Curries and Ashton Lane

[f4f3]

Well, last night was semi-officially my last big blowout meal for a while. I've decided to be exercise a bit of tough love on myself, as hotel living and a shrinking waist-line are not compatible, and I'm seeing the doctor in three weeks.

At least I went out in style. My three favourite curry houses in Glasgow are all run by the same people. One is Mother India, a ramshackle place in an old bank (I think) on two separate floors with mismatched furniture and lighting which could charitably be described as individual. The food is superb. The other two are both called "The Wee Curry Shop". One is just round the corner from Glasgow's art house cinema, the GFT, and has maybe a half dozen tables and a counter behind which the chef cooks up some equally wonderful food and passes it to the one waitress. Last time I was in it was red and white check plastic tablecloths, and bring your own bottle.

The other Wee Curry Shop is in Ashton Lane in the West End. Ashton Lane deserves its own entry (hell, it deserves its own blog, and probably has one) since it has so many fond memories for me. It's maybe a hundred yards long from the Ashoka West End to the Cul de Sac, and (counting the Wee Chip which is around the corner but part of the Ubiquiotous Chip building) has nine bars, 7 restauants and a Cinema. A couple of years they slung a web of lights over the Lane, and it makes a nice roof when it gets dark.

The Wee Curry Shop is at the north end of the lane, above Jinty McGinty's Irish Bar (home at one time to Irish Phil, site of my last drink as a single man, and previously mentioned as the place with the blonde barmaid with the large Blqack Bush).

I had a whole haddock, baked in spices to start with, and then buttered chicken which leapt off my plate and demanded to be eaten. The basmatti rice was well prepared, and the peshwari nan came perfectly puffed, like an albino wannabe tortoise.

I'm used to seeing half full plates go back after an Indian meal, but there wasn't a scrap left on mine.

A nice black bush sipped outside of Jinty's, watching the lane go by, and propitiary visits to The Chip and Brel, and I went home in a fine, relaxed state of mind.

Sometimes life is just for living...

Comments

[f4f3.livejournal.com]

You're right, it is a pretty small menu (one page and three specials last night!) but I could go along and eat their chilli chicken every night and not complain. If only I could get them to serve Crolla's ice cream with the Gulab Jamaan.

Mother India's cafe? Is that Cafe India (near the Mitchell) or somewhere else I should know about?

[munchkinstein.livejournal.com]

Mother India's Cafe is directly opposite The Kelvingrove Art Galleries. They don't take bookings and so you just turn up, queue and get the first space available. The main point to remember is that they serve curry in a Tapas stylee. i.e. many small dishes. Hence the best idea is to turn up with a large-ish group and each order two different things. That way you can try a vast range of very nice curries in a sociable manner without too much expense. I have been with six to eight on a number of occasions and it has worked very well.
I think it is the same group as Mother India, which would make sense. Here is Alex Kapranos to recommend it.

[f4f3.livejournal.com]

Yum! That's definitely on my list of places to try - wish I'd managed to combine it with an Easter Con get together.

[f4f3.livejournal.com]

Good piece by Kapranos too! I wonder if he delivered to me when I was living in the West End...

[unblinkered.livejournal.com]

I'd rather eat somewhere that does a small selection of dishes well, than somewhere that does a million dishes badly. When I had the coffee shop, our menu - including descriptions - was one full A4 page & a specials board. We could've had more, but then we wouldn't have been able to guarantee the quality of every plate that went out.

My father still waxes lyrical about the Chip's whiskey selection - 10 years later!

[f4f3.livejournal.com]

Hee - tell him it's still as good as ever. They've now got three bars, upstairs, the Wee Chip round the corner, and a very cosy ground floor bar where the toilets used to be - for some reason every time I go in to the new bar it's full of incredibly good looking women. Ah well, that's the risks I run, I guess.

[unblinkered.livejournal.com]

Oh you poor thing...question is, though: are they good looking because you've been sampling the whiskeys too much?

Also: I'd rather not give my dad any ideas...last time he visited Glasgow, I took him to a Russian restaurant that was run by ScotOp's principal viola player. And my dad got incredibly drunk and requested a rendition of "Kalinka" so he could sing and dance. Which doesn't sound so bad, until you remember that my dad's on crutches... *sigh*

[f4f3.livejournal.com]

Well I was designated driver last night (I had a bad moment when one of the bartenders called me "DD" and I thought my secret identity as Glasgow's only blind superhero lawyer had been blown, but luckily he'd just caught on as to my sober status).

My sobriety was probably what saved me from myself anyway *g*

Was that Cafe Sergei?

[unblinkered.livejournal.com]

Nope, Cafe Cossachok down by the Trongate. It's run by a very nice chap called Leo Atlas and his wife Julia, or at least used to be back when I worked with him.

[unblinkered.livejournal.com]

* Lev Atlas

It would appear that, 9 years on, I still call the poor guy by the wrong name. Sheesh.

[f4f3.livejournal.com]

They're both fine superhero secret identities: probbly the civilian ID of Man Mountain or The Flying Globe.

[unblinkered.livejournal.com]

Maybe the two of you could get together and kick the bejeebus out of Colin Farrell? Please? For me???? *makes puppy eyes*

[f4f3.livejournal.com]

Anytime - although I am a bit of a fan of his portrayal of Bullseye.

[f4f3.livejournal.com]

I've driven past that one but never been in - I must admit, on the evidence of my one trip to Moscow, I wouldn't be hurrying for more Russian food!

[unblinkered.livejournal.com]

I must admit, the reason I used to go there wasn't so much the food as the company....there were always a few familiar faces about! Aaaah, the memories....mostly of debauched leaving dos!