Bonaparte. He would have a tale or two to tell.
And finally, we know that Teenage Fanclub split songwriting duties equally – but are things just as democratic when the curry bill arrives?
Absolutely! I have enjoyed numerous Chilli Garlic Chickens on the group's coin ...
Cheers Norman! There are still a few legends to go in our celebratory series ... who will be next? Find out next Thursday ...
PREVIOUSLY ON PILAU TALK: THE LEGENDS
Tom Shields
Fred MacAulay
Ian Cowie aka Mr Snax
Diner Tec
Roy Beers
Iain Banks
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