Disappointment
We have been going to
Pooja in Wellingborough, the only authentic Indian restaurant in
Northamptonshire, for seven years or thereabouts; Phill will know as he
can recall every meal everyone has ever had in any restaurant anywhere
for the entire passage of time! In that time we have come to expect
somewhat haphazard service, but as the food eventually produced is
absolutely bonza, a few disruptions in the service continuum are no
problem.
Last night we went over there to spend some of Team Squonk's quiz
winnings, and, for the first time ever, I had to leave part of my main
course as it was inedible. The service was also of probably the worst
standard we have experienced too. The starters came out ok, roughly at
the same time, but the first thing I noticed was the over the top fiery
heat of Phill and I's trusted starter, the good old Chili Paneer. This
wasn't too much of a problem as that dish can be a bit variable
depending on the chef; it was ok is about all I can say.
Then our orders for the main courses were taken, and we waited.
And we waited. And we waited. In the meantime a family who had come in
after us had already been served, not good.
Forty minutes later the mains started to arrive, well
partly. Mrs P and Colin had no rice to go with their orders, Phill and I
had only one of the two noodle dishes we were going to share, but B did
at least get her dhosa. As the food that had arrived was lukewarm at
best, obviously having sat in the kitchen waiting to be taken out for
some time, we all decided to start eating it rather than wait for the
rest. The first noodle dish Phill and I shared was ok, if a tad greasy.
After about ten minutes, the rice and our second noodle dish arrived. On
taking the first mouthful I was definitely not expecting crunchy
noodles! The bloody things had either dried out and been reheated or not
cooked; judging by their appearance I'd guess the former.
Added to all this according to B the loos were in a dreadful
state. I refused to pay for the second noodle dish, and in hindsight, if
B and I had not been with Phill and his missus who are (were?) big fans
of the place I probably would have kicked off more and refused to pay
the bill at all. As B said, if that had been a first time experience for
any of us we would not be going back there again.
This slip in standards seems to have coincided with the departure
of manager Majood back to his native country. Come back Majood, we may
not ever have understood a word we were saying to one another, but you
sure knew how to do your job!
....
Denial
It's Sunday, so let's have a religious rant!
I come from a religious family, my parents and grandparents were all non-conformist Protestants of one kind or another, ranging from Methodists to Baptists to Congregationalists. My sole surviving aunt from my mum's side of the family is a Quaker, and a more lovely right-on person you could not hope to meet. In her eighties, she stayed with the anti-capitalist protestors outside St Pauls for a day last year, good on her! If had I still been persuaded by any form of organised Christian religion, this is the branch I would naturally have gravitated to. For those who do not know anything about Quakerism, suffice to say that since their formation in the mid 17th century they have come across as puritan inclined proto-hippies!
When I turned 14 my dad, obviously sensing my growing detachment from the family church, and the usual grunting teenage resentment at being dragged off to church and Sunday school every week told me that I was old enough to make up my own mind, and if I didn't want to come along any more, then fine. Huzzah for good old British lower middle class liberalism! So I stayed home, playing my obscure prog records on Sunday morning, and the rest as they say, is history.
This preamble is to illustrate that I do actually know what I'm talking about when it comes to Protestant Christian religion, and I would draw your attention to the debate raging at the National Trust's bizarre decision to include Creationist theory in their exhibits at the museum attached to the 60 million year old Giant's Causeway in Northern Ireland. This archaeological wonder is proven to be 60 million years old, that is an indisputable FACT.
Wallace Thompson, Chairman of the National Trust has this to say: "We fully accept the Trust's commitment to its position on how the
Causeway was formed, but this new centre both respects and acknowledges
an alternative viewpoint and the continuing debate, and that means it
will be a welcoming and enriching experience for all who visit." Why must they acknowledge an alternative viewpoint for an established fact, if not about how it was formed, then certainly about its age, the main crux of loony Creationist argument? If we let the NT get away with this woolly-headed political correctness-gone-mad thinking, then there will be calls for Creationist Theory to be taught in schools, God forbid! (I'm an agnostic, so I've every right to say God forbid...heheheh).
I'm sure if my parents were alive today they would have absolutely no truck with this movement of fuckwitted stupendous and downright dangerous ignorance; the latest unwanted import to our bedraggled Isle from across the pond.
The fact that this has is happening in Northern Ireland, a place where loony right wing Protestant extremism still exists only just under the surface of the now perceived normality of the place is no surprise.
If this dangerous chink in the armour of Brit common sense annoys you as much as it does me, join the FB group protesting against it.
...
Showing posts with label Food and Drink. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Food and Drink. Show all posts
8 Jul 2012
2 Jul 2011
BRCC - 1st Biannual Report
Formed out of a mutual love of spicy comestibles the BRCC was launched in February 2011 with a view to sampling the wares of the many curry houses here in Shoesville and its environs. At this point I would like to doff our collective titfers to our ancestors for taking control of Indian subcontinent from the Dutch and the French all those centuries ago, without whom etc etc!
Agenda Item 1
Founding members Vicky (logistics, conviviality) and me (treasurer, grumpy old bloke) decided on our first venue. This initial outing in March saw B & I, Mike & Chris and Vicky descend on The Maharaja, which is situated on the main drag into town.
The treasurer, being a curry snob, found the food ok, but nothing to write home about, hence this belated review. I always judge an English "Indian" restaurant, the majority of which are not actually run by Indians by the way, on the standard of their Onion Bhajis. A simple starter you may think, but one that takes some time to prepare. In a busy eaterie they are often pre-prepared rather than freshly made as a result, and this was the case at The Maharaja. Can you now see why I refer to myself as a grumpy old git? :)
After the meal we retired chez moi and proceeded to demolish some fine single malt. We ended the evening somewhat slightly pished. A fine time was had by all.
Agenda Item 2
The second outing was last night's visit to Vicky's choice The Imli Lounge, a mere fifteen leisurely minutes' stroll from our street. A-carousing and a-chattering eight of us (as Item 1 plus Pete, Dave & Mary) arrived at this small but friendly restaurant and Dave's first impressions took a dive when his daughter Mary was served with a flat lemonade. Luckily, and as far as I know, this was the only service cock up of the night.
There were some curious items on the menu, including some Bangladeshi specials, which was a nice touch. There were also some duck dishes on offer, and there was even a venison section! Venison Tikka Masalla anyone? No, I don't think so! Although we didn't have a starter this time, my Garlic Chicken was fine, and everyone else enjoyed their grub. Vicky and I agreed that it was better than The Maharaja. Mike talked the hind legs off the camel in the corner, so it fell over. I'm sure he'll agree!
Again retiring chez moi, some booze was drunk, albeit at a pace that the GMC would approve of. I think we were all a bit tired after a hard week working like dogs or whatever! I think Vicky now knows what camera to buy....or not.
Agenda Item 3
The next outing is planned for early October, and it's Mike's turn to pick the venue. Get that thunking cap on matey!
I now throw open the meeting to floor - if anyone has anything to say, shout, or mumble, kindly use the Comments box. If there's nowt to say, then I declare the meeting closed.
Agenda Item 1
Founding members Vicky (logistics, conviviality) and me (treasurer, grumpy old bloke) decided on our first venue. This initial outing in March saw B & I, Mike & Chris and Vicky descend on The Maharaja, which is situated on the main drag into town.
The treasurer, being a curry snob, found the food ok, but nothing to write home about, hence this belated review. I always judge an English "Indian" restaurant, the majority of which are not actually run by Indians by the way, on the standard of their Onion Bhajis. A simple starter you may think, but one that takes some time to prepare. In a busy eaterie they are often pre-prepared rather than freshly made as a result, and this was the case at The Maharaja. Can you now see why I refer to myself as a grumpy old git? :)
After the meal we retired chez moi and proceeded to demolish some fine single malt. We ended the evening somewhat slightly pished. A fine time was had by all.
Agenda Item 2
The second outing was last night's visit to Vicky's choice The Imli Lounge, a mere fifteen leisurely minutes' stroll from our street. A-carousing and a-chattering eight of us (as Item 1 plus Pete, Dave & Mary) arrived at this small but friendly restaurant and Dave's first impressions took a dive when his daughter Mary was served with a flat lemonade. Luckily, and as far as I know, this was the only service cock up of the night.
There were some curious items on the menu, including some Bangladeshi specials, which was a nice touch. There were also some duck dishes on offer, and there was even a venison section! Venison Tikka Masalla anyone? No, I don't think so! Although we didn't have a starter this time, my Garlic Chicken was fine, and everyone else enjoyed their grub. Vicky and I agreed that it was better than The Maharaja. Mike talked the hind legs off the camel in the corner, so it fell over. I'm sure he'll agree!
 |
| 50% of the BRCC - Pete's doing that trick where you make your head disappear! |
Again retiring chez moi, some booze was drunk, albeit at a pace that the GMC would approve of. I think we were all a bit tired after a hard week working like dogs or whatever! I think Vicky now knows what camera to buy....or not.
Agenda Item 3
The next outing is planned for early October, and it's Mike's turn to pick the venue. Get that thunking cap on matey!
I now throw open the meeting to floor - if anyone has anything to say, shout, or mumble, kindly use the Comments box. If there's nowt to say, then I declare the meeting closed.
23 Feb 2011
Shajahan - a very friendly Indian restaurant
Visiting friends in Kingsthorpe we decided on a visit to the Shajahan Restaurant in Kingsthorpe High Street, just off the beaten track, or Welford Road if you want to be more specific. We've eaten here before so we knew what to expect. The young front of house staff are all very friendly and helpful and the service is fast and efficient. We arrived around 7:30 and within 30 minutes the small but intimate eaterie was full, and was soon full of laughter.
Although what some would describe as another generic Anglicised Indian restaurant, some of which are best forgotten, I found the food at Shajahan well presented and rather tasty. For starters I had Aloo Chat, a lightly spiced potato pancake, followed by Chicken Rogan with Pilau Rice. My only criticism of the main course was a lack of chili, but then I've become used to authentic Southern Indian food over the years, which is much more fiery than its Anglicised "Indian" counterpart. My main course was still very tasty though, and to be honest made a nice change from the fare offered at our usual venue of choice.
B, who is not a fan of overly hot dishes, had Salmon Tikka Massala which looked great, and according to her was very tasty indeed. One of our friends had the hottest dish of the four of us, a lamb mince based dish called Lucknowi Keema, which I tasted, and although hot by the standards of the night, was about average on the heat scale compared to what I am used to.
A good night out, recommended for those of a more tender palate than mine, but I enjoyed it too! By no means expensive, and they operate a takeaway and delivery service too. I would say there is space for about 22 covers in one sitting, so if you are going out on a Friday or Saturday evening booking is advisable. Remember to bring your own alcoholic beverages.
Shajahan, 62 High Street, Kingsthorpe, Northampton, NN2 6QE
Tel: 01604 717500
Although what some would describe as another generic Anglicised Indian restaurant, some of which are best forgotten, I found the food at Shajahan well presented and rather tasty. For starters I had Aloo Chat, a lightly spiced potato pancake, followed by Chicken Rogan with Pilau Rice. My only criticism of the main course was a lack of chili, but then I've become used to authentic Southern Indian food over the years, which is much more fiery than its Anglicised "Indian" counterpart. My main course was still very tasty though, and to be honest made a nice change from the fare offered at our usual venue of choice.
B, who is not a fan of overly hot dishes, had Salmon Tikka Massala which looked great, and according to her was very tasty indeed. One of our friends had the hottest dish of the four of us, a lamb mince based dish called Lucknowi Keema, which I tasted, and although hot by the standards of the night, was about average on the heat scale compared to what I am used to.
A good night out, recommended for those of a more tender palate than mine, but I enjoyed it too! By no means expensive, and they operate a takeaway and delivery service too. I would say there is space for about 22 covers in one sitting, so if you are going out on a Friday or Saturday evening booking is advisable. Remember to bring your own alcoholic beverages.
Shajahan, 62 High Street, Kingsthorpe, Northampton, NN2 6QE
Tel: 01604 717500
9 Jan 2011
Is it a boat, or two-thirds of a pint?
A schooner is both the above. In Australia you can buy a glass of beer in a schooner, roughly two thirds of a pint. Our wonderful rulers have decided in their infinite wisdom that us befuddled consumers need more "choice" when buying a beer in a pub. We will still be able to buy pints and halves, but will soon be able to buy a schooner.
According to Science Minister David Willetts "We have listened to consumers and businesses. They have called for fixed quantities to be kept but with greater flexibility. That is what this change will deliver." Bollocks I say, and exactly what has science got to do with it? Why would anyone want to buy two thirds of a pint? Pubs need the extra cost of stocking schooner glasses like Alastair Cook needs batting tips from Ricky Ponting. What a dumb idea!
.............................................................................................
Phill tells me that as a result of atrophying for three months, he wore himself to a frazzle emptying a filing cabinet during a brief visit to what I believe is called "work", the poor lamb. Mind you I was overcome with dizzying exhaustion the other day after the physically arduous act of filing a Tax Return online....
.............................................................................................
Overheard street conversation...
Ugly 50 to 60 something unshaven chav bloke replete with hoody and tracky bottoms and can of Red Bull (see below) to "lady" friend, angrily.."...if I get meself alone in a room wiv 'er, I dunno, I might,...er well y'know I just dunno, but I won't be responsible." I guess not....
..............................................................................................
On his blog, Phill has highlighted the "plight" of local(ish) drain on NHS resources Paul Mason http://networkedblogs.com/cLcCR which makes me consider the amount of pointless sustenance there is for sale in every town in our sceptered isle. Here are a few examples:
Red Bull - Why would anyone want to drink something that smells, from a considerable distance away downwind, exactly like freshly heaved child's vomit? The only purpose of this evil whiffing brew seems to be to enable chavs to stay up longer while drinking voddy, thereby guaranteeing more fights in our town centres in the middle of the night. What fuckwit at the Food Standards Agency gave this shite a licence?
Burger chains (all of 'em) - I can proudly testify that the one and only time I have visited a certain chain "restaurant" was to take a long stinky dump in one of their Madrid outlets (in the loo, not the restaurant!), the after effects of enjoying local anchovy tapas the day before. I wish I had known the Spanish for "I'd leave it a while mate, if I were you".
Anyway, I digress. These ultimate expressions of capitalist homogeneity are more than partly responsible for the rapid destruction of Amazonian rain forest to enable the locals to herd cattle to initially feed the insatiable American, and later UK and the rest of the world's appetite for MSG enhanced gloop encased in what is loosely termed a bun. Even the discerning French have got these dreadful things in their cities. A pox on them all.
I doubt tracts of forest the size of Wales are disappearing each year to accommodate battery chicken farms, but those nugget things are vile too. A bucket of dry tasteless pieces of white meat probably farmed in the most horrible way imaginable encased in white hot deep fried congealed dandruff is not my cup of larks' vomit.
If you've had the good sense to turn down the litre of Coca-Cola that's inevitably offered to wash this shite down why not visit a chain coffee shop (sorry Will), yet another expression of bland utilitarianism. I recently visited a Starbucks, or it might have been a Costa Coffee, or Imperialist Fascist Republic or whatever, and asked for "A cup of coffee". The disinterested Eastern European minimum wage slave behind the counter then reeled off a list of progressively bizarre sounding combos of coffee, milk, chocolate, cream, frog spawn and hatstand. "No, I want a cup of coffee" I said in a doubtless bored fashion. B said "Sit down, I'll sort it out". I believe I had an Americano (Will can correct me if I'm wrong), which is a cup of coffee!
...............................................................................................
Stevenage, what a team!........
Have a good day. :)
According to Science Minister David Willetts "We have listened to consumers and businesses. They have called for fixed quantities to be kept but with greater flexibility. That is what this change will deliver." Bollocks I say, and exactly what has science got to do with it? Why would anyone want to buy two thirds of a pint? Pubs need the extra cost of stocking schooner glasses like Alastair Cook needs batting tips from Ricky Ponting. What a dumb idea!
.............................................................................................
Phill tells me that as a result of atrophying for three months, he wore himself to a frazzle emptying a filing cabinet during a brief visit to what I believe is called "work", the poor lamb. Mind you I was overcome with dizzying exhaustion the other day after the physically arduous act of filing a Tax Return online....
.............................................................................................
Overheard street conversation...
Ugly 50 to 60 something unshaven chav bloke replete with hoody and tracky bottoms and can of Red Bull (see below) to "lady" friend, angrily.."...if I get meself alone in a room wiv 'er, I dunno, I might,...er well y'know I just dunno, but I won't be responsible." I guess not....
..............................................................................................
On his blog, Phill has highlighted the "plight" of local(ish) drain on NHS resources Paul Mason http://networkedblogs.com/cLcCR which makes me consider the amount of pointless sustenance there is for sale in every town in our sceptered isle. Here are a few examples:
Red Bull - Why would anyone want to drink something that smells, from a considerable distance away downwind, exactly like freshly heaved child's vomit? The only purpose of this evil whiffing brew seems to be to enable chavs to stay up longer while drinking voddy, thereby guaranteeing more fights in our town centres in the middle of the night. What fuckwit at the Food Standards Agency gave this shite a licence?
Burger chains (all of 'em) - I can proudly testify that the one and only time I have visited a certain chain "restaurant" was to take a long stinky dump in one of their Madrid outlets (in the loo, not the restaurant!), the after effects of enjoying local anchovy tapas the day before. I wish I had known the Spanish for "I'd leave it a while mate, if I were you".
Anyway, I digress. These ultimate expressions of capitalist homogeneity are more than partly responsible for the rapid destruction of Amazonian rain forest to enable the locals to herd cattle to initially feed the insatiable American, and later UK and the rest of the world's appetite for MSG enhanced gloop encased in what is loosely termed a bun. Even the discerning French have got these dreadful things in their cities. A pox on them all.
I doubt tracts of forest the size of Wales are disappearing each year to accommodate battery chicken farms, but those nugget things are vile too. A bucket of dry tasteless pieces of white meat probably farmed in the most horrible way imaginable encased in white hot deep fried congealed dandruff is not my cup of larks' vomit.
If you've had the good sense to turn down the litre of Coca-Cola that's inevitably offered to wash this shite down why not visit a chain coffee shop (sorry Will), yet another expression of bland utilitarianism. I recently visited a Starbucks, or it might have been a Costa Coffee, or Imperialist Fascist Republic or whatever, and asked for "A cup of coffee". The disinterested Eastern European minimum wage slave behind the counter then reeled off a list of progressively bizarre sounding combos of coffee, milk, chocolate, cream, frog spawn and hatstand. "No, I want a cup of coffee" I said in a doubtless bored fashion. B said "Sit down, I'll sort it out". I believe I had an Americano (Will can correct me if I'm wrong), which is a cup of coffee!
...............................................................................................
Stevenage, what a team!........
Have a good day. :)
18 Dec 2010
The best Thai eaterie in town!
My birthday meal out this year was eaten in the friendly atmosphere of The Thai Nam Tip, Marefair, Northampton. Translating as "Food of the Angels", a fittingly apt name given the delightful food on offer, we've been there a handful of times before and it has been my favourite restaurant for a few years now. It is a small venue, probably catering for no more than 20 covers, and the atmosphere is fittingly intimate. Unlike some Thai restaurants we've frequented in the past, there is no fear of an order being lost in translation, as the front of house is a personable English gent and his Thai wife runs the kitchen, both fulfilling their roles with some style I might add.
Starters include the delicious Thai fishcakes, and their spring rolls are lovely and crispy, with simply the best sweet chili dip I've ever had. Being a creature of habit, once I find a dish I really like in any restaurant I normally stick with it, this night being no different. I simply adore their yellow curry, which can be had in a number of guises. The sauce, while tantalisingly spicy is not too hot, and the flavours are divine. Mine was the chicken variety, which comes with potatoes and carrots. Next up the heat scale is the green curry, and then the red curry. The sauces in all these are marvellously tasty. I can also recommend the chili chicken, but be warned - it is very hot! You can of course ask for it to be toned down, but I like to enter into the spirit of the cuisine I eat.
Our dining companions were vegetarian, and there is a large selection available for those of the non-carnivorous persuasion.
Go on, treat yourself...
19 Marefair, Northampton, NN1 1SR, Tel 01604 628888
Starters include the delicious Thai fishcakes, and their spring rolls are lovely and crispy, with simply the best sweet chili dip I've ever had. Being a creature of habit, once I find a dish I really like in any restaurant I normally stick with it, this night being no different. I simply adore their yellow curry, which can be had in a number of guises. The sauce, while tantalisingly spicy is not too hot, and the flavours are divine. Mine was the chicken variety, which comes with potatoes and carrots. Next up the heat scale is the green curry, and then the red curry. The sauces in all these are marvellously tasty. I can also recommend the chili chicken, but be warned - it is very hot! You can of course ask for it to be toned down, but I like to enter into the spirit of the cuisine I eat.
Our dining companions were vegetarian, and there is a large selection available for those of the non-carnivorous persuasion.
Go on, treat yourself...
19 Marefair, Northampton, NN1 1SR, Tel 01604 628888
14 Nov 2010
An authentic taste of India
My best friends are two of those visitors from planet veggie, and, as they will freely admit, fussy with it. I do have some sympathy, as why should they suffer the inevitable vegetable lasagne or mushroom stroganoff, while B & I have a veritable smorgasbord of deelites to chose from in comparison whenever we all visit eateries that supposedly also cater for the vegetarian?
So, whenever B & I and Phill & his "missus" go out as foursome to a restaurant we invariably end up at Pooja, an authentic Hindi vegetarian restaurant in Wellingborough. Run with an easy going charm by your host Majood (apologies for probable incorrect spelling), Pooja, meaning "worship", was originally and still does derive it's main income from a catering business, serving a substantial local Indian population, and supplying numerous curry houses in the area. The restaurant was started when the owners decided to recreate the home cooking that they missed over here, knowing a large Hindi community lived on their doorstep.
Upon arrival be prepared to be underwhelmed by the location - seemingly a room stuck on the end of the catering business as an afterthought, next to a car wash! The service is friendly, but can be a bit haphazard, and the larger your party, the more hit and miss it becomes. Don't be put off though, because the food is well worth any occasional gripes with the service. The restaurant is usually full of mainly Indian families and can get rather noisy, but that just lends to the atmosphere. You'll need to book at weekends.
Me and Phill usually share one starter, and our partners usually share another. Ours is the simply scrummy Chili Paneer (should be obvious) mopped up with Mogo Chips (wonderful chips made from cassava root). My main course now varies between three staples - in no particular order of preference, firstly we have Kadai Bengun Aloo, which actually does not appear on the online menu below, but I know it as "No.74" from the restaurant menu. It is essentially a potato & aubergine curry - exquisite! Those of you more familiar with the ubiquitous Anglicised curry houses that abound in our towns will probably be unfamiliar with at least some of the dishes. The cryptic descriptions do not give much away either. My favourite is "Indian cheese with mixed gravy" (Paneer Kadai). This is a derivative of "No.74" where the cheese replaces the potato. Their conception of "gravy" is not at all similar to ours!
My second "staple" is the less filling but still very tasty Rava Onion Masala Dhosa (onions and potatoes and spices in an Indian pancake). The Dhosa pancake in the South Indian section of the menu is a house speciality and needs to be tried. Thirdly comes Hakka Noodles from the China Gate fusion section of the menu. For once the description "Noodles with vegetables in sauce" is fairly accurate, but does not really do it justice.
We never have room for desserts, but Pooja is well known for its seemingly infinite variety of Indian sweets, which you can buy over the counter to take away.
This is the menu, also available on a takeaway basis. The prices maybe a bit out of date (Majood should be told!), but if you add 30p to everything, you're about there, and it sure is value for money:
http://www.poojacaterers.co.uk/menu.htm
If you love Indian food, try the real thing, not the Anglicised version, and you will be pleasantly surprised by the taste explosion that awaits your tongue. Pooja does not rely on making everything taste largely the same as is the case with the usual High Street curry house, nor does it assume that the English only think a curry is "real" if it's so chili hot it blows your tongue clean out of your head. It doesn't have to you see, because the majority of its clientele are Indian. The emphasis is on flavour, not chili heat, although of course some dishes are hotter than others.
All in all a thoroughly wonderful tastebud experience, well worth a visit even for us carnivores!
So, whenever B & I and Phill & his "missus" go out as foursome to a restaurant we invariably end up at Pooja, an authentic Hindi vegetarian restaurant in Wellingborough. Run with an easy going charm by your host Majood (apologies for probable incorrect spelling), Pooja, meaning "worship", was originally and still does derive it's main income from a catering business, serving a substantial local Indian population, and supplying numerous curry houses in the area. The restaurant was started when the owners decided to recreate the home cooking that they missed over here, knowing a large Hindi community lived on their doorstep.
Upon arrival be prepared to be underwhelmed by the location - seemingly a room stuck on the end of the catering business as an afterthought, next to a car wash! The service is friendly, but can be a bit haphazard, and the larger your party, the more hit and miss it becomes. Don't be put off though, because the food is well worth any occasional gripes with the service. The restaurant is usually full of mainly Indian families and can get rather noisy, but that just lends to the atmosphere. You'll need to book at weekends.
Me and Phill usually share one starter, and our partners usually share another. Ours is the simply scrummy Chili Paneer (should be obvious) mopped up with Mogo Chips (wonderful chips made from cassava root). My main course now varies between three staples - in no particular order of preference, firstly we have Kadai Bengun Aloo, which actually does not appear on the online menu below, but I know it as "No.74" from the restaurant menu. It is essentially a potato & aubergine curry - exquisite! Those of you more familiar with the ubiquitous Anglicised curry houses that abound in our towns will probably be unfamiliar with at least some of the dishes. The cryptic descriptions do not give much away either. My favourite is "Indian cheese with mixed gravy" (Paneer Kadai). This is a derivative of "No.74" where the cheese replaces the potato. Their conception of "gravy" is not at all similar to ours!
My second "staple" is the less filling but still very tasty Rava Onion Masala Dhosa (onions and potatoes and spices in an Indian pancake). The Dhosa pancake in the South Indian section of the menu is a house speciality and needs to be tried. Thirdly comes Hakka Noodles from the China Gate fusion section of the menu. For once the description "Noodles with vegetables in sauce" is fairly accurate, but does not really do it justice.
We never have room for desserts, but Pooja is well known for its seemingly infinite variety of Indian sweets, which you can buy over the counter to take away.
This is the menu, also available on a takeaway basis. The prices maybe a bit out of date (Majood should be told!), but if you add 30p to everything, you're about there, and it sure is value for money:
http://www.poojacaterers.co.uk/menu.htm
If you love Indian food, try the real thing, not the Anglicised version, and you will be pleasantly surprised by the taste explosion that awaits your tongue. Pooja does not rely on making everything taste largely the same as is the case with the usual High Street curry house, nor does it assume that the English only think a curry is "real" if it's so chili hot it blows your tongue clean out of your head. It doesn't have to you see, because the majority of its clientele are Indian. The emphasis is on flavour, not chili heat, although of course some dishes are hotter than others.
All in all a thoroughly wonderful tastebud experience, well worth a visit even for us carnivores!
5 Sept 2010
Hopping Mad
The Queen Adelaide Beer Festival was visited last night by Phill & Roger, or The Two Boys Of The Beer.
The QA is a truly fine venue, my current favourite pub in town. Knowledgeable and friendly host Paul and his lovely wife Krystyna presiding over 29 barrels of fine ales (and a few ciders) from all over the UK, including Valhalla Ales from the spectacularly remote isle of Unst in the Shetlands, the most northerly island in the UK. So remote is this place that you can't get any definition on Google maps below about 30000 feet!
Located in a marquee in the pub garden the festival was already in full cry when we arrived at around 7:45 ish. Amongst the ales tried were Alederflower, a fine distinctive hoppy ale, Simmer Dim from the aforementioned Valhalla Brewery - very nice mellow light ale that obviously travels well, Photon cask lager (a lager that actually tastes of something by jove!), Gravitas from Buckinghamshire's Vale Brewery - this is a long time staple usually imbibed at the now sadly neglected Victoria Inn in Northampton on pub quiz nights, but it tasted better here! Also Apache which was refreshing and very nice, and the stonkingly named Verbal Viagra, and Dursley Steam Bitter, a good session ale. There were a few others but our** memory ain't what it was. Who are you again??!
**thanks to Phill for remembering about half of the above beer names for me!**
If you're reading this today (Sunday 5th), the festival is still on, so get yourselves over to sunny Kingsthorpe for a few halfs of Britain's finest!
The QA is a truly fine venue, my current favourite pub in town. Knowledgeable and friendly host Paul and his lovely wife Krystyna presiding over 29 barrels of fine ales (and a few ciders) from all over the UK, including Valhalla Ales from the spectacularly remote isle of Unst in the Shetlands, the most northerly island in the UK. So remote is this place that you can't get any definition on Google maps below about 30000 feet!
Located in a marquee in the pub garden the festival was already in full cry when we arrived at around 7:45 ish. Amongst the ales tried were Alederflower, a fine distinctive hoppy ale, Simmer Dim from the aforementioned Valhalla Brewery - very nice mellow light ale that obviously travels well, Photon cask lager (a lager that actually tastes of something by jove!), Gravitas from Buckinghamshire's Vale Brewery - this is a long time staple usually imbibed at the now sadly neglected Victoria Inn in Northampton on pub quiz nights, but it tasted better here! Also Apache which was refreshing and very nice, and the stonkingly named Verbal Viagra, and Dursley Steam Bitter, a good session ale. There were a few others but our** memory ain't what it was. Who are you again??!
**thanks to Phill for remembering about half of the above beer names for me!**
Here's a suitably blurry pic from the QA Facebook page:
4 May 2010
The Bryden Two-Step
Me & PH went to a decidedly average beer fest held in our present hostelry of choice, the Victoria Inn last Saturday night. We walked home from t'pub in a freezing downpour, about 1.75 miles all told. No problemo for yours truly as I walk everywhere, being one of those weird people who don't drive. However since stumbling out of bed on Sunday morning (remarkably headache free-ish) my right knee has been giving me all kinds of grief, to the point where I now find it f**king painful going up and particularly down stairs.
I can't remember it hurting at all on the march home, but that may have been the cumulative numbing effects of beer. Maybe I should take my kneecap off and have a quick poke about with a screwdriver? Suggestions on a postcard please.
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The current trend for male office workers of all ages to shuffle about tie-less really bugs me for some reason. Being a lifelong desk troll, I have always worn a tie to work, unless the weather is very warm. Now I can get used to not wearing a tie if just in shirt sleeves, but what I don't like is these lazy bleeders wearing jackets on top of a shirt with no tie. To my jaundiced eyes, it simply looks scruffy, like you've left the house in such a hurry you've forgotten to finish getting dressed.
Cameron & Clegg are both guilty of this but Brown at least makes the effort to put a tie on. Bill Turnbull on BBC Breakfast News is another highline culprit. You'd think at his age he'd know better.
Support the tie making industry now - PUT A TIE ON!!
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Now this is going to sound sexist, but I can assure you it is a fact. As pointed out above, due to a complete lcak of hnad eye cooridantion I don't drive, so I walk to work every day. This involves crossing a lot of side roads coming off the main thoroughfare to town. I'd say about 50% of the time some kind soul will wave you across, and I acknowledge their courtesy with a wave.
Here comes the sexist bit - 9 times out of 10 the driver letting you cross is a man. Given that we're talking school run time here, when probably at least half the drivers are female, this is disproportionately weighted in favour of the bloke, doncha think? Sometimes you can look a driver in the eye and he (mostly it is) will slow down and wave you across, but women? No chance. They seem to have tunnel vision and either don't see you, or if you mistakenly think they are waving you across will then attempt to turn you into roadkill, and proceed to blame you for daring to step into their path!! OK - I have got sexist now, but the general premise holds I'm afraid.
......................................
An unemployed Latvian astro-physicist told me the chavs killed Michael Jackson.
Vote for The Rubbish Party - liking beer since 1975.
......................................
I can't remember it hurting at all on the march home, but that may have been the cumulative numbing effects of beer. Maybe I should take my kneecap off and have a quick poke about with a screwdriver? Suggestions on a postcard please.
......................................................
The current trend for male office workers of all ages to shuffle about tie-less really bugs me for some reason. Being a lifelong desk troll, I have always worn a tie to work, unless the weather is very warm. Now I can get used to not wearing a tie if just in shirt sleeves, but what I don't like is these lazy bleeders wearing jackets on top of a shirt with no tie. To my jaundiced eyes, it simply looks scruffy, like you've left the house in such a hurry you've forgotten to finish getting dressed.
Cameron & Clegg are both guilty of this but Brown at least makes the effort to put a tie on. Bill Turnbull on BBC Breakfast News is another highline culprit. You'd think at his age he'd know better.
Support the tie making industry now - PUT A TIE ON!!
.......................................................
Now this is going to sound sexist, but I can assure you it is a fact. As pointed out above, due to a complete lcak of hnad eye cooridantion I don't drive, so I walk to work every day. This involves crossing a lot of side roads coming off the main thoroughfare to town. I'd say about 50% of the time some kind soul will wave you across, and I acknowledge their courtesy with a wave.
Here comes the sexist bit - 9 times out of 10 the driver letting you cross is a man. Given that we're talking school run time here, when probably at least half the drivers are female, this is disproportionately weighted in favour of the bloke, doncha think? Sometimes you can look a driver in the eye and he (mostly it is) will slow down and wave you across, but women? No chance. They seem to have tunnel vision and either don't see you, or if you mistakenly think they are waving you across will then attempt to turn you into roadkill, and proceed to blame you for daring to step into their path!! OK - I have got sexist now, but the general premise holds I'm afraid.
......................................
An unemployed Latvian astro-physicist told me the chavs killed Michael Jackson.
Vote for The Rubbish Party - liking beer since 1975.
......................................
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