You'll Wish The Curry Mile Stretched All the Way to Brighton

It's been a while since I blogged about Manchester.  Too long!  My apologies, for I have been on my holidays and, thus, have neglected my duties as a promoter of Mancunian food.  Not to worry, for as soon as I finish this ditty about Brighton, I shall return to my home town, continuing my ventures in all things culinary.

Brighton is a god awful place for somebody who drives a car.  As everybody drives a car, one can jump quite easily to the conclusion that Brighton is a god awful place.  But stop!  That's a bit unfair.  Many good and wonderful people tell me Brighton is their favourite place in the world.  The world!  Better than Paris?  Better than Berlin?  Better than Chorlton?  Indeed.  With its beach, its cute alleyways, its endless supply of jewelry shops, its kooky vegetarian shoe shops, its sex shops (where one can buy the most graphic lampshades), its comedy clubs and night clubs, what more could you desire?  A good restaurant?  That would be my response; and fortunately, Brighton can deliver.

Not surprisingly, Brighton's two best restaurants serve Indian food.  One, Indian Summer, is run by authentic Indian people; "the chef adores cricket," claims the menu.  Can't argue with that; authentic Indian for sure.  The other, The Chilli Pickle, is run by posh student totty.  Yet it's the Chilli Pickle that wins all the plaudits, including mine.  The food is fantastic; it had me in tears.  Strange flavours, pushed deep into the background of Indian cuisine for so long, suddenly thrust themselves into the limelight.  Cardamom and fennel take centre stage; they caress the taste buds; they tickle the fancy.  Nothing along the Curry Mile is as good as this.  Nothing!  What a depressing thought.  I don't blame the restaurants of course; I blame the customers; so intensely afraid to remove themselves from the murky underworld of a chicken tikka masala or a bhuna.   Why not try something new?  Both Indian Summer and The Chilli Pickle would never serve such crap.
From this day forth, whenever I find myself driving through Rusholme i'll be wishing the Curry Mile stretched all the way to Brighton.  You are more than welcome to join me.