Nick's Food Tour - India

As my eyes wept, my nose ran and my ears started to ring, I realised that perhaps I should not have let myself be goaded by Arshad into eating the green chilli.

It was, however, possibly the best Indian meal I've ever had (and it thankfully did not degenerate into a murderous argument over the bill...). Luckily, I'd tasted everything before I seared the tastebuds off my tongue.

The restaurant was Kababs and Kurries at the ITC Grand Central in Mumbai. Despite the rather cavalier attitude to spelling, the food was excellent and not a chicken tikka marsala or other Euro-Indian dish in sight. The prawn kebab was subtle in flavour and made out of prawns the size of a baby's fist. The chicken was barbecued perfectly and went well with the yoghurt and the lamb was something else. Specifically, it was goat. It seems "lamb" is Indian for "goat meat".

Now, the fish (in kokunut kurry) was a little bland, but that may have been because I had most of it after trying the green chilli. (Fortunately, one bite was not enough to liquify my entire digestive system, but there were a few moments the next day when I felt like I'd been given a prostate exam by a doctor who confused the KY with Tiger Balm.)

* * *

Mumbai is a city of contrasts. Largely, it's the contrast between poverty and squallor, but you can also see that some people earn a rupee or two. The hotel, for example, was easily 5-star, I saw million dollar display homes, and I thnk I saw a car without dents. But the rest is raw. Like sewage. Particularly the sewage.

The grand old buildings look as worn as you could expect after 60 years of no maintenance, new buildings look old, and buildings under construction look like they may be under deconstruction. The lucky ones live in these. The not so lucky live in shanty towns on the footpaths, adn the really poor bastards live under tarpaulins on the side of the road. Suddenly I understoof why they flock to places like Dubai to work hard and live 8-12 to a room for scant pay: it's probably absolute luxury to them. It really makes you appreciate what you've got.

Children play on the streets in Mumbai, then grow up to play on the streets some more, only in a car. Traffic here is nuts. Not only is it one of the few places where you can still share the road with a bullock pulling a cart, but the bullock is actually the best driver around. I think Indian drivers have some kind of echo-location as they don't use their eyes at all, relying instead on constant honking. Once again, Dubai doesn't seem so bad.