Shopping and the Brass Rail and Bodean’s

I hate shopping. I really do, especially when it involves shopping for clothes. I hate having to buy new clothes, especially when the clothes I want are way out of my price range. Damn those Italian shoes. Then again, wasn’t that why credit cards were invented?

I need energy to go shopping. So I always plan where can I get some well needed nourishment for the hellish day ahead.

I’d spent most of Saturday mapping out our new locale of Nappy Valley, or Stoke Newington as some people also know it by.

The thing I love is once you hit Stoke Newington High Street and then onto Kingsland Road, is the amount of small bakeries that sell salt beef. It’s glorious. Praise the lord for my murky Jewish heritage.

There is nothing I love more than a salt beef sandwich. It’s heaven, pure bloody heaven. I’m not a bagel man, even after my 18 months in Israel I never got a taste for them. Just not my thing. Remember I am a new Jew, so can be forgiven for many a hidden sin. But I am going to enjoy living in Stokie, even if it has a far higher percentage of young families than any other place on the planet. I am going to have to learn how to be patient. Big time.

As I hate shopping, a department store gives me everything I need. A one stop shop with everything inside one building. A genius who came up with that that idea.

Now as I still had the delightful taste and memories of my salt beef day the day before, I had been trying to find an excuse to re-visit the Brass Rail on the ground floor of Selfridges for an age now. Now I had one. Excellent, well apart from the thought of the shopping.

I hadn’t eaten here in at least 3 years, as whenever we come to Selfridges the queues were just too long for us to bother queuing up for. But this time there was only some chatty guy in front of me who wouldn’t stop yabbering on to anyone who made eye contact with him. Thankfully before he had time to turn to me and start trying to get me into conversation about whatever, he found himself front of Saj, who apparently according to their conversation had worked there for over 30 years. Damn, that’s a long time to be carving meat into sandwiches. I wonder if he just wants to say fuck it some days and look for another job.

I don’t remember how much they used to be but £8 for a sarnie is a tad too much, but I had been thinking about this for a day now, and the thought of being forced to eat at Square Pie that I decided to go for it.

So I ordered a regular salt beef with American mustard and a pickle. You pay through the nose, all in all it came to £8.70p, but Saj does pile on that salt beef.

I sat well away from the chatty guy who was engaged in a one sided conversation with some old lady who made the bad mistake on sitting on that empty table. She looked like she was ready to bolt, but was far too polite to do so.

The salt beef although quite tasty was somehow a bit of a let down. The meat was kind of dry and not what I was expecting.

I’d spent £3.50p on a salt beef roll the day before and it was miles better than this poor and pretty expensive version. But you are in Selfridges, so I guess it all goes down to location, location, location.

After leaving a rather disappointing sarnie, I ventured upstairs to do some clothes shopping. In record breaking time I found everything I wanted, but as it all came to well over a £1,000 I declined to open my wallet and get out that small piece of plastic. Plus it would have looked embarrassing with all the moths flying out as I went to pay. Damn those Italian handmade leather shoes. So I high tailed it out of there and off to a few more shops down the most hideous street on the planet. In the end I saw lots of stuff I should of brought, but just couldn’t prise that wallet open. The crappy thing about this shopping disaster was that I have to return and do it all over again, but I will do it next time with my own personal shopping and designer assistant.

As I said shopping or even window shopping is hard work. After another hour or so of aimlessly wandering around with my hands tightly clenched over that piece of leather, I ended up outside Bodean’s in Soho.

I love Bar-B-Q. I look upon those grill masters as what they are. Masters of the grill. Grilling or bar-b-q’ing is an art form, plus it is an obsession to some. Look at Barbecue Bible to see what I mean.

I love Bodean’s, although nowadays I won’t go downstairs as the last time me and Lina were there, we had a blazing row over a bowl of chips. They were mine, I ate them. She had none. We argued. Simple. But what started out as a fun night in Lowlander drinking Kwak’s, ended up as a heated row and us not speaking to each other for days, and all over me eating my own chips and not offering her any. Like Joey says “You want chips, order some chips, just don’t eat mine.”  Nuff said.

So for at least 4 years, maybe more we haven’t delved downstairs into the scene of that heated argument, such bad memories. I wonder if that argument has been passed onto to waitresses over the years. So since then we’ve only eaten upstairs in the deli. Lina doesn’t like it, as she thinks it’s cheap and naff. I like it, I actually prefer it, it’s more relaxed, more lively and gives me a chance to people watch. My fave pastime.

So this given Sunday afternoon I strolled into Bodean’s for some bar-b-q nourishment to wipe away the memory of my tightness at not buying anything all day. What a tight arse.

I normally always have ½ a slab of those baby back ribs with the coleslaw and fries. Sometimes I treat myself to a tub of bar-b-q beans. But this time I just wanted a sandwich, as the salt beef had slightly done its job. Now I needed something else to finish it off.

Looking down the list of their sandwiches, I was at a loss. Now do I go for the Boston Butt, the slow smoked cooked pork shoulder. Or the Pulled Pork, or even the Pastrami on Rye or a Turkey BLT. But no, I had to have the Soho Special. The Best Sandwich in London as voted by Capital Radio. It’s pulled pork and Burnt Ends mixed with a Bar-B-Q sauce in a toasted roll. Sounded too good to be true.

To be honest it isn’t the best sandwich in London I’ve ever had. But it was not the worst. The burnt ends and pulled pork were favourable enough, but the sauce was a little too thin. But it was ok for what I wanted.

I’ve noticed something about Bodean’s. The times I’ve eaten there since returning last March, that the quality of the food has slipped from what I remember it from before Colombia. Maybe this is due to their sudden expansion all over London, stretching themselves too thin. Or maybe I am just getting more and more picky in my old age. God I hope it isn’t the later, as soon I won’t be enjoying my fave crappy foods.

But Bodean’s I will always return to like a duck to water, as I love Bar-B-Q.

Brunch @ Café Provencal

We or maybe it was just me, who was keener on living around Herne Hill that we came back for a second visit for some more flat hunting.

It’s just unfortunate again that the estate agents kept showing us flats that were available to move into the following week, even though we kept telling them that we cannot move until the end of March. Useless bastards.

Whilst we were waiting in between what turned out to be a wasted day visiting flats that wouldn’t be available at the end of March. We decided to have a quick bite in Café Provencal, a small friendly joint underneath the railway bridge.

I liked this small café, the staff are nice and friendly, it’s a bit quirky, which I always like in small places. They exhibit plenty of art and photographs, I imagine done by the local people of Herne Hill. It’s nice that there are places where people can exhibit their art and also try and get it sold as well.

We both ordered the full English breakfast as looking at flats is pretty damn exhausting, and we had two more to see that afternoon.

The food was pretty good, even though the tatties were a tad charred, though not overcooked, the rest of the brekkie was fine though, and gave us a well-needed energy booster. Nice eggs, nice sausage and good bacon.

It wasn’t the best breakfast I’ve ever eaten and it wasn’t the worst, but it was perfect for that particular moment in time.

The place seemed pretty popular as loads of people were coming in and making reservations for that night. We also kept seeing loads of young families coming in and we kept wondering where they kept putting them. It turns out there is a separate kiddies area for families. Phew, I was dreading having a screaming kid and his hyper active older brother ruining my Saturday brunch time meal. Got to love a place like this, that knows that no one wants to eat near kids.

I was really imagining us living here in Herne Hill. Unfortunately one of us wasn’t. I think it was the ineptness of the estate agents that was putting her off. We were also up against the wall here, as one of us was off to Colombia at the start of March, and we really wanted to get a place before she left, as we were either gonna end up in any old place out of pure desperation. Or we would end up in some shithole that I chose whilst she was away. Neither option was good, although the first option would be down to Lina’s fault not mine, unlike the second one which would rest on my poor shoulders for up to one year. She would never say something, but I would know, the anger would simmer for ages, nothing being said, but tensions would be there.

That’s why just before she pottered off to a warm 2 weeks in Medellin, a place came up in Stokie. She saw it, sent me a text and took it. I’ve seen it form the outside but not inside. That I get to, do when we pick the keys up and the end of this month.

So we shall see what culinary delights that Stoke Newington and Dalston have to offer me. Even though I kinda know it a little. This does mean that Mangals is now even closer to us than ever before. Rock on.

Foto Friday # 40

I do, I do, I really bloody do.
I'm having an Argentina moment here, so just ignore me.

A trio of Gastros, amongst flat hunting in Herne Hill

Our main reason for wanting to move is to basically save money. Living in Highbury is fantastic, but it sure weighs down heavy on the wallet.

We had heard a wicked rumour that south of the river was a whole lot cheaper, well in some areas it does turns out that way.

We’d been looking at places in and around Brixton, which is not quite as cheap as it used to be, well apart those really dodgy areas. We’d looked at a few places in Stockwell as well. Some lovely flats, really crap area though.

We were slowly making our way towards Herne Hill which we’d been before on a few occasions for parties, drinks, throwing up at the bus stop opposite the train station etc etc.

Herne Hill may be a little out of the way, but it is a lovely area, and we saw some great flats, although all the agents neglected to tell us they were all available now now, not at the end of March as we’d told them we wanted to move in by. Wasted days yet again.

Except we found The Prince Regent, The Florence and visited yet again the Commercial. 3 great pubs all within spitting distance of each other and would make living in Herne Hill so much easier.

The Prince Regent had the look of a real local boozer of old. It has been slightly renovated, but all the old fittings are still there, which gives it a real feel to the place. I especially love the original bar fittings, something you are seeing less and less of these days. It’s a shame really, but with so many boozers closing at a furious rate, I guess this is the only way they can stay open. To be Gastrofied.

We only had a few drinks here, but looking at the chalkboard menu and the food that was leaving the kitchen to the tables around us, all looked good. Very good indeed. I just wished we’d not had that meal in Brixton Market, as I wanted to try their food. Oh well another time.

Next on the list of possible local boozers was the Florence. This pub I could see myself getting very acquainted with, mainly because of the impressive list of beer on tap including a few made by the pub itself. Impressive, most impressive.

I also like the seating around the edge of the large bar, although they are a little bit too close. I really didn’t want to know about the problems that one of the girls on the table next door was having with her boyfriend. Me personally I would forgive him, and try to be a bit more understanding to his needs. But that’s just me, I’m not a bitch like her. The things we men have to put up with.

We weren’t particularly hungry, but we needed something to soak up the beer we were drinking, so we decided to share a burger and fries. It’s a tad annoying, as you cannot order at the bar, you have to wait for one of the girls to come around to take your order. But it was nice to get table service in a pub.

We ordered the 21 day aged steak burger and a portion of fries. It had been a while since I last had a burger and I needed my fix. Although I am not an addict like some other bloggers I could mention.

The burger took longer to come than it took us to eat it. We were hungrier than we thought. There is a point when I have drunk too much and my taste buds go to shit. Thankfully I was one beer before that stage, if I’d have waited another pint then I would not have been able to taste diddly.

But I wasn’t and I could still taste a tad, just. Nah, only joking. The burger was pretty damn tasty. The meat was well seasoned and even though I couldn’t fully taste the 21 day of aged steak, but it was a damn fine burger. Shame there was not enough of the mature cheddar to go around, or maybe Lina swagged it all when I went to get some more drinks. I wouldn’t put it passed her. You have to watch her sometimes.

For some reason we both felt this pub was more suited to a night time visit rather than an afternoon jaunt. But I want to return, not only for another burger, but to drink my way through their beer list. Love it.

The third boozer we visited for a swift pint in between flat visits was the Commercial.  We’ve been before and liked it back then, and always wanted to return and sample some of their offerings. We couldn’t eat anything on this occasion, which was a shame as the pub has a nice feel to it.

There are some nice comfy sofas and chairs and I could imagine sitting in them and quaffing on a few real ales, and munching on their Sunday Roast.

If we moved down this way then I reckon I’ll be sampling their grub on a regular basis. All we need to do now is find somewhere to live around here. Now that’s the challenge.

B is for Belgium @ Belgo Centraal

Well this madcap adventure continues into round 2 with the letter B. We had many choices with this letter. Belarus; Bulgaria; Benin; Bahrain; Bangladesh; Belgium; Brasil; Bolivia and Burmese to name but a few.

After much deliberation over the countries we narrowed it down to Belgium, Bulgaria and Burma. After more deliberation we decided on Belgium, as only 1 of us (me) had been to Belgium, and only two of us had eaten at a Belgium restaurant before. Bulgaria was discounted as two of us had eaten at a Bulgarian place quite recently, and the cuisine is very similar to Polish, which is going to be P. Well we have one Pole amongst us, so it has to be. In that case then, C is gonna have to be Colombia as 50% of us are.

Burma was discounted as only I am a white imperialist, and still call it Burma. Not Myanmar. So that could be M I guess. This seems to be sorting it self out by itself.

I only know of a few places that do Belgium food. Many that does Belgium beer, but not many that do the food. Well when I say many, I just mean the different branches of Belgos.

I do enjoy eating at Belgos even though the food isn’t brilliant, and it will never win any awards for culinary excellence, but it is still quite good for what it is. But the main attraction here is the beer, although the menu does seem to have shrunk since my last visit.

We all jumped straight in for some beers and food. We were told we had the table for 2 hours, which in Belgos is a pretty long time. Between us we had a beef carbonade, the spit roasted chicken with ginger and chilli sauce, moules Florentine and the moules mariniere, but most importantly a Judas, 2 Kwaks and a Cristal. Nothing is more important than those fine Belgium beers.

Even though I am not religious, and really have a disdain for the Church. You have to hand it to those monks who in ways of making money and of course making sure the local population had clean drinking liquid to guzzle on, made some of the best beer on the planet. God bless them.

I never got to try the beef carbonade or the moules Florentine, but I was reliably informed they were very very good. Remember they are non-sharers. The spit roasted chicken with ginger and chilli sauce tastes as it always does and should. It’s a posher version of a Nandos chicken, as Nandos unfortunately do not have ginger and chilli sauce. Maybe they should, as it would save me a lot of cash.

My moules mariniere were made with cream and a little to much of it was added. I think the chef has a twitch as he was pouring it into the pan. But otherwise the mussels were plump and well cooked. Well you’d have to be one shit chef to fuck up cooking mussels wouldn’t you.

I like eating at Belgos. It is as good as you make it really. It’s a good time place to go with friends, have a nice meal, drink a few good beers with a good vibe, then go off somewhere else to finish the night off, as it is rather expensive, and for beers the Lowlander is slightly cheaper and has more choice.

Now looking forward to C. Although I can be sure Canada won’t be winning. I think it’s time to hit Africa for the next one.

Memphis Dry Rub

The sun is starting to show its head out a little bit more of late. Although it is still getting mugged by gangs of dark grey clouds, and extinguished by frequent showers recently. But it is putting me in a jollier mood. I am so looking forward to 27^th March when the clocks change and we get more daylight. Although we loose that hour in the morning, but who cares about that as I never wake up till after 7 anyhows.

The extra 4 minutes of sunshine everyday is making me feel like summer is on its way. I’ve not actually suffered with SAD this year, mainly as I have had other things to keep my mind occupied lately.

But with summer on its way, it’s getting into Bar-B-Q season. Although I do not own a bar-b-q nowadays, as we have no garden of our own, and have nowhere to store one. Our shared shed I noticed recently has no back to it, and it wouldn’t last long if the new crime figures are anything to go by.

So I am being forced to cook my all time favorite bar-b-q item in my oven. Ribs. Baby back ribs to be more precise. Man I love those meat morsels as the tender flesh falls off the bone and melts in my mouth. Yum yum yum.

I’ve made my first batch yesterday, which were ok, but not fantastic. So I am going to try again this week. The problem was the rub. I had some of the “Classic Steak Rub” left over from my last order from The East London Steak Company. It was good, but not great, as I prefer something with a little more spice on my ribs. So I am going back to my mainstay of the Memphis Rub. It’s earthy and has a good amount of heat to it.

So for the rub you will need:

2 tbsp Paprika

1 tbsp black pepper

1 tbsp dark brown sugar

1 tsp salt

1 tsp celery salt

1 tsp garlic powder

1 tsp mustard powder

1 tsp cumin

¼ tsp cayenne powder

Mix everything together with your fingers and store in an airtight container in a dark place. It normally keeps for a good few weeks before starting to loose its bite.

It goes excellent with ribs or chicken.

Ribs to follow soon. 

Foto Friday # 39

Grilled offal from Estilo Campo in Buenos Aires. Heaven, pure heaven.

Trullo - Highbury's Finest

I made the reservation for Trullo about 6 weeks in advance. I’ve never been that organised in my life before, but sometimes you just have to plan ahead. I’ve already made a reservation for the River Café at the end of March, but that’s for my birthday and that’s different.

I’d been wanting to eat here for quite a while, but in some cases I feel it is best to let a restaurant run for a while, before charging in like a bull in a china shop, and criticising it for basic start up errors, which hopefully should iron themselves out over time. So over 8 months since its opening, I thought it was time to give it a whirl.

I had seen the interior of the restaurant from the outside many a time from the 19 bus, but once you are inside, it is surprisingly small but yet still spacious. It has a simple but kind of industrial look about it, with scaffolding planks masquerading as shelves, even a few books on them as well.

The menu is short and sweet and comes in several parts. Beginning with the antipasti, primi, then the mains from the grill or the oven, followed by the deserts and then the finale of cheeses.

I’ve never been keen on antipasti in restaurants, as the price outweighs the quantity of the food that you get. So I always give them a miss.

Tonight’s menu offered us a nice range of offerings, but there were more dishes we were not keen on than we were. Which is a shame, but wrong night I guess. There were a few offal dishes to keep us entertained, so all was well in the Highbury world of Italian restaurants.

So for starters we ordered the borlotti beans with grilled ox heart and the papperdelle with a beef shin ragu. Both were presented nicely, well I thought so. They were very rustic and simple in look, but who needs to be complicated. Both had Parmesan wisps grated over the top. Taste wise, my pasta was silky smooth and had a great feel to it, I just wish I could say the same about the ragu. It was lifeless and boring. The meat had been cooked to the desired tenderness, but it lacked any real flavour at all. Had they forgotten to season it, had they tasted it? Obviously not.

The same disappointment was met after tasting the borlotti beans with the ox heart. The beans were again lacking any real taste. Some of them were chalky and slightly undercooked. The ox heart was perfectly cooked, but again it did not taste of ox heart. It could have won the tasteless ox heart of the year award. A big shame. This did not leave us with high hopes for the mains.

The mains came and looked lovely. 10/10 for presentation for these guys. I had the Venetian calves liver with polenta and a rocket salad. For me, this made up for any shortcomings on the pasta dish. The liver was cooked spot on. I could not fault that at all. Perfect, perfect perfect. Excellent. The polenta had been griddled so was kind of crunchy on the outside, whilst still being creamy on the inside. It did need a smidgen of more seasoning, but the liver was still sending my senses into heaven that I didn’t mind. The rocket salad was as sharp as it should be, anymore and it would have been too much and been totally ruined.

The problem came with the 2^nd main. This was from the grill. The pork chop, potatoes and braised celery. On first appearance it looked great. Taste wise, the chop had bags of flavour and was still juicy. The problem was the potatoes. They were still fridge cold. Unbelievable. Had they forgotten to take them out in time, and just remembered whilst they were plating up and hoping we wouldn’t notice.

We called over the waitress and told her the tatties were cold. She had a most surprised look on her face. She took the dish away without a word, and then we waited. By the time the dish came back we’d more or less polished off my liver. But there was no word of apology from anyone. In fact, more or less after that we were ignored. I’m not sure why, I can only imagine it was because the staff hadn’t been trained how to apologise. It’s like some of the agents I use overseas, when all goes well, all is fine. When things fuck up, they really fuck up, as they have no idea how to handle it.

But for a restaurant that was charging £16.50 for a dish, you’d expect a) the tatties to be hot, b) you’d expect an apology. Period.

I have to say the dish that we got back, and it was a brand new dish was pretty damn good. The chop was as juicy and tender as the last one, the celery had a lovely crunch to them. Even the now warm tatties were nice.

The lack of an apology has left a bad taste with us. We were not expecting anything off the bill, and we never got it, but we expected a simple sorry. Nada.

Trullo does do very good food. Some highs (liver), some lows (ragu) and some schoolboy errors (cold potato’s). But it come across to me that the pricing and the bad service that it is really punching well above its weight here. But when you look around this part of North London, there really isn’t anything that can come close to the quality that it does turn out. But that doesn’t excuse bad service.

I’d expect that in Nando’s (although I’ve only ever had good service there), but not in a restaurant where you pay £40 + per person.

Good food, bad service. I won’t be going back unfortunately. 

Gutted.

Noodles at Ramen Seto

For some strange reason I have never walked down Kingly Street before. I know, it’s incredible. Just why hadn’t I ever crossed over into the back part of Carnaby Street. I’m glad I did as I’ve discovered a whole host of gems. Deshea being one of them, and Ramen Seto being the other.

We were in need of some soupy nourishment. As we walked past 2 happy campers in the window were eating two large bowls of noodles. We were hooked and decided to return later for lunch after some also much needed shopping was completed. 

Luckily when we returned the same 2 window seats were free, and even better it was soupy warm inside. That warmth you only get when everyone is eating noodle soup, so the air smells and feels like noodle soup. Not sure if that explains it but I’m sure you get my drift.

Ordering was pretty easy. We both wanted the ramen soup. Lina had the Seafood extravaganza, and I opted for the pork chashu ramen. It had been a long day so far, so we ordered a small plate of gyoza to get our stomachs happy until the main even came along.

These little pot stickers were first steamed then finished off in the pan, they had a lovely crispy coating that made them easier to pick up with the chopsticks. The filling was a wonderful pork and vegetable, nicely seasoned, nicely cooked. With a soy sauce dip they were the perfect way to relax and get ready for the main event.

I cannot recommend the ramen soups here enough. Both of them were jammed packed with fillings. The seafood was literally spilling over the edge of the bowl. OK a slight exaggeration, but I’ve never had a bowl of noodles so stocked with filling before. Squid, prawn and some very tasty fish balls mixed in with some nice noodles and a pretty good stock base.

My chashu ramen noodles were just as good and packed out. The thin slices of pork were slightly dry but the stock moistens them up somewhat. Thankfully the half slice of boiled egg was not over boiled. Phew. A personal pet hate.

OK the stock base was not the strongest or the best I have ever had, but at these prices it was a whole lot better than it should have been. It was quite mild, but it did allow the other ingredients to speak for themselves.

Ramen Seto will never compete with Koya, but then again who can. But it offers a good bowl of noodles at a good price. Something of a rarity in London these days. I shall return.

A Great Takeaway from Sunderban Tandoori

I have been a bit lazy these past few days and really cannot get my arse in gear to cook anything. So after eating out three or four times over the last few days, we needed to eat indoors and tighten our wallets. Well that was the plan anyhows, but after getting back from a day of shopping and photography, I again couldn’t be arsed to cook, plus I was too tired to go out and eat. A takeaway was called for.

We’ve tried quite a few takeaway joints around Highbury and on Blackstock Road area. Most are average at best. But what to have? Wasn’t in the mood for pizza, as had it at the last monthly meeting at work. I generally do not like Chinese food in a takeaway form, as it is 9/10 pretty bad. Plus I ate an average Ma Po Tofu the day before at work. Again.

I am eating a lot more Indian food, which is not surprising really, as I am working for an Indian company staffed by Indians, to which some of them or their wives are damn good cooks. Being spoilt rotten I am. Excellent.

We’ve tried Desh (below average), Shahi Spice (average), Ruman Balti and Tandoori (very good, but I was very drunk and very hungry, so no idea really). I’ve wandered past Sunderban on many an occasion, and it is always populated. I’ve been meaning to try it for a while now, but never got round to it, but now was its chance.

Sundermans is your typical small Indian restaurant. It seats around 20 odd people, plus it has the obligatory take out table at the back by the bar.

The menu has the normal favourites that we are so used to, plus one or two other surprises that I was not expecting.

As I sat perusing the menu I ordered a pint of Kingfisher. I always find a nice cold beer helps the choosing process run a bit smoother.

I was tempted to go for some of our regular choices, such as a Korma, Dansak, Jalfrazi or my personal favourite the Lamb Biriyani.  But something was telling me to try some new dishes, especially as it was the first time here.

So I opted for a Lamb Dupiaza, (which is supposed to have twice as much onions to meat), a Chicken Begon (I asked what this was and was told it was cooked with aubergines and quite mild), a sag paneer, pilau rice and a keema naan.

As I waited for my food, the manager or owner was chatting away to a regular customer about this and that. It’s nice to see interaction on a personal basis in a restaurant, as it is so rare these days.

The food when I got it home was pretty damn tasty. Everything was well cooked, well seasoned and quite mild, but I had ordered it that way as the wife was feeling a tad ill and I did not want to make feel any worse.

The star of the show was the Begon or Begun. Very mildly spiced but had a wonderful aubergine flavour that was really different and has now become a dish I want to eat more of.

The Dopiaza, again as mildly spiced and well cooked, although not a great deal of onion was present. The sag paneer, was a delightful creamy combination of cheese and spinach that lived up to my memories of this dish when I’ve eaten it back in India recently.

All in all Sunderban does a very fine takeaway, and I will to go back and enjoy their food, but next time I sitting in their restaurant and hopefully have a chat with the staff.