58 days ago · Food · hide · Fediverse post

Nepalese restaurants are like buses; you wait for 43 years for one only to find out that the second one isn’t a bus at all, but a milk float with false advertising and a dodgy engine. Admittingly, that opening line is a push, even by my low standards, but it’s right. Last month I went to The Gurkha Bar & Grill in Stourbridge and heaped praise on the Nepali dishes. Now I’m in Gurkha Imperial Dining in Bromsgrove, a restaurant that identifies as being Nepali in a similar level to me identifying as modest. We’re here with Sophie’s friends from her school years, having one of those catch-ups that get increasingly further apart the older you get, with my wife bringing her ageing husband along for the ride. I’m sitting picking through a not-so-great great curry that I’ve been told is a Nepalese speciality. With this I am drinking a whisky and coke that has no whisky. At least the company is good. I suppose the warning signs were there. The menu is one long drawn out story of a trek, with…

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