Walking to Civic tonight we were debating whether to dine at the old favourite of Ali Baba, or try the new, and nearly next door “Grill Fusion” which offers on its signage to provide kebabs AND curry.
This got us thinking that a good naan or roti bread could play host to a dryish curry forming a pretty handy takeaway meal.
We were so enthused by this idea that we walked past the trusted, reliable, Ali Baba and into the Grill Fusion.
There was a dude mucking around on a laptop in the corner who ignored us and no-one behind the counter.
After two minutes of this my more sensible girlfriend announced she was going to Ali Baba. But we blokes, being stupid, persevered. Eventually a man in a filthy chef’s jacket came out from the back and took our orders. During this time we’d noticed that, apparently, our dreams had come true and a roti-curry kebab was indeed on the menu.
Despite being still legal to drive we chose to try this grand experiment.
After a short period of arseing around we were advised to wait outside.
Where we waited, and waited.
To their credit they did make the roti fresh for us.
On the other hand our meals were piled up in paper bags on the counter and, despite having been asked to wait outside, no effort was made to ask us to collect our meals.
After all the other customers had left we guessed that the remaining packages were for us and inquired as to whether they’d like us to pay for them.
As you can see in the first photograph, it was not an appetising package. The curry was so wet that it constantly threatened to spill onto our clothes. We joked that a straw was needed to eat it safely.
I have a stomach that has weathered the worst kebabs in London, amoebic dissentry, and months in rural China. Without wishing to provide too much information, let’s say I am now in a delicate condition.
Ali Baba has little to fear.