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The cutlery at Harafs doesn’t have elegant lines and reassuring weight: it’s a jumble of odds and sods in a canteen style plastic tray. There’s no written menu either, and you’ll probably end up eating with your fingers- there’s a basin by the kitchen if that bothers you- and drinking your soup straight from the Read More
I love watching a chef work the tandoor. It’s something about the calm, economical movements, I think: the minimal fuss. You appreciate their efficiency, especially knowing, from limited experience, how ferociously hot those ovens are; and how reaching in and slapping the dough-laden gaddi ‘pillow’ against the sides- and getting it to stick- is harder Read More
Scuffed tabletops and vinyl banquettes: it’s basic in here. No designer has preened over this interior. It’s certainly Pakistani, rather than another of the typical Bangladeshi-run kitchens which are synonymous with ‘Indian’. There’s a clue in the wall-mounted picture of the Bab-e-Khyber (‘Khyber Gate’), built in 1964 to facilitate trade between Pakistan and Afghanistan. A mixed Read More
Mowgli, Honest, Pho, Rosa’s: Church St has become a hub of the better chains. And now here come Fat Hippo. Starting in Newcastle in 2010, this is not an overnight success story but a steady expansion across the North before the moves to Wales, Birmingham and London. News of their Cardiff arrival was greeted with Read More
If Boney M have taught us anything about Tsarist Russia, it’s this: not only was Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin a lover of the Russian queen, but he was a “cat that really was gone”. Furthermore, as “Russia’s greatest love machine”, “to Moscow chicks he was such a lovely dear”. So far, so good. Not all shared Read More
‘Fusion’ is still a thing, isn’t it? I ask only because there have been a few sightings locally of unlikely culinary marriages, of cuisines you wouldn’t normally associate. The most intriguing of these is a recent opening in Splott, with its head-spinning offer of Hungarian, Indian and peri-peri chicken all across the same threshold. Perhaps Read More
This blog is a very simple thing.
I won’t try to sell you any hand lotion, exercise programmes, coffee syrups or Patagonian nose flutes. You won’t find tips on dating, ‘wellness’ or yoga mats.
I write because I love it (and food, as indicated by my increasing girth). Greed happens to be my Deadly Sin of choice, but at least it is never shy of providing me with subject matter.Â
A simple thing, then: all you get is me wittering on semi-coherently about places I’ve eaten at; hence a ‘restaurant blog’ rather than a ‘food blog’, although there are a few recipes scattered throughout.Â
From mezze to Michelin ‘fine dining’ and all points in between.Â