And so to Wroclaw where to date no outstanding Curry has been found. However, the number of venues has increased, so perhaps people are becoming more aware of Indian Cuisine. Before trying one of the new venues, the decision was made to visit Himalaya Restaurant & Bar (Gajowa 41a, 50-520 Wroclaw, Polska) which Hector has long known about but it is on the wrong side of the tracks, being south of Glowny. There was also the likelihood of this being a Nepalese outfit given the moniker, not Hector’s favourite interpretation of Curry.
Tram 8 was mooted by Mr. Google as being the ideal way to get to Himalaya. The scheduled Tram never showed despite the electronic board reporting its imminent arrival. So, it’s not only in Glasgow where one’s chosen means of transport disappears into thin air. I would have been faster walking, but a downpour was imminent.
It was 13.00 when I eventually reached Himalaya, nobody was front of house. I stood for a few minutes, studied the Menu, then eventually had to shout a – hello – to attract attention. A chap, whose origins may well have been from beyond the east of the Indian subcontinent, came out from the kitchen. He let me choose my table and disappeared again.
Kadai Mutton (Zl 32.00) comes with Rice or a Naan. Capsicum was listed as an Ingredient in other Dishes, – Vegetables – were mentioned as being part of the Kadai. When the chap came out again, he sat beside me with a notepad to record the Order. He did not take heed of my request for – no Papryka – nor did he record my drink – Mirinda – a Fanta variant.
A young Polish Lady emerged briefly from the kitchen, glanced in my direction, made no attempt at acknowledging my presence then retreated to the rear of the premises. I sat alone in the empty restaurant for twenty minutes until three more customers arrived. I had the time to count the six tables which sat twenty six in all. Despite there being tablecloths, this place still had the atmosphere of a Cafe. Restaurant & Bar – the fridges were not exactly stocked with a sufficient stock to call this venue a Bar.
The Lady brought my food, dealt with the three chaps and made no contact with me thereafter. No Mirinda, I can eat Curry without a drink.
The portions looked small. The plain Rice was actually ideal in Quantity.
Kadai Mutton
A big blob of Onion stood out. The minimal Toppings of Ginger Strips and Fresh Coriander amused. Why add them, but give so little? I started decanting, oh no. Three big wedges of Capsicum were encountered, one of each colour. These were not going on my plate. So much for the – Vegetables. I counted the Meat into double figures. Quantity was not going to be an issue, merely that I was about to eat Meat and Masala when I had obviously hoped for a larger array of accompaniments.
The Masala had a decent consistency. It may have been blended then more solids added. The first intake revealed a definite – Tang – and an air of familiarity. The overall flavour was remarkably similar to how my own Curry turns out. Hector suspects Tamarind must have made an appearance here. Ego aside, Hector’s Curry is way better than this. The Curry woefully lacked Seasoning. The Spice Level was right at the bottom of the scale, one has to wonder how much Chilli went onto this. The plate was cold, the Curry was not Hot. As I chewed my way through the not so Tender Mutton, so the Dish became even cooler. By the end I would be eating Cold Curry.
There was a – Clove – blast. At times I felt a slight grittiness in the Masala, probably when I encountered the Ginger Strips. The Meat was not giving off enough Flavour, there was no sense of it being – Spiced.
This was not a bad Curry, it simply could, and should have been so much better. Too homogeneous in Flavour.
It was raining, I decided to stay longer, I would have my Mirinda, a half litre bottle for Zl 6.00. The Waitress was in the room but hiding behind a computer screen. I had to do a – Harrumph. She came over.
Mirinda.
Meer-inda – she repeated.
When she brought it, I asked for the Bill.
The Bill
Zl 38.00 (£7.93) A fair sum.
The Aftermath
Suddenly the Waitress revealed her charm. I assumed she had only a little English, how wrong. On presenting the Calling Card she asked how I found the Curry.
It was OK.
Just OK? – she replied.
I showed the Huawei, there was a smile of recognition when she saw Poznan. I told her that I have had Curry across Polska, Krakow is where I have found the best restaurants.
It’s a pity the Waitress had not been more engaging previously.
By the time I left, three other pairs of diners had entered.
And so to a Bier Festival. Tram 31 would take me from the same stop that I had alighted at earlier. Tram 31 may have got me here sooner.
Menu extracts
