Restaurant reviews by Justin Tanner, our retired food critic who isn’t sure about that Suella Braverman but can’t put his finger on why
THE British Empire gets a bad press. Yes, there were a few atrocities, but by and large it was benevolent and helpful. Indian restaurants are a fine example.
Would Indian food have made it around the world without us? Not bloody likely. It’s our patronage, which the world pays attention to because we know our shit, that’s taken it global. Bollywood’s not exactly travelled, I notice.
So Indian food’s basically English – chicken tikka masala was invented by a Brummie – and I feel right at home there. It’s the perfect location for my school reunion.
What I wasn’t expecting was for half the buggers there look like relics of the Raj. I know 40 years haven’t exactly been kind to me either, but come on. It’s a real collection of bald patches and big arses, and that’s just the men.
Hiding my disappointment at how they’ve let themselves go, I peruse the menu. Tandoori chicken? Balti? A nice jalfrezi?
The waiter’s got a weird accent but when I ask where in India he’s from, he says he’s Bangladeshi and anyway he’s from Dundee. Nobody else laughs.
Tom has gone for a korma. Bland shit with cream that’s barely had a glance at the spice rack. Sally has a lamb pasanada, as is appropriate for a lady, and she’s still fit as fuck.
In the end I order a chicken madras. I know my regional delicacies, and no-one can tell me this isn’t one. Besides, it’s proper hot and I want to show off. Martin trumps me with the vindaloo. Fair play mate, but I don’t fancy being your arse in the morning.
The conversation’s hard work. Most of our teachers have died. Everybody’s got grandchildren. I sink a few Cobras and skate over the subject of my career because it’s none of their bloody business.
Madras cleared, I have a word with Sally. She’s done well for herself but my guesses of hairdresser or PA are apparently well out of line. ‘I’m surprised you don’t recognise me,’ she says. Stripper?
‘Solicitor,’ she says. ‘I represented your wife in the divorce.’ Well that’s my evening fucked. Thanks a lot, India.
