Snarfing a curry on The South Bank, remembering The New Bengal 

Soon after I discovered beer, I made my first acquaintance with curry - together with Jay and Russell, I stumbled into the louche shadowy interior of The New Bengal - the waiters were clad in neat dark suits, white shirts and narrow ties - lamps cast a subdued reddish light - Matthew, Russell's English Sheepdog, a noble creature, waited for us in the Triumph Herald -

The other late night patrons of the New Bengal either lolled or sat bolt upright upon their chairs - they were mostly young men - they could have been bravos in Marlowe's Deptford - their eyes narrowed when they saw us -

We breezed in, clearly drunk, arguing about Coleridge - the bravos relaxed when we ordered lagers and meat tindaloos -

I'd never eaten a curry before - our order was given by Russell - my taste buds were duly incinerated by the dish - but I was hooked - I became a lover of curry -

I continued going to The New Bengal for a number of years - I'm sure Russell once took a frozen chicken from out of the freezer at back - he tucked the icy rugby ball of meat under his velvet jacket - the calm waiters were always exquisitely courteous -

I have since come to appreciate that curry is a subtle dish - I went on a curry cooking course in Alexandra Palace - I became a Spice Monkey -

Recently, I snarfed a delicious Mauritian curry on The South Bank - I was loitering in The Alchemy Food Village - the South Bank was hosting the Alchemy Festival - 

The curry simmered and rippled in a huge pan, as big as a dustbin lid - chunks of lime floated upon the potent contents -

I was cheerily warned about the mango paste - it's very intense - I turned it down - I ate my curry in the open air - spring had at last turned up -

I looked around me at my fellow diners - most of them were creatives - I scooped up my wonderful curry, looking forward to meeting Jay, Sophie and Paul -