Butter Chicken at DASTAAN is the Best in the World (..and so much better than my Dad’s!)

Butter chicken masala curry at Dastaan restaurant Surrey, garnished with cream and coriander

Monday

So Dad decided to make a curry tonight. He called it “leftover curry” because he made it out of vegetables left over in the veg box that he didn’t know what to do with. Like swede. He reckoned if he put it in a curry, perhaps we wouldn’t notice. But when it’s big and orange and tastes disgusting, there’s no way we wouldn’t find out.

You see, me and my big brother are always one step ahead. Nothing gets past us. And if Dad thinks he can sneak onions into a curry, then he’s got another thing coming!

 

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Togetherness and Solitude at Tooting UNWINED

Unwined in Tooting Market combines a food kitchen with a wine retailer

There are times in life when it’s just you. Whether by choice or circumstance, you are going it alone. It’s how it is.

And then there are times when someone joins you for the journey. It could be a relatively fleeting moment, a momentary crossing of ways, a connection that somehow touches you and makes you take notice of something you’ve not noticed before, or helps you along your path, whatever that path might be.

And then sometimes there are those that are with you for the long haul. Through thick and thin. Through richer and poorer. Till death do us part. View Post

Curry & Kneidlach: A Tale of Two Immigrant Families ( – by Shahnaz Ahsan and Aaron Vallance)

Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe in a family photo

 

LONDON, MAY 2016 [on Twitter]

⏩ Hi Shahnaz! Just booked your supperclub! Can’t wait! Aaron

⏩ Yay! Look forward to meeting you! 🙂 Shahnaz

⏩ Me too! Just a chance I might be late. I’m a doctor, so never know what the day will bring.

⏩ You’re a doctor? So, this is a bit of a random question – but did you have a relative who was also a doctor in Manchester in the 1970s? My mother has always spoken very fondly of a Doctor Vallance..

 

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Bao at DADDY BAO; Fathers, Sons & Bedtime Stories

Shittake mushroom bao is an umami hit at Daddy Bao in Tooting.
I remember when it all came to an end. I was 13 years old, much older than I cared to admit to my friends at the time. And when it was all over, my dad and I took a while to come to terms with our shared loss.

For that was the moment – sorely conflicted, but with my mind decidedly made-up – that I told my dad the time had come: from now on, there’d be no more bedtime stories.
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Apples and Honey on Rosh Hashanah; Memories of Auntie Ruth

Apples and honey on Rosh Hashanah, Jewish New Year, symbolise the hope for a good and sweet year ahead.

On Rosh Hashanah it is inscribed,
How many will pass and how many are born,
Who shall live and who shall die..
Who shall rest and who shall wander..

(Unetaneh Tokef)

 

As you can probably tell from this ancient verse, the Jewish version of New Year ain’t some breezy rendition of Auld Lang Syne, cheeky kiss at midnight, and fleeting resolution to give up chocolate. No, Rosh Hashanah is a very different kettle of (gefilte) fish.

It’s Judaism’s annual Day of Judgment no less, when one’s deeds are scrutinised, divine judgement is meted out, and our fates become sealed for the year ahead. It’s like having an annual appraisal with God, but with more guilt and less biscuits.

And as such, Jewish New Year is less an excuse for a knees-up, and more a deeply solemn day of reflection: a day of scrupulously looking back over the year, dutifully recalling one’s past deeds, and endeavouring to make your next-year version an upgrade on the current one. Even for someone like me, whose Jewish identity is more cultural than religious, it can still have a strong resonance.

It can be particularly emotive as it’s also a time for remembering people no longer with us. And for me, that’s none other than my late, great Auntie Ruth..

(Oh, Auntie Ruth. How best to describe you? How best to conjure your spirit and your verve?..)

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