In what was only a mildly and temporarily amusing coincidence, our Curry Club dinner last night was at the Curry Club restaurant in town.
Now, before we even get there, it’s up against the wall when it comes to comparisons, with Bihari (see 6000 miles… passim) all over the top curry awards for this corner of SA. But even with that in mind, we gave it a go anyway, and actually, it was pretty good.
Set in a quaint old house on New Church Street, just along from the Fire & Ice Hotel (which was much more ice than fire last night), it looks like it would be better set in Observatory. There are higgledy-piggledy chairs and tables, cloths and scarves hung from the ceilings, and the ubiquitous bookcase of randomness (weird dolls, an astroturf rabbit, model aliens, 1960s vases, a child’s mokorotlo etc etc) on the wall.
A genial Southern English host, clearly passionate about his curries, and who was lucky enough to discover an amazing chef from Delhi, and is now chucking out Punjabi deliciousness six days a week. They’re very much set up for deliveries, with two guys manning the iPads at Reception the whole night, and a stream of drivers coming and going.
And the food was good. Starters were a selection of Bhajees, and their signature chicken livers. Mains were everything from Lamb Rogan Josh, through the Chicken Tikka, and on to the “Chicken and Prawn Curry, you say?”, described thus:
Try this one for size, Curry Club’s mad blend of reef and henhouse all wrapped up in a creamy weave of coriander, red chillies and fresh tomato.
Which was mine, and which was really good. Only down side for me was the spiciness – or rather the lack of it. Default from the kitchen is 5/10, and that seemed reasonable to try in a place where we’d never been before. But sadly, there was no spice at all, and I’ll probably try a 7 or an 8 next time around.
Fully licensed, so beers were happily accompanying all the food.
And then the music. Really good! 90s indie all the way through the evening. Bran Van 3000, Soup Dragons, New Radicals, The Smiths, and some really long extended stuff from The Charlatans. Then, as the host lit up the blowtorch (with a Bush Baby cannister, nogal) some Crèmes Brûlées at the table – Firestarter by The Prodigy. We all laughed at the coincidence, and then realised that it was a rather theatrical set-up. Clever.
They don’t do coffee. At all. And that’s odd.
But yep. It was a good night out, and I would recommend the place. A lot more laid back than Bihari, albeit that the food could never, and would never match up, right?
Right. But it came pretty close. And that’s fairly amazing.
