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At the start of April, one full year into the launch of this Blog and the subsequent Website, the count was 30,000.
Having been nominated as Curry Lover of The Year 2011, the count started to accelerate with 500 hits per day becoming the norm.
There is only one way to celebrate the arrival of six figures: a full portion of Yadgar’s Goshat Karahi has been removed from the freezer. At the moment the counter hits 100,00, Hector will have a Curry-Heute.
Hector’s Holländisch Hootenanny, a Brugge too far, is over
It is back to life in the real world, or Glasgow to be precise. The outstanding Curry of the trip was Amsterdam’s Moti Mahal. With four diners eating different dishes, I have no hesitation in adding it to the list of Hector’s Recommended Curry Houses. In terms of Belgium, it really was a Brugge too far. Nepalese Chefs were criticised in a few conversations I had in Belgium and Nederland.
For as many years as I can recall, my first homecoming Curry-Heute has been at The Village. Today I find myself in Yadgar (148 Calder Street, Glasgow G42 7QP). This says it all.
Today at 15.45, the Goshat Karahi with Vegetable Rice was served. If there is a better Curry served in Glasgow, Hector has not found it.
The Beaming Chef, Mr Shah, emerged from the kitchen half way through my feasting to share in my enjoyment. He knows, you know. I have long being trying to fathom what it is that gives the Yadgar Curry such an edge. 
Today it was the fresh Coriander which stood out; however, the familiar rich smooth flavours were just as I have experienced on every trip.
Now my thoughts turn to Stornoway Blackpudding, Square Sliced Sausage, Pie and Beans, and a special Mince and Tatties to welcome home Marg. With Marg in South Africa for another week, there is nothing to stop Hector enjoying himself further. Hector may manage another Curry-Heute before then.
The first Haarlem visit
On our route to the Jopen Brewery we happened across two Curry Houses in Haarlem. Having done some research on the train coming across from Amsterdam, India Palace (Gedempt Oude Gracht 29, 2011 GL, Haarlem, Nederland) looked as though it could be the better option.
After our afternoon ritual at Jopen, the six of us entered India Palace, the décor was immediately impressive, or twee depending on one’s take on these things. With the walls adorned in Indian artwork and the staff wearing Saris, this was a distinct attempt at creating the right atmosphere for a Curry. Personally, I am more interested in the food and these days prefer to eat in the bare surroundings typical of a Glasgow/Bradford/Manchester Curry Café.
The drinks order was nil, this appeared to take the staff aback. What could they possibly have to match where we had come from? Having picked up a takeaway menu on the way past, we all knew what we wanted, alas Hector changed his mind at the last minute, to his sorrow.
Craig, the new Curry-Man and Yvonne chose Lamb Jalfrazi. Robin ordered Chicken Tikka Tandoori, and both Dr Stan and Jonathan went for Lamb Karahi which had been hector’s original choice. Alas, the sight of Lamb Chops Masala swayed me with the opportunity once again of guaranteeing Lamb on-the-bone.
Poppadoms and the usual Low Countries’ Mint Raita and Sweet Chilli Dips were set before us.
After a respectable time, the meals arrived. Yvonne and Craig were very happy with the flavour of their Jalfrazis, Robin was delighted with his Tikka. The fact that an accompanying dish of Masala accompanied this was pleasing, as his Biryani in Gent did not. The Chaps on the Karahi were also impressed with the taste of their dishes.
Lamb Jalfrazi Lamb Karahi
Chicken Tikka Tandoori
But what of Hector’s Curry?
Lamb Chops Masala
I had made a tremendous blunder. On the takeaway menu it was clear that Lamb Chops was in the section of Tikka Masala. In the house menu this was under Lamb. It did not dawn on me that I had ordered the Lamb Chops equivalent of Chicken Tikka Masala. This is not a Hector Curry!
The red pureed Onion Masala rich with the local equivalent of Campbell’s Tomato Soup is not my idea of a Curry at all. That the first Chop was well under done nearly made me send it back. They provided me with a small pot of red hot Chilli just to Spice things up, this was used liberally. I ate the lot, including the Chapatti, it was my blunder, and I had to live with it.
The Bill
€92.00 for six people, no starters, no drinks. For such a pucka place this was not too bad at all.
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The Verdict
The overall flavour was pleasing to those who chose sensibly. The main consideration was that everyone left feeling hungry. The portions were far too small. The consensus was that half as much again meat wise, would have made this a much more memorable and enjoyable experience.
This was Hector’s first full day in Amsterdam. On the train in from our hotel at Schipol, Robin, Craig and Yvonne realised that with a long day in front of us, a good intake of food would be required to set us up for the day. With Robin once again leading us along a merry path, we found ourselves walking along the main dual carriageway from the station to Dam. Mr Google showed two restaurants along this street, The Moti Mahal (Nieuwezijds Voorburgwal 34, 1012 SB, Amsterdam) was directly across from us.
It was 12.30, we were the first customers of the day. A young waiter showed us to a corner table at the window. The menu had nothing out of the ordinary, no Karahi, no Desi dishes, the classic UK 1980s menu. Lamb Vindaloo was to become the Hector Curry of choice, not for the heat but because the magic word Herbs appeared. A tall elegant gentleman resplendent in a turban came to take the order. Robin opted for Lamb Rogon Josh, Yvonne the Lamb Madras, and Craig a not-so-baby-Curry, Chicken Jalfrezi. Little did he know what he had done. Hector ordered a Roti so as to dip the Masalas.
Four very large Poppadoms a were presented with the Spicy Sweet dip I had experienced at Namaskar, and the same Mint Raita. These were devoured, this was breakfast.
Now for lunch
The visual experience was encouraging. The Masalas were all thick and rich in texture. Although Oil was evident there was not a lake of Oil covering the food. So far so good.
Lamb Vindaloo
The first dip was superb. This was hot, really hot. I do not normally order a Vindaloo, usually it is the last resort, this was stupendously hot. Did I say it was hot? This was the hottest Curry Hector has eaten in years. Heat is not what a Curry is necessarily about. There was wonderful Citrus after-taste that was reminiscent of Glasgow’s Village, remember – The Village? The sweat was pouring, the Curry consumed, the bowl was scraped clean. This is the best fun Hector has had this vacation.
Yvonne was first to be positive about her Madras. She stated she would certainly order this again if back in town. It was Spicy, but not excessively so. Yvonne too was getting the Citrus flavour.
Robin just eats his Curry. Very enjoyable – was his statement, and far from his description of his previous Belgian experience.
Poor Craig
Craig, the baby became Craig the man.
F
rom his first taste I could see sitting opposite that his eyes had taken the full whack. I could tell his dish was hotter than he had bargained for. He continued eating. More Rice was applied. The inclusive Rice was in generous portions. Yvonne was clearly worrying about her beau. Still Craig ate on. We tried his Masala, it was way hotter than the Madras! It was not as hot as the Vindaloo, did I mention the Vindaloo was hot. Craig stuck with it, it was the flavour that was driving him on. This was a Curry way beyond Craig’s comfort zone, yet he ate every last piece of meat and grain of Rice on his plate.
Our waiter had been in attendance to ascertain the level of our enjoyment. He came across as genuinely interested. I was honoured at the end of the meal to have the photograph taken.
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The restaurant was officially not open. They normally do not open until mid afternoon. Today a group of about twenty were there for lunch, all in traditional dress. Someone’s birthday? I wonder what they made of us? Hector was almost applauding as he left the Moti Mahal.
This was a magnificent Curry experience.
Robin’s Random Ramblings took us past two Curry Houses within minutes of Amsterdam Centraal. The first was South Indian, the second, Indiaas Restaurant Namskar (Haarlemmerstraat 47, 1013EJ, Amsterdam) looked more interesting. Perhaps the suspicion of less coconut?
Hector left the Chaps at Arendsnest, one of the premier Bier Houses in Amsterdam, they had Bier on their mind, Hector had Curry-Heute.
The Lone Diner
Have I written this before? The place was well stowed when I had passed at 16.00. This had been a moments persuasion. The Lamb Chops Curry advertised in the window menu was the main feature.
At 18.00 I took my seat, the place was empty, but more arrived during my meal. The order was given. The complementary Poppadoms arrived, with dips. The red dip was sweet-ish but spicy, a new taste. As the Chef was not that busy it did not take too long for the Curry to arrive.
The Lamb Chops were piled high on a rather small steel dish. This was not scrawny Lamb, there was meat. The Masala was not a soup but a Onion rich presentation that wowed. Given the nonsense of the previous week, Hector was on his way.
The Lamb Chop Curry
I have written in previous entries how I had yet to come to terms with waiters telling me that Lamb Chops was the way ahead. Now maybe I am coming to terms with this. The Lamb is on-the-bone. Hopefully it has been marinated. On this occasion there was little evidence that the Lamb had met the Masala before the plate. This is in no way a criticism. There was a new flavour coming from the Lamb and the Onion rich Masala that was making Hector take note. This was no accident. There was a new ever so slightly sweet flavour emanating from the meal, this was thoroughly enjoyable. The Spice hit was not overwhelming, this was just thoroughly pleasant, yes, enjoyable.
Hector will certainly consider a return visit, this was an impressive Curry. Not an A List recommendation by any means, but certainly good enough.
The Bill
The Calling Card was dispensed as the cash was parted with. Oh, how this moment focuses the mind of the suppliers. The conversation got under way:
There are about thirty Indian restaurants in Amsterdam. About half are good. Those with Nepalese Chefs are not.
We discussed Belgium, Nepalese Chefs were to blame.
This concurs with what was stated in Brugge. Let this information be noted. If there is something political behind this I know not, I care not. Hector is out in search of perfect Curry-Heute.
Cook it and I will come.
This was Neil’s discovery in his wanderings around the area of Gent Sint Pieters, the main railway station. This in itself was a good omen.
On our return from the day trip to Antwerp which will have full coverage on Bier-Traveller.com, we entered Salt’n Pepper (Maria Hendrikaplen 38, 9000, Gent) just on 21.00. The restaurant was full except on table for seven in the corner covered in debris from the previous occupants. We were four. The table became ours and took some time to be cleared. This gave us time to work out that few people were eating, most were waiting for their main courses. The occasional Samosa was brought out, the wait would be a long one.
Much, much more than one Robin
We had to convince Robin that he had to choose between going or staying, he chose to stay.
Hector ordered a Bier! Keeping tabs on the progress of Glasgow Rangers v Malmo, and the slow but sure serving of the other diners, a glass of Kasteel Blond was the suitable accompaniment. Neil had the Brun. Howard had a cola, Robin some water, we were set.
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The Order
Moghulai Kadai Gosht (hot) was sought by Howard and Hector. Robin ordered Lamb Biryani, and Neil the Bengal Fish. We were assured that Rice and Nan came with the meals. A couple of Poppadoms made an appearance along with a single Dip.
The Long Wait
By the time the meal arrived Rangers looked as though they were well out of the Champions League. A home defeat… The plates arrived just after 22.00, normally Robin would have been well gone.
The Kadai was advertised as – traditional Indian cooking. The staff all looked Indian, so they know what Curry is. Once again I find myself asking why they serve up this poor impersonation of Curry? It is surely as easy to present proper Indian food as it is to produce this bland nonsense. The Masala in the Kadai at least was Onion based, this had been pureed. The Lamb was fine but one felt had just been introduced to the Masala, not cooked in it.
The colour was wrong, the taste was wrong: Sweet. The plain Pilau Rice and the lack of any Vegetable made this a rather uninteresting meal to eat, no diversity of texture or flavour. We had asked for it hot, a waste of time evidently. I felt the Nan was the best part of the meal, Robin thought it was the worst.
Robin’s Biryani came with plain Pilau Rice and the Lamb buried underneath. No Vegetables in the Rice, no side dish of Masala. Is this a Biryani? Robin stated that this was the worst Curry he has had for some time, and he cannot remember the last one this poor.
Howard had already accessed a social medium to air his feelings – dreadful.
Neil thought his Bengal Fish was quite good. We had a dip of his Masala and thankfully it was more appropriate. I did not think the Onion content of the Masala was credible, Neil may disagree.
We were hungry, it took us ten minutes to eat and leave.
The Bill
€77.00 There was no tip.
I gave the Calling Card to the waitress, the Chef appeared around the counter smart-ish to find out the progeny.
Update 2023
It should not come as a surprise that this place is closed.
Today was the first day in Hector’s Hollandisch Hootenanny, a Brugge too far, when everything had actually gone like clockwork.
‘T Brugs Beertje was open, Daisy was back from vacation, the Chaps were in appreciative mode when Hector left them to try and secure a Brugge Curry.
Sitar was now a Pizza restaurant, along the same street. The Indien Klassieke is now renamed the Taj Mahal (Philipstockstraat 6, 8000, Brugge) a venue which looked as if it was being refitted back in February when Marg and Hector last walked along this street. Hector had passed today earlier, the sign said open from 12.00 until 15.00. They weren’t.
This was the last chance saloon: I left Daisy’s at 20.30 and crossed the Maarkrt to the Taj Mahal. The door was open, the lights were out, there was some activity.
‘Are you open?’ Clearly they weren’t but this not deter a Hector in search of a Curry-Heute.
‘We are closed on Mondays.’
‘You are never open.’
‘I was here in February and you did not open all week.’ A slight exaggeration, I was there three nights.
The Chap mellowed: ‘I will cook you a Curry, what do you want?’
Lamb, Herbs, Coriander were all listed. This would be very much a case of take what one can get, it could not be worse than the Himalaya in Gent, surely?
There was much cleaning going on, I was told Monday was cleaning day. Two Poppadoms, the good ones, laced with Cumin were set before me. Two dips too.
This was a genuine Indian Curry House, staffed by Indians. There was hope. There was time to enquire – who was doing the cooking? – about what happened to their neighbours. Apparently their Chef trumped a Nepalese Chef, end of…
The Chef was not present, this was a Curry prepared by the new manager. If a Curry House cannot knock out some sort of Curry at short notice there must be something wrong. I was told later that this was the preparation for lunchtime tomorrow. Many Scots and English apparently frequent their premises.
The dim of the night
The Curry arrived. I sat, The Lone Diner in the semi darkness. The restaurant was closed, what is the opposite of a lock-in?
The Lamb was slightly tough, it could have done with another hour. The portion was not huge and no Vegetable was present as I would have preferred. Plain Rice was the accompaniment. Still, this Curry was the proverbial gift horse.
The Masala was splendid, the use of Onion was most evident, this was a Curry. The taste was not overwhelming, but it had some pedigree. A small bowl of fresh Green Chillies was put before me, a nice touch, I left one. It took no time to wolf down the meal. A Lamb Curry at last, one that I can remember for the best of reasons.
The Curry was genuine, it was prepared by the Manager in a restaurant that was actually closed. You do not make this up. Pity this Blog did not start some years ago and I could relate the tale of the Koln Curry House where the place was in fact being locked up and we still managed to sit in and eat Curry.
This is a Curry Hector will never forget. I express my thanks and appreciation to Ramanjot/Gurjit for the hospitality.
The Bill
€17 was the list price according to the lovely lady with the menu, €15 was taken.
I did not leave my card, it felt too threatening to do so at the time. I shall post one the old fashioned way soonest.
The train back to Gent was caught with two minutes to spare, a perfect day out.
A full description of the day, without Curry, is at Bier-Traveller.com
This restaurant is popular with the locals, they may never actually have eaten a genuine Curry.
Himalaya (Oudburg 1, 9000 Gent, Belgium) was one of the two Gent Curry Houses which Google Maps revealed, Raj being the other. Both are located along the canal bank opposite the world famous Waterhuis where The Friends of Hector had been royally welcomed by Jeff, the brewer at Steen Brugge. (cf Bier-Traveller.com)
When it was declared Curry Time, Neil and Le Frere Gerard found themselves sitting opposite Hector. The Lamb Kadai looked as though it would tick enough boxes: the thick sauce and the mention of herbs was tempered by the Green Chilly. What did they mean? In order to avoid the dreaded Capsicum I asked the waiter:
The Green Chilly, are they long, thin and spicy, or are they bell shaped shaped and sweet?
They are are red!
Try again
I established they were indeed Capsicum so I turned to the the Lamb Spinach. Palak Gosht, in Belgium? Neil ordered a Fish Curry, Lamb would have kept us prisoner all night with his chewing regime. Thoughtful. Le Frere Gerard had a Lamb Dansak, I think. These may have been the only two words I heard throughout, apart from – OK – at the end.
The Poppadoms
Three conical and minimal Poppadoms were issued. The dips were minimal too. Within minutes the Mains arrived. Once again I can only describe my own meal.
What is this that stands before me?
Palak Gosht
This is (normally) a dark Curry, with a thick Masala, and challenging on the palate. Tonight Hector was presented with a yellow, thin Masala, bits of Lamb and some green stuff strewn over the top, maybe as an afterthought. I was less than impressed. Actually, I was appalled.
There was a hint of Spice to distinguish the dish from a plate of stew. The colour was horrendous. The Masala may n
ever have met a Onion. The Spinach was a topping, this was not a Lamb-Spinach Curry.
Diabolical
Why do Chaps who know what Curry is serve this up to the good people of Europe? This is insulting the good name of Curry. Was there a Chef? Has he ever been trained in the art of pulping Onions? One has to despair. Such venues would not last a night in Glasgow.
A Post Apperitif
A liqueur which looked like Lassi came with – The Bill.
The Bill
€51.00 was the damage. For what?
Neil said his Fish Curry was – OK – the Dansak looked thin. My own meal was simply poor.
The Aftermath
I gave the Doris my Calling Card:
Tell the Chef not to commit suicide next week when he sees the revue of this Curry. This is the worst Curry I have had in ages. Actually, Bamberg to be precise.
You mean today? – the waitress responded, no doubt looking at the Curry-Heute card.
Yes, today, now, here in Gent…
The restaurant was full. People eat this? I looked in at the Raj on the way back. All décor and atmosphere, few customers. Is this for the discerning diner? It will probably take another trip to Belgium to find out.
The Bombay Indien Restaurant (Rue Rogier, Namur, Belgium) was the first Curry House The Friends of Hector located just around the corner from the Ibis Hotel (Rue de Lanciers). The prices advertised outside necessitated an audible groan from Hector, €17 for a Moutton Karahi, ouch. Despite trying the Taj Mahal first, I knew I would end up back here.
An afternoon spent on Le Chemin de Fer du Bocq, featuring a Train a Vapeur between Ciney and Spontin had put Hector in the hunger zone. The report on the Comptoir de Famille, the worst service we have ever received in a Belgian Cafe, should put Spontin clearly on the map. Hopefully all future search engines will come up with: ‘Comptoir de Famille, Chaussee de Dinant, 25, 5530, Spontin, Belgium, do not go! Bier-Traveller tells the story.
Arriving just on 17.30, Bombay was not open yet and so we went around another corner to the Thai Cafe (Rue Nameche) for a small Bier and copious amounts of Cheese covered in Celery Salt, superb. This could become a key cooking ingredient in Hector’s future culinary experiments.
Just after 18.00 we became the Bombay’s first customers. By the time we left I counted at least fifteen other diners, most tables were occupied. This place does well.
Le Frere Gerard ordered a Lamb Kashmiri which confused Hector slightly as it sounded the same as my usual. The waiter put me right when I asked for it – Hot. Sorry, it’s Moutton Karahi I want. Peter ordered a Lamb Madras, Dr Stan a Lamb Bhuna, and Neil a Chicken Bhuna. Chicken…
Various Rices were the accompaniments. Riz Frit was as close to my norm as I could find, a suitable number of vegetables should hopefully be contained therein.
Baskets of Demi-Poppadoms were presented with the normal Chutneys. The Mango was particularly satisfying. One dip must have been Balsamic Vinegar. It went everywhere but was a novel inclusion.
The meals were brought on a trolley, Hector’s was last to arrive. Sizzling hot on the Karahi it looked genuine enough. There was a very pleasant Spicy taste, nothing too distinctive but thoroughly pleasant. There was one fundamental thing wrong with it. They brought Hector a Chicken Curry!
Come back!
I drew the waiter’s attention to the blunder. He went away to check, ‘I did write down Moutton.’ he assured me and shook his head in the direction of the kitchen. He apologised. Indeed, I believe he apologised twice more. The waiter had previously told us that he is from the Punjab, India. He was well familiar with the Curry served in the cities of England but not Scotland.
The Chicken Karahi was more Stir-Fry than what would be served under this name in the UK. I enjoyed it, in spite of everything. Compared to the rival, this place is streets ahead.
Pour les Autres
Le Frere Gerard’s Kashmiri was as creamy as one would expect. I did not see much in the way of Fruit. The Brothers were reluctant to say anything about their meals other than that they were OK. Not literary minded then.
Dr Stan, enigmatic as ever had a Bhuna which looked very dry indeed. Neil’s Chicken equivalent did not look so impressive. There was enjoyment on their part. Blood and stone comes to mind.
L’addition
€102. It could have been worse given the prices advertised outside. We only had water in a deliberate attempt not to end up paying off the Belgian National Debt.
We were seen off the premises with a smile and a further apology. If one is in Namur and one needs a Curry, this has to be the place to go.
We retired to Le Chapitre (Place de Chapitre) and continued the main purpose of the trip…to discuss Steam Locomotives, not…
The Taj Mahal (Rue Godefroid 31, 5000, Namur, Belgium) was the second Curry House Hector encountered in his first hour in Namur. The prices here looked more reasonable. No doubt, by the end of the week, both shall be reported.
Hector sat as ever, The Lone Diner, or perhaps on this occasion The Last Man Standing. Another table were engaged in the process of ordering Curry-Heute, I surveyed the menu.
Fish Curry
The lovely waitress approached and soon realised that I had not just strayed in off the street, I was here to eat Curry. The menu was so bog standard I would have walked had this been a Curry House in Scotland. ‘We do not have Curries like England.’ I was supposedly assured. ‘I am from Scotland!’
Mein Host appeared, of African/Middle East origin I supposed, I was later assured he was Indien, aye right…
Again he repeated that I would not find the same Curry as in ‘England’. This is peculiar. The Menu was a clone of any high street Curry House from thirty years ago, the same old tired dishes. So, just how poor were these?
‘There is no Lamb.’ This was not a good thing to tell Hector, fortunately by this time I had focused on the Fish: No. 37 – Royal Bengal – ragout de poisson de moutarde, pommes de terre, citron, coriander fraiche. ‘I will cook you the Fish myself and give you Chapattis’ Mein Host assured me as he took the order. The lovely Doris was perhaps no more. ‘There will be a fifteen minute wait.’
I was given my normal Sparkling Water and a Poppadom. The latter was so stale I could not finish it. Plenty of time to make the above notes. The staff must have sensed something, they kept approaching me for assurance that all was well. The occasional clandestine photo and and intense note taking may worry them more at the end of this report.
The meal arrived, an elongated plate of Fish in the thinnest Masala I have seen….since Bamberg? There was no sign of the Potato, a slice of Lemon sat atop the presentation. Exactly how much Onion had been pulped to make the Masala? The two ordered Chapattis had never seen a flame, how white can you serve a Chapatti?
The customary dip of the Chapatti into the Masala…. nothing. This was very poor indeed. Don’t ask me what Fish it was never mind the last tree in the boulevard. Hector knows Curry and this was at the poor end of the scale.
Another lovely lady asked if I was enjoying the meal. ‘I am eating.’ wa
s as much as I could honourably give away. There was nothing wrong with the meal, it was freshly cooked, there was a sense of Spice. It just did not do anything to enhance the reputation of the Indian dish called Curry.
I of course ate the lot. I had the photo taken with the most obliging Doris. The staff were lovely.
I had hoped for a Curry.
The Bill
€24. The Fish itself was €16. So much for ‘I shall give you some Chapattis.’ This was way overpriced. How much was the Water? Perhaps a reality check is required. If they know they are not serving the quality of Curry produced in the UK then this is an admission of inferiority. Why can the good people of Namur not be presented with what even the proprietor might recognise as Curry?
A description of the Non-Curry events of the day is at Bier-Traveller.com
