I want to love Baba Palace because they were so sweet to me. I dropped in on my walk home from work one evening — I really do need to walk home more — knowing there was no food at home and I really should feed myself. I knew Baba’s was an Indian and Pakistani place, and I am a fan of all things Indian and Pakistani. But there on the menu — all over the menu — is falafel and stuff. And you might know I like my falafel too. So I was a little confused and conflicted, but after talking it over with the guys at the counter, they suggested a chicken dish from the Indian/Pakistani menu. Honestly, I have no idea what sort of chicken dish it was. I thought they said Chicken Masala, but it was like no Chicken Masala I’ve ever had so maybe my memory is out of whack.

While I was waiting for my meal, I soaked in the atmosphere.

That’s a joke, by the way.

And then it was time for me to go and get my food. (Baba’s offers counter-service only, apparently.) I must apologize to my nail technician who was on the other end of my garlic naan bread breath approximately 45 minutes after my visit to Baba’s. Sorry! The chicken was good. It wasn’t bad. It was like eating someone’s grandmother’s food. You just can’t say no to it, you know? It’s hard to point at faults because the guy behind the counter — Baba himself?? — was just so darned sweet and wanted me to like my food so badly.

The Verdict. Sigh.

The post Baba Palace, Near North first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Hema’s Kitchen Samosas

Hema’s Kitchen

2411 North Clark
Chicago

The Victims: Too many to mention thanks to Grubwithus.

The Damage: $25 each

The Background: I used to be a sucker. Big time. Big big time. Back in the late 90s, the head of my division at work was leaving the company. So we of course decided to throw him a going away party. Anyhow, in the course of conversation, we asked John if there was any particular food he wanted at his going away party.

Big mistake.

Because he said Indian. And not just any sort of Indian. He wanted Indian from Hema’s Kitchen. And this was YEARS before she had an outpost on Clark. This is when Hema’s only kitchen was on Oakley. 6400 North Oakley. 6400!!

And somehow, I was the person nominated to get the food. Me, who made $23,500 a year and had no car.

But it gets better. Because I arrive at Hema’s little storefront to pick up the big trays of biryani and samosas that we ordered. We’re talking over $200 worth of food here. I pay the bill and turn to leave when Hema shouts, “What about the tip for my cooks?”

Tip? But this is take out?

I turn around and look at her silently. She repeats her request that I tip her cooks who have worked so hard to prepare my food. (“But isn’t that their job?” I wonder.) She asked for $25.

Highway robbery.

I will forgive her because fast-forward to 2011 and her saag paneer is very delicious. Rich. Dense. I don’t want to know how much oil is in here, really. But this may be the best saag paneer I’ve ever had, and I consider myself a connoisseur. The tandori chicken and the samosas are a bit less delicious–the tandori missing that bit of oomph! and the samosas a bit too pastry-like for me. (I need more savorynesss.)

But almost as good as the saag paneer was the lamb vindaloo. Not lip-numbing enough for me, but still with an appreciable kick. I must have lived in the UK too long because most at the table felt this too hot for them. (Hmmm…I’m reading that wondering if that’s an oxymoron to my American readers? The UK, breeding ground of spicy food? Why yes, in London, I might say that’s true.)

Throughout it all, service was prompt and sweet. Well done.

The Verdict: I liked it here at Hema’s in Lincoln Park. The restaurant is actually quite well decorated and makes for a nice night out. Inexpensive, to boot. Oh, and BYOB!  And luckily, no one came out at the end of the meal to harass me about the tip.

The post Hema’s Kitchen, Lincoln Park first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Dishoom Covent Garden Inside

Dishoom Covent Garden

12 Upper Saint Martin’s Lane
WC2H 9FB

The Victim: Julie

The Damage: £20 each for food, but our alcohol was comped.

The Background: First, the disclaimer. My co-worker Banita is married to one of the owners of Dishoom (Amar). This means that I probably got a bit of preferential treatment on my visit to Dishoom the other night. So for example, although Dishoom doesn’t take reservations, I had one. However, had I arrived at 7 p.m. on that Tuesday without a booking, I would have gotten a table anyhow as there was plenty of availability. Also, our drinks–a Bolly Bellini for me (Cardamom in a Bellini! Why hasn’t the world thought of this sooner?) and a St. Martini for Julie (pomegranate and chili, in a gin martini), followed by Bombaladas for both of us (pineapple, coconut milk, rum, herbs)–were comped. And Amar spent a lot of time at our table, explaining the dishes and talking to us about the restaurant.

OK, now that I’ve gotten that out of the way…

Dishoom’s Bollybellini

The delicious Bollybellini at Dishoom

You should try the Bollybellini. It’s lovely. Rose, lychee, raspberry and prosecco.

Dishoom’s Calamari

Dishoom’s Calamari

And I’d also recommend the calamari. I think this was my favorite dish of the night. Good crispy, fresh breading, with a bit of heat. Nicely textured calamari.

Dishoom’s Lamb Chops

Lamb chops at Dishoom

There have been conflicting reports about the lamb chops, but I loved these. Great char, and spicy to boot. Some have said that they were too dry, but ours were perfectly moist, with that nice crunchy barbecued outside. Prettily presented, sprinkled with pomegranates.

Other Dishes at Dishoom Covent Garden

Less interesting for me was a pau bhaji (mashed veg with hot buttered bread) and a cheesy nan. Also, the more I’ve thought about the biryani, it was just, well, biryani. It was good–don’t get me wrong–but it wasn’t a stand-out, memorable dish. It was “just” a very competent biryani.

For dessert, we had gola ice of pomegranate (are you sensing a theme here) and chili. You might have noticed that I’m not the biggest sweets person (unless we’re talking about macarons or lemon tarts), so this was just a personal preference thing for me. Not my thing. But it was interesting, for sure.

One of my favorite items of the evening was the chai…a spicy tea that I could have guzzled a dozen cups of. I can see why Dishoom might be pulling in a good breakfast crowd. With free wifi and a couple of cups of this, I could be very happy, working away at Dishoom.

There’s one thing I want to mention before I get to my final verdict. The prices. They are awesomely low, especially considering this place is on Upper St. Martin’s Lane and the kit-out could not have been cheap. At this writing, the calamari was only £4.50. The chicken biryani £7.50. The lamb chops came in tops at £9.20, but I’d say they were worth it. Can they keep up these prices? I don’t know. But if they keep up the quality of the food, they have a winner on their hands.

Ah, and Banita wanted me to mention in particular…all those pictures on the wall? They aren’t just random stock photos. All of the photos are connected to the owners in some way. (Including the photo of Amar’s dad’s ex-girlfriend in the booth we were in!)

The Verdict: Fun. Tasty. Go. Enjoy. And have a bollybellini for me.

The post Dishoom, Covent Garden first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, February 20th, 2010

The Victims: Nigel, John

The Damage: CHEAP. Like £6 or £7? (With just tap water, happily provided.)

The Background: My friend Mireia and I have been taking some photography classes at the London School of Photography. Let's hope it rubs off. During our intro course, I kept trying to get her and our other friend Larry to come out to dinner with me every night after class. Denied! Too tired, too busy. (To be fair, so was I. Dinner always sounded great at 6:30 p.m. But after three hours of class, I just wanted to go home.)

Luckily during our weekend course, I found some willing victims, and suggested to John and Nigel that we check out Mooli's during our lunch break. (Mireia had to zip off to a fashion show, where her champagne Champagne Penet Chardonnet was being served.)

 
Mooli's is bright and fun and cheerful. So too are the staff, who applauded my "advanced" selection of the mini goat mooli. Why goat is not more popular, I don't know. At some point last year, I declared 2009 the Year of the Goat, but it never came to fruition. Maybe that will happen this year. Friends, embrace goat. It's delicious. (I've just checked the Mooli's Web site and there's a big announcement strapped across it…The goat mooli is now available! See…all the cool kids obviously like it.)

I round out my order with a pork mooli.

The Food: I have no clue what was in the goat Mooli. Besides for the goat. But whatever it was, it was freaking delicious. The pork was good too, but simply not as delicious. (And it was a bit messier, which was no one's fault but mine.)

John and Nigel–who I don't even know–kept saying how cool the place was and how good the food is and what a great choice this was.

And I agree.

The Verdict: Love Mooli's! Love having two great meals withing 24 hours. (Kikuchi and here.) Food gods, smiling upon me.

The post Mooli’s, Soho first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Royal Sweets
92 The Broadway
Southall, UB1 1QF

Ambala
107 The Broadway
Southall UB1 1LN

Date of Last Visit: Sunday, July 11th, 2009

The Victim: Sarah

The Damage: Cheap. A couple of quid.

The Background: After we finish up our walking tour and our lunch, Bernard and Arielle go to get the car. Sarah and I go to look at the sweets. (Thank God for Sarah. She is very patient with me and my food blog.) I learn that Bernard is addicted to this stuff–barfi, in particular–and after eating a bagfull in the car on the way back into town, I can understand why. (Note to self: Southall really isn't that far from London by train. Car makes it seem terribly far. Like Heathrow-far. That's pretty far if you live in Clerkenwell.)

At Ambala, the barfi is delicious…dense and moist and sticky in all the right ways. Although Royal Sweets wins the presentation award, they get dinged in my book for two things: they yelled at me for taking a picture, and their barfi smelled weird. Like a bit rotten and mildewy. Luckily, I had more barfi from Ambala to erase the taste.

The Service: We found the service at both establishments to be less than hospitable. Abrupt. And unhelpful. I felt like a stranger in a strange land. Maybe I was. But you never know anyone's story now, do you?

The Verdict: Cheap sweets. I'd go back to Ambala if I were in the 'hood. Hopefully, they'll be just as sweet to me as their barfi.

The post Sweets in Southall first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Mirch Masala
171-173 The Broadway
Southall, Middlesex UB1 1LX

Date of Last Visit: Sunday, July 11th, 2009

The Victims: Sarah, Bernard, Arielle

The Damage: About £30

The Background: We’ve finished up our walking tour of Southall. Now it’s time to eat. But it’s sort of raining, which means heading over to Brilliant–the Southall stop that gets all the recommendations–isn’t an option. We head up to Mirch Masala.

As it turns out, Mirch Masala has multiple locations, and one of them is on Commercial Road in E1. So I’ve trekked a long way to eat somewhere I could eat at anytime. (Granted, of course, the chefs are different.) A bit of a bummer, but a bummer in hindsight that I can’t do anything about. Hindsight, hindsight, hindsight.

The Menu: I’m in over my head. I text Rutton and ask for recommendations and he sends back a few. His spelling is different than Mirch Masala’s spelling so we have to make our best guess. Does he mean Karahi Gosht?

After a long discussion with our server and after showing him Rutton’s text, we think we order Karahi Gosht, but it could be Karahi Methi Keema. You tell me. (This is a lamb dish. That much is clear.) We also order one of the specials–white daal. It’s great. Or at least, I think it’s great. Creamy. Spicy. Bernard sends it back because it’s too hot. I say, “Bring it on.” The replacement version pales in comparison. It’s boring.

Then, there’s the obligatory biryani. Chicken biryani. It’s okay. But only okay. The daal and the lamb are much better in my opinion.

The Mango Lassi: I didn’t take a photo, but it was GREAT.

The Service: Either VERY attentive (i.e., translating all the menu items for us) or completely non-existent.

The Verdict: This is a long way to go for food, but it was cheap. And good. Especially the daal that we sent back. This is why dining family style can be problematic at times.

The post Mirch Masala first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Sunday, July 11th, 2009

The Victims: Sarah, Bernard, Arielle

The Damage: £7 for the tour.

The Background: Sarah (she of Freebiegate) texts me on Saturday night and says, “Do you want to go on a walking tour of Southall tomorrow?”

If you’re a London food blogger, Is there any other answer but yes? No. There is not.

The Entrance: I meet everyone at the train and the tour begins. We stop in front of this building. I think it is a sign from God. I briefly consider leaving the tour to register. I think I’d make someone a good wife. Besides for the cooking thing, of course. But I’d learn. I promise.

But now is not the time to dwell on my love life. Or lack thereof. We move on. To Quality Foods.

Inside Quality Foods, I see a lot of things. I see a lot of things I’ve never seen before. Like these vegetables.

And then these peppers…

And then I spot all these paper plates, and I know that next time I’m throwing a party, I’m going to Southall. Because I can hardly ever find large quantities of paper plates, cups, forks, knives, spoons, etc. in this country. Check out the selection! Some of them even had little compartments.

After I take the photo of the paper plates, I think, “Man, people must think I’m weird, taking photos in the grocery store.” But then I see these huge El Paso cans/tins, and how could you NOT take a photo of this??? I’ve never seen this in America…and hey, at £3.99…now that’s a good value.

I wander around for a while and I’m impressed by the spices. There are two whole rows of spices, I think. Lots and lots of spices.

Those are very small bags of spices though. Those would only last you a a couple of months, I suppose. Maybe you should buy these bags instead…yes, those are 5 kg bags of chilli powder, curry powder, etc. But really, what would you do with all of that?

The Verdict: Fun. Really fun. Is that odd, for me to say a grocery store is fun? Maybe. Or maybe not.

The post A Trip to Southall first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Tuesday, August 12

The Victim: Fellow London restaurant blogger, Jess

The Damage: £60 total, but I drank more than Jess (like I always do, except for that time at The Ledbury earlier this year–which I still haven’t written about–when I wasn’t drinking at all) so we split it £40/£20.

The Background: Jess, my fellow London restaurant blogger, has been busy. Very busy. My busy-ness pales in comparison. We are trading notes at Urban Turban in the pouring, pouring rain.

When I first moved to London, I had two little tiny umbrellas. The kind that fold up and fit in your pocket. I never remembered to bring them anywhere, so I would more often than not walk around town sopping wet. Nowadays, I have about twelve umbrellas (and a tumble dryer), most of the umbrellas given to me by taxi drivers because I am totally shameless. When I am in a taxi in the pouring rain, I often tell my drivers about my two measly umbrellas and how I can’t believe how often it rains here.

What I’ve learned is that most cab drivers have their own stash of found umbrellas under their front seat. Ask, and you shall receive.

But of course, the more things change, the more things stay the same. Even though I now I have about 12 umbrellas, they’re always at home. Or at the office. Never in my bag.

The Drinks: Urban Turban strikes me as the sort of place that would have lots of umbrellas. The little paper kind that they stick in drinks. I don’t have the chance to test this theory because I stick to Proseco. And beer. And Jess has a glass of rose. But Urban Turban has something a little festive about it. Particularly downstairs, which looks a little clubby for an Indian restaurant. But I suppose everyone needs a gimmick.

The Food: Jess and I have so many stories to trade that umbrellas (the real sort) are not necessary after our naan and chicken tikka and spicy prawns and saag paneer. (And prosecco. And rose. And beer.) The skies are clear again, although my brain is a little foggy. Partly with the alcohol. Partly with the food for thought. That Jess, she is full of insights! We’ve had a lot of fun for a random Tuesday night.

The Verdict: You know, here’s the thing with me and Indian food. I still feel like my takeaway next door serves food just as good if not better for one-third of the price. While Urban Turban has a nice modern vibe about it and it seems like a fun place, I’m not entirely certain the food is worth the dinero. Oh, and the "Indian tapas" thing and the "street food" thing…I don’t get that either.

The post Urban Turban first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, April 12, 2008

The Victims: K&A

The Damage: £50 each?

The Background:K & A are leaving me. I'm devastated. There's something nice about having someone (K) around who you've known since you were 18. (A's not so bad either.) They are heading back to New York. Shortly. Like within the next thirty days. This is our first of what will hopefully be many farewell dinners. 

They've picked Vama, a Chelsea Indian restaurant, despite telling me on the phone that they really want some fish and chips. I triumph over London Transport YET AGAIN and figure out how to take the tube to the bus to the restaurant all by myself in my new shoes–gray, patent leather, Mary Janes with a heel. I am trying to save my feet as much as possible. I seriously still do not understand how women walk in this city. I am constantly carrying around "traveling shoes." (Proving, yet again, that you can take the girl out of Long Island, but you can't take the Long Island out of the girl.)

The Food: We are off to a solid start…complimentary bhajis are on the table when I arrive. We get some tikka masala, some spinach and potato thingies that arrive as deep fried fingery looking things (not what I was expecting) and some more bhajis. We're happy, more or less.

The Mains: I order one of their specials, lamb cooked in a spicy spinach sauce. While the spinach sauce is great, the lamb is stringy and old looking. Hmmm. I push it aside. K gets some more tikka masala, which is nice, but my local curry house does it better–and cheaper. A gets a chicken dish whose name escapes me. All in all, it's all "nice." They're nice. It's fine.

The Verdict: Fine. But I probably won't be back.

The post Indian: Vama first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Sunday, October 14th

The Victims: Vir, Evren, Richard, Rutton

The Damage: £20-something each

The Background: I have never been to the Frieze Fair. I read about it every year, but somehow never quite make it.

This year, I made it. And now I can truly say, "Been there. Done that."

And I'm never going back.

And I like art! (But I guess that's like saying I like bread. Everyone must like art, no?)

But I think I like modern art better than contemporary art. And I think I like fonts and patterns and designs and Scandinavian things more than anything else.

It was the dead horse at the Frieze fair that did it for me. That is not art! That is taxidermy, firstly. And secondly, dead horses are GROSS.

But let me get into my meal here, and I promise that there are no dead horses involved.

I am hanging out with bankers. And like all good bankers in London on a Sunday afternoon, we are at The Westbourne. (For the record, I am not a banker. But I do enjoy the odd discounted-cash-flow-model and I know what CAPM is.) I have my very large and dark sunglasses with me (this year's model are from Calvin Klein courtesy of Stansted Duty Free), but it is unfortunately too dark for them to be of any use. That being said, this doesn't deter many a Westbourne patron from wandering in and out of the pub with their sunnies on.

The topic of food arises, and Vir suggests an Iranian restaurant…we hop in a taxi only to arrive and find it 200% packed, and it's a Sunday night. I have been blindfolded and sworn to secrecy regarding the name and location of this place, and I am not ever allowed to write a restaurant review about it. (If i do review it, I can't reveal its name.) I can tell you that I think it was yellow inside. We are turned away.

So instead, we head to Shola, where Vir knows the owner. My cover is completely blown when my Moo card is provided to the restaurant staff and I am introduced as a famous London restaurant critic. (Although my blog is popular with the people, it's not THAT popular, although they did ask me to be on Market Kitchen!) I lose any and all arguments about how this is supposed to work.

The Food: A whole lot of nan, and the other bread–whose name escapes me, but it's almost tortilla-like. Then there are some lamb chops, which I love. And some chicken that's been marinated and grilled and is lovely. Someone orders more beer at this point which is a very very bad idea. Luckily, they are out of beer! And I am momentarily happy until the guys (bankers, after all) question how the restaurant could be out of beer.

The restaurant staff run across the street to buy some for us.

From here, things get a little hazy, but I remember sitting in front of the lentils and really enjoying those. There was a lot of food. Too much. I tried a bit of everything but as I sit here a few nights later writing this, I can only remember the lamb chops, the lentils, and all the nan and <insert mysterious bread name here>.

The Loos: Yuk.

The Verdict: Not a destination, that's for sure. If I lived in the area, I might drop in to pick up a take-away every so often. And if I were having a party, I might ask for a platter of 50 lamb chops.

The post Indian: Shola first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Friday, March 2, 2007

The Victims: Brook, Shane, Suzanne, Tory

The Damage: £15 each

The Background: After a couple of after work drinks, it made sense to have dinner. I suggested a certain Brick Lane (hey, I think it’s fun), but as it turns out, Shane’s wife got really sick after our last visit to Brick Lane (and you know I am convinced they all share one kitchen underground) so we skipped that and headed to Exmouth Market.

I really wanted to go to Dollar Grills and Martinis, but alas, it was jam-packed so we were denied. Luckily, Gulshan Tandoori was right across the market. We (well, I really–and the rest followed) marched straight in.

I’ve never seen people so glad to see me. The staff were so nice and friendly and welcoming. It was nice.

The Loos: Not so nice and welcoming. Very wet. UGGH. Gross.

The Food: You must remember that by this point, the beverages had been flowing for quite some time. So everything, in my mind, was quite delicious. Particularly the chicken jalfrezi. I think that was the table favorite. The palak paneer was also quite nice. And the garlic naan, was, of course, a great way to mop everything up.

The Verdict: Friendly service. Good food. Nice prices. A dependable standby. But gotta do something about the loos.

The post Indian: Gulshan Tandoori first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Friday, October 21 2006

The Victims: K & A and A’s mom

The Damage: 50 quid. Ack!

The Damage: A’s mom was in town from Denver, on a whirlwind trip of the British Isles. I missed them earlier at Borough–the office on a Saturday, unfortunately!–so I caught up with them at Zaika.

Now Zaika, from what I understand, used to have a Michelin star. Atmosphere wise, I can see it. It’s a pretty dark and romantic place. (I get the sense it’s also one of those "You can only have the table for two hours" types of places.) If someone took me here on a date, I’d be impressed.

The Cocktail: I was there right on time, if not a little early, as is my thing. I sat alone at the bar, learning about the cocktails from the (somewhat affected) bartender. He sold me on the French martini. Note I am not a martini drinker, but he convinced me. It was like iced tea. I liked it.

The Service: A number of different people, all from different places. (i.e., not necessarily all from the general vicinity of India.) Nice enough, particularly the guy who described every dish to us.

The Starters: We went with the Zaika platter and the cheese platter.  These are both supposed to be for one person, but I honestly thing they could be easily split by two if not three. There was salmon, duck sausage, a goat’s cheese samosa, and something else that escapes me. On the cheese platter, there was some paneer (yum) and some stilton cheese balls (Bobby Rubino’s anyone?) But then there was the delicious chickpea tower…the menu online notes it’s made up of the following:
Potato and asparagus ‘tikki’, chickpeas laced with tamarind chutney, sweetened yoghurt & ‘garam’ flour vermicelli, topped with crispy artichoke. Well, I didn’t see much potato, but it sure was delicious.

The Mains: I went with the "TIKHI MACHLI / Spicy sea-bass Pan fried spice marinated sea-bass with ‘Dosa Aloo’-crushed potatoes tempered with lentil and mustard seeds served with ‘Sambhar’ sauce." It was really good. But £17 of good? Of that, I am not sure. K&A got the butter chicken and it looked really nice, but I do wonder if it’s any better than my local curry shop, which is so absolutely fantastic. A’s mom got the Lamb Roganjash, and while it did look lovely, my local curry shop is just so wonderful that I don’t know if the atmosphere is worth the premium?

Drama: I pulled apart my nan a little too forcibly and threw my water glass across the table at K and down to the floor, where it shattered into a hundred million pieces. Good grief.

Tea: I went with the indian tea and it was lovely, and they gave me some little petit fours, which were a nice touch.

The Verdict: You will leave here happy but poor and with a new appreciation of your local curry shop.

The post Expensivo Indian: Zaika first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.