BlueSkyNick
Well-Known Member
Is this the name of a scenic estuary in India, popular for boating ?
Maybe, but also its what I witnessed in a curry house last night.
I was corporately entertained to lunch in the City with Sir Clive Woodward and Eddie Jones (03 Aussie coach and now on the Springboks staff) as the guests. Very enlightening discussion chaired by Jill Douglas of BBC rugby fame - lovely girl.
Then off to a crappy little pub to watch crappy football, enough said about that, followed by a few more pints to drown our sorrows. Eventually got hungry and pished enough to go for a curry down Brick Lane (London's East End for the unaware - not too far from Albert Square).
I was sufficiently sensible to stick to the korma end of the menu. Another chap - from Yorkshire and a regular in Bradford - went for the vindaloo. He did say it was very good, although showed a few beads of sweat on the brow. The conversation moved on to the extremely hot stuff - Phaal - and without further ado, a portion was ordered. It took about half an hour to appear, so the chef must have made it from scratch.
The vindaloo eater had a fork full, as did two others, and a fourth just the tip of a teaspoon. Once again, I declined.
Within 30 seconds their faces were all in distress. The yorkshireman reckoned it was ridiculously hot (and the vindaloo wasnt?), one chap said his eyes were stinging so much it felt like they were bleeding, and the other two literally were speechless. As they made a grab for the cold water bottles, the waiter came running back out with four glasses of milk. Apparently this is much more effective than water.
I just sat there in a semi-drunken stupor thinking...... WHY? !! Even the inhabitants of deepest, darkest Asia can't find that appetising, can they?
Maybe, but also its what I witnessed in a curry house last night.
I was corporately entertained to lunch in the City with Sir Clive Woodward and Eddie Jones (03 Aussie coach and now on the Springboks staff) as the guests. Very enlightening discussion chaired by Jill Douglas of BBC rugby fame - lovely girl.
Then off to a crappy little pub to watch crappy football, enough said about that, followed by a few more pints to drown our sorrows. Eventually got hungry and pished enough to go for a curry down Brick Lane (London's East End for the unaware - not too far from Albert Square).
I was sufficiently sensible to stick to the korma end of the menu. Another chap - from Yorkshire and a regular in Bradford - went for the vindaloo. He did say it was very good, although showed a few beads of sweat on the brow. The conversation moved on to the extremely hot stuff - Phaal - and without further ado, a portion was ordered. It took about half an hour to appear, so the chef must have made it from scratch.
The vindaloo eater had a fork full, as did two others, and a fourth just the tip of a teaspoon. Once again, I declined.
Within 30 seconds their faces were all in distress. The yorkshireman reckoned it was ridiculously hot (and the vindaloo wasnt?), one chap said his eyes were stinging so much it felt like they were bleeding, and the other two literally were speechless. As they made a grab for the cold water bottles, the waiter came running back out with four glasses of milk. Apparently this is much more effective than water.
I just sat there in a semi-drunken stupor thinking...... WHY? !! Even the inhabitants of deepest, darkest Asia can't find that appetising, can they?
