Author: Andrew

It was earlier in the week that I identified that Friday had the potential to be a two-curry day. Everything hinged on getting into London reasonably early in the afternoon, and managing to restrain the compulsion to dine until my arrival at a favoured destination. I decided to put my appetite in the hands of the road gods, and see what may or may not be possible.

First curry: Indian Veg

92-93 Chapel Market, London N1 9EX

The Northern Line spat me out at Angel, and I made my way across the busy A1 towards Chapel Market. Entering the market from Liverpool Road, the first shop you encounter is a big M&S, however the mix quickly changes in favour of independent businesses (along with its market) and as you walk along, one discovers a curious treasure trove of unfashionable signage. Passing the Millennium Café where a sixteen year-old Luke Littler ate his pre-match omelettes during the 2024 world darts championships, I walked on towards Penton Street. And soon enough, on the left, I found Indian Veg.

Around forty per cent of Indians identify as vegetarian and, knowing that this was now surely to be a two-curry day thought I had better join them for at least one of my meals. Indian Veg has been serving up a variety of interesting vegetables in a buffet format since 1984, and has been saved on my “curry possibles” Google map for the last three years or so. How have I only come here for the first time today? With its bright green exterior and various posters advertising the health benefits of a diet of vegetables it is an aesthetically busy delight.

I enter to find a man I take to be the proprietor sitting at one of the restaurant tables, facing the door, attending to his mobile phone. “One?”, he asks me. “Yes please.” He directs me towards a table and bids me to help myself. Hanging my coat over the back of the chair I find that each place is set with a plastic tablemat declaring lentil soup to be a nutritional powerhouse.

This isn’t the only available guidance on the powers of the humble lentil. Looking around, I note that just about every available surface is covered in posters informing the reader of the unique qualities of the vegetarian diet. Anyone choosing to eat here shall not leave uninformed as to the ways of the vegetable. It is everywhere; on the tables, on the walls, on the windows and so on. I would have no shortage of things to read.

Approaching the buffet, I decide to heed the guidance on the table and begin with some lentil soup. This appears to take the form and colour of a liquidised daal tarka. It certainly has the seasoning of one, and a level of spice that works with the seasoning to produce something that is really quite delicious. I decide I could eat this quite regularly, and on finishing the small bowl deliberate on filling another. I decide against this; there is more on the buffet to see.

Wandering around with a plate I amass a range of interesting vegetables. There are quite a few variations on the theme of potatoes and lentils, three types of rice and some small and suspicious looking onion bhajia. The vegetables are all well cooked and have imparted plenty of flavour from the masala. Even the bhajia were more giving than I had first suspected they might be.

Other than the excellent lentil soup, favourites from the buffet included the spicy mashed potato and the paneer, pea and coconut curry albeit with plenty of fishing around to find the paneer. I returned for a second spin of both of these. The bread was small and oddly greasy, but not unpleasant.

A few customers come and go as I eat, all of them solo. This is evidently a popular spot for the lone diner. Taking my leave I pay a different chap, our friend with the phone having disappeared. “Did you enjoy it?”, he asks. I very much did.

Second curry: Lahori Karahi

230 Commercial Rd, London E1 2NB

It’s later the same evening, I have been in Limehouse indulging in refreshing beverages and have the munchies. Stepping off the 15 bus at Watney Market I heave to for Lahori Karahi.

I had spotted this new entrant to the East End curry scene as they were readying themselves for opening back in the summer, and had been intrigued by a curious strapline on their sign. Here, in the Whitechapel/Shadwell borderlands, was a restaurant promising to deliver curry from Manchester, and I was informed by the inestimable Hector that it was most likely to be an offshoot of Lahori Karahi in Levenshulme, Manchester. I had to check this out.

I made my entrance into a brightly lit room with an open kitchen off to the right, fronted by a counter with a range of fare on display in the true style of a curry café. Taking a seat with a good view of the door I evaluate the menu and am immediately drawn to the array of karahi dishes available by the kilo, not least under the section entitled “Brohi of Balochistan” where one will find the legendary and peppery white karahi. I was again solo, and stuck therefore with the smaller meat portion where such wonders were not available. There is karahi though, and paya and nihari and haleem, so the lone curry hound need not go hungry.

The waiter arrives, and explains that I am seated in a restaurant that specialises in karahi. Well goodness me. I order lamb karahi, on the bone, along with a portion of daal tarka and a butter naan. For hydration, a glass of mango lassi. The waiter returns after a few minutes, bearing my lassi, some raita, and a salad of cucumber, onion and tomato. Four gents arrive, and take a seat in the window. They are doing the kilo. I am envious.

After a respectable wait, here is my karahi. A reasonably dry curry, but with a rich looking masala and visible oil separation. A sprinkling of coriander atop. The lamb is generously apportioned, and tender. The masala is delightfully spicy but maybe a little light on the seasoning. There is a chance that meat and masala have only got to know each other comparatively recently, but this is a fine karahi indeed.

The daal is delightfully thick and well seasoned, a rich yellow ochre colour with some of the lentils not entirely broken down. It is a delight. The naan is served whole and blistered, moistened with a brushing of ghee, maybe a smidgin less well done than I would usually like but this is no great problem.

With an accompanying little mountain of naan, the gents get their kilo. Taking a stickybeak across the tables I am struck with a jealousy – it looks superb. I return my attention to my own meal, separating meat from bone as I go. I am enjoying myself.

Paying my bill at the counter, I am asked if I might mind leaving Lahori Karahi a review. Go on then.