One of the problems of having so many curry houses in every town in the land is that everyone is a curry expert. People get hung up on their favourite local vindaloo or korma, and judge everyone else's against it. Which is crazy. Decades ago I was taught how to cook Goan Fish Curry by some fishermen on the beach in Goa they even shinned up a palm tree to fetch me a fresh coconut, ground all the spices on a stone and pulped up some fresh tamarind with their toes (I think I'm exaggerating it was a long time ago). Since then, I've tried, and failed, to find an Indian restaurant in the world that serves its equal. I never will succeed, but it hasn't stopped me enjoying some outrageously gourmet versions of this basic artisan dish over the years. When it comes to Indian food, we all need to broaden our taste buds, close our eyes and enjoy the spices. These past few weeks, perhaps because this is the festival of Diwali (though I guess the Hindu Festival of Lights is of scant interest to the average Bangladeshi chef), or maybe because another dreary winter is on its way, I have been enjoying my own personal curry fest.
