In all my years of eating Indian food, I think I have found it. Yes, the worlds worst curry house.
I hear good things about this place, and was told it was worth the wait.
So wait we did.
And we received poppadoms to ease the wait. I believe the first indication to a decent curry house, is the poppadom. This reflects the quality of fat used in the rest of the cookery.
Now, unless they were one of those Patak pre-packed poppadoms, they were indeed acceptable, and a sure sign of the culinary treat being stirred up in the kitchens.
But then the dips, I think they were dips, possibly sheep dips, may have been possibly come into being via the rectum of the lord Satan himself. Vile, vile, vile.
Anyway, not a 100% start, but forgiveable.
Then we waited. Again.
Then the curry came. Just as a 5 o'clock shadow started to develop.
When I say curry, I use the term loosely. Lets call the Jalfrezi I had a 'chicken in some kinda funky gravy' affair. I when I say chicken, I think I mean mechanically recovered chicken. I dunno, was it chicken? I took a bite out of it, and I believe I spat out shrapnel. Man, it might of been the victim of a drive-by. It didn't even smell right. And the heat. I have had hotter life-savers than this tawdry imbroglio of this culinary faux-pas that sat there, festering away in front of my very eyes. There was no indication of spice, or even heat of the radiative kind that is required since the dawn of time, to perform the art of cooking. No heat of any kind. The vegetables were peppers and other stuff, they seemed to be on the crispy side, as if they had been forgotten and thrown in at the last moment.
Then there was a Naan bread. I think it may of been made out of someones nan, or at least warmed up to a temperature suitably upsetting enough that it may of actually been warmed up by somebody's nan's armpit, with extra old folk sweat to top off what can only be described as an odour reminisecent of twice used cold dishwater from a hostel for the culinary disadvantaged. It was a garlic Naan, definitely was a garlic Naan, since subtlety had abandoned it totally and had actually become the French national garlic Naan memorial. Inedible.
The rice was that yellow stuff. I thought it was sticky rice, then it dawned on me. This is a curry house that can't get rice right. Where in hell am I? Is this candid camera?
I asked for the bill several times, and actually waited longer to receive it than it took me to eat it (I feel I'm generous by saying I ate it, I kinda put it in my mouth and let it fall to my lower intestine where I am sure it will turn into something more edible than what it was before), and left suitably pissed off beyond belief.
However, the staff were pleasant enough. Sorry about the harsh review.
On the dips, sorry to say, I lied. I'm sure Satan hole probably tastes sweeter than them, and at least it would probably have a bit of heat in it.