And so I arrive, with great pleasure, at the doors of the Gurkha Grill. A palace in the world of culinary excellence. For those of you who doubt this assertion, I suggest you keep your mouths shut. You can disagree with me about anything. Not this! What's that I hear in the wings? The Great Kathmandu is better? Off with your heads!
The food at the Gurkha Grill is shockingly good. The hotter it gets, the better it gets too. Flavours of ginger, chilli and sesame pour out. This is the kind of food that will make your tongue tingle. When you leave it'll sulk until you go back. You'll eat a chip, "What is this crap you're feeding me?" it'll ask. You'll tell it to shut up but it'll spit it out; keep spitting till you return to its Nepalese addiction.
I often wonder at the people who go here and order a korma. What is that about? That is the sort of curry that is bought in a jar, off a shelf, from a shop. A korma, in any guise, is about as interesting as a Kraft cheese slice. Is there a lack of adventure in people like this? An unwillingness to venture too far from the familiar? Why not try a gurkhali or sandheko? Why not surprise yourself and order something new? Alu Tereko perhaps or Chena Khursani. Once I heard a man say his food was bland. He was eating rice and chips! Why must you and I live with such people?
The waiters are wonderful too. Go back often enough (thrice) and they'll remember you. They'll remember how hot you like your food; they'll remember what you drink; they'll remember that your girlfriend is a vegetarian; they'll remember that you like a fifteen minute break between starters and mains; with your papadums they'll give you a free salad; it's bloody delicious!
But here I must stop. It's already too busy at weekends. Do I really want more people to go? Well, yes, I wouldn't want to deny you the experience. Go and be merry.