|Gorgeous St Feuillien blond beer.|
You can see my earlier post on Mort Subite here. We all loved this dark authentic Belgian cellar bar but after a few very strong beers perhaps all our judgements were clouded on where we were going to eat. We settled on Mhariam a little local Indian restaurant in Timperley we'd been tipped off was good and authentic. It's only a tram stop down the line too and we all wanted to go and visit the new Frank Sidebottom statue nearby. (We were lucky enough to see him perform at Timperley Conservative club only a few years before he died).
It's a bit of a walk from the station and my stomach was demanding immediate gratification. After a quick obligatory photo shoot (arms around the statue etc), we found our recommended restaurant.
Strangely though the poppadoms were pretty good, freshly made, warm and crisp, the dips were merely adequate. Starters weren't too bad, the seekh kebab fairly standard, but the lamb chops were underdone and fleshy, which is unusual as they're normally over done.
The mains though were a very poor show. Out of four dishes, only Mrs B's Rasthani was any good and close to what you might call 'authentic'. The others were all massively over coloured, over flavoured with too much salt and over sweetened in the case of my Makhani. This was truly dreadful, more like a supermarket korma (the curry for people who don't like curries), sickly sweet (even though I'd asked for it madras hot) and bright yellow - it's the worst curry I've eaten in many years. It's like they tweaked every dish to appeal to the lowest common denominator, and the mainly white local crowd with sugar, colouring and salt. This food was like bad dodgy curries of old before they moved with the times.
|No need for it to be this colour.|
|The only decent one.|
Yes he did have a point there though, I almost sent it back at the beginning, but I just couldn't be arsed and I was so hungry that I would have eaten a scabby horse which would have been preferable. Mrs Bacon had a giggling fit at this point, it was just so bad in every way, the only thing to do was to laugh. We paid up and staggered out to a local pub, where our night would get even more surreal.
This was empty but for a few local 'characters' singing karaoke. One was the spit of Alex Higgins (a few years before he died) and Mark E Smith, but was wearing grey slacks and a cricket jumper draped over his shoulders. I'm well used to places like this from my youth, I am from Stoke after all. But it's been a while.
I was hoping this was all a bad dream and I'd be safely in M21 where we have an array of fantastic bars and a few decent Indian restaurants. Yet here we were in the land that time forgot on a Saturday night. We went with it though and ended up having a right old laugh. My mate got up to do Tom Jones on the karaoke. Deciding it couldn't get any better (or worse) we left (Tom Jones has left the building), for the very long walk back to the tram-stop and eventually the safety of home.
It was genuinely one of the funniest nights we've had in ages and one which I won't forget in a hurry. The curry was totally abysmal though, easily the worst meal of the year with the worst service too.
I told you we should have gone to Mughli!
Soundtrack: Timperley sunset - Frank Sidebottom.
Atmosphere: Untidy cafe, horrible lighting and scruffy decor.
Food: Worst curry I've had out in some time.
Star dish: The Rasthani wasn't too bad.