Last Saturday evening
saw me meeting up with my great friend Emma who was over from Holland
with her man Ronald for a holiday in Yorkshire via her parents
Elizabeth and George in Beeston, Nottinghamshire. I had been working
all day and had arranged to meet Emma and Ronald in the dried hops
bedecked and rather nice
Crown Inn pub for a catch up and a few beers
before going on to the
Cottage Balti – Fine Indian Dining
restaurant in Beeston. The Harvest Pale and Tranquillity beers went
down rather well and we all enjoyed a good chin wag about the Dutch city of Leiden and
Emma's recent time in Hungary. Emma, with a mischievous glint in her
eye, said she had a present for me but it was at her parents' house.
Knowing Emma's naughty sense of humour I was intrigued to see what that might be. I
wasn't disappointed.
Prior to meeting her
parents that evening we indulged in some English fun just for our
Dutch friend Ronald's sake. It was purely a spontaneous 'when in
England do as the tipsy English do' moment or two. It is important
for foreign visitors to integrate and quickly adapt to our loopy
social customs I feel. The balmy evening weather was proving suitable for some summery silliness.
Eventually we weaved
our way down Chilwell Road and the newly laid tram lines. We weren't
in any danger of being killed by a tram as they aren't running yet,
just at the latter part of the testing stages. Finally, after ten
minutes of walking and silliness we arrived at the
Cottage Balti. It
was very nice with an attractive and stylish interior. It was only
seven o'clock so it wasn't full yet, just a smattering of couples and
George and Elizabeth – Emma's mum and dad awaiting our arrival.
Whilst I took a few
pictures of our group in the restaurant I was so busy enjoying the
food and company that I never got round to taking any of our meals.
We started with poppadoms and trays of pickles and chutneys and
decided to each order a dish which we would all share along with
rice, peshwari nan, pillau nan and paratha. Incidentally, as my spell
checker is now rebelling wildly at all these names, my spellings are
lifted directly from the
Cottage Balti website menu.
From what I remember,
our shared mains dishes included: Tarka Daal, Bhuna Meshi Gosht, Fish
Tikka Chana Zarl, Chicken Jeera, Makhani Chicken in a tomato based
sauce and Shambar Lamb. The very tender and trimmed lamb (mutton?)
curries and the fish curry were the overall favourites among our
group. Amongst the delightful dinner chat were Emma and Ronald's
amusing tales of a recent adventure to India and of their exotic
experiences restricted only by bouts of chronic diarrhoea and
projectile vomiting. Oh how we laughed!
We finished our
restaurant experience with some sumptuous desserts. Mine was a
wonderful chocolate and chilli dish.
A few minutes before we
were about to leave there was a man's voice (fairly deep, loud and
grumpy) from the table behind us. I couldn't see this man but felt
that I had suddenly been transported back through time to the 1970s –
a period in which many people had started to go to Indian
restaurants. Back then, a night of decent folks' culinary adventure
could easily be ruined by the antics of pissed up blokes finishing
off a night of drinking and coming in mob handed to have an 'Indian'.
The 1970s uncultured 'culture' was to drink even more pints of lager
and challenge anyone in the boisterous (and invariably racist) group
to eat the hottest curry – a Vindaloo.
The rude man behind us said
to the woman he was with “I don't do posh!!! I wanna Vindaloo! 'ave
they gor 'ny lager or Guinness?” I was half expecting him to ignorantly
call over the waiter with a condescending and demanding “Oy Gupta!” – a character
from It Ain't Half Hot Mum. Thankfully we paid and left having had a
splendid time and a splendid meal. I sincerely hope the throwback
70's man was an extreme rarity in their fine dining restaurant clientele.
Oh yes, the present!
I'd almost forgotten. Knakkers. Emma had brought me some knakkers all
the way from Holland and some Trappist beer. Cheers Emma!