Trinidad and Tobago: Roti Joupa

Apart from the writing what also really lets this blog down is the photography. I'm a food blogger who hates taking photos, plus every camera I own seems to meet a grisly fate, whether stomped on a dancefloor or drowned in a swimming pool. I assure you though, what appears in the first photo to be the unfurled contents of a well used nappy was in fact a bundle of fiery joy, the jewel of Trinidadian street food, the roti.

A legacy of indentured workers from the Indian subcontinent (roughly 40% of Trinidadians are of South Asian ancestry), roti refers to the style of flat bread as well as the dish as a whole. It's a meal in one, a generous dollop of curry (usually goat, chicken or prawn) wrapped in a pocket of roti which has been cooked on a large flat pan called a tawa.

I've been several times to Roti Joupa, a Trinidadian takeaway in North Clapham which has a bit of a cult following, it's packed with customers on a Saturday afternoon. The kitchen behind the counter is a hive of activity with rotis being freshly made in front of you. On this occasion I went for a curry goat roti (which was boneless). You're given a choice of spiciness 'mild, medium or hot' as they add hot pepper sauce to it afterwards. I'm a chilli fanatic, but the cooks at Roti Joupa are fiendish. I find medium there is just right, I've made the mistake of going for hot before and it's a painful experience.

The curry goat was superb, tender chunks of goat melting into a thick, spicy, meaty gravy. It's topped with aloo choka, basically a curried mashed potato, which made it all the more satisfying. The roti itself tasted fresh with a pleasant chewiness and took on a whole new beauty when soaked with the curry juices.

I also had 'doubles' (picture no.2), another Trini street food favourite of East Indian origin. It's curried chickpeas sandwiched between two pieces of fried bread, very similar to the puri you get with prawn puri in curry houses. Topped with a cucumber relish and more hot pepper sauce it's a delicious snack.

Roti Joupa Restaurant. 12 Clapham High Street, London, SW4 7UT - Tel: 0207 627 8637

Arrosticini (fatti a mano!)

Thinking about my favourite food smells, at the summit just above fried onions and really fresh shellfish is the smell of lamb grilling over charcoal. There's alchemy as soon as the first drop of fat hits the glowing embers, producing an intensely sweet, smoky perfume that brings happy memories of summer holidays and heaving plates of meat in Dalston ocakbasi restaurants.

When it comes to the romance between lamb and lumpwood, Turkish and Middle Eastern cuisine is famous, the glorious kebab in particular. One theory being that the cooking method of grilling small pieces of meat on skewers developed as a way of minimising the use of precious fire wood in barren landscapes. Us Brits on the other hand, in our green and pleasant land, were more inclined to roast bloody great big chunks of beef. It wasn't until fairly recently though that I discovered that Italy, specifically the Abruzzo region, has its own version of the lamb kebab, arrosticini.

I say lamb, arrosticini strictly speaking should be made from hogget a young castrated male sheep, although due to availability lamb or mutton is increasingly common. I was introduced to the delights of these small skewers by my Aunt and Uncle who live in Abruzzo and have fallen in love with the region, which has been one of the most isolated and untouched in Italy. Situated on the east side of Italy, with Rome to its West and an Adriatic coastline, Abruzzo's rugged, mountainous landscape meant that shepherding was traditionally the region's most important economic activity. Each spring saw the Transumanza, where shepherds would move millions of sheep to greener summer pastureland high in the Gran Sasso mountain range. Arrosticini developed as part of the cuisine of this nomadic shepherds' lifestyle.

I was lucky enough to get one of the long trough like grills arrosticini are cooked on (called a fornacella) as a birthday present and every once in a while (as I did last Saturday), I indulge in a surfeit of ovine goodness. The beauty of them is that the pieces of lamb are fairly small so they're only a few mouthfuls (you just eat lots of them). Making them in quantity is a time consuming process but well worth the effort. In Abruzzo they make a distinction between the more expensive handmade arrosticini (fatti a mano) and mass produced arrosticini made with a machine which have a square like more uniform appearance. In the butcher's in my Uncle's village it's apparently quite a common sight to see the women of the family sat dwarfed by mountains of lamb pieces, patiently threading them on to bamboo skewers.

Here's a rough recipe for them:

It's very simple, what makes this taste amazing is fat and lots of salt...


Serves 5

Round bamboo skewers (2 packs of 100 will definitely do)
2kg boneless lamb (or hogget) shoulder
Plenty of sea salt


• Soak the skewers in water for at least an hour so they don't burn.

• Cut the lamb into small pieces (see photo for an idea - don't worry about them being too uniform). Don't worry about the fat! In Abruzzo they intersperse the meat on the skewer with disks of fat so you can either do that with any fat you trim off or you can just leave it on the meat. Most of it will melt into the meat during the cooking adding flavour or crisp up beautifully.

• Place in a bowl and season the lamb pieces with a generous handful of salt (don't be scared).

• Thread the meat onto the skewers (be patient!).

• Grill over glowing charcoal embers turning every minute or so for about 4-5 minutes.

Ideally the meat should rest on the skewer above the charcoal but you can cook it directly on a grill also.

It's a very sociable meal and they taste best straight off the grill, so it's a case of eating as you go with everyone stood around the grill, cooking and eating, cooking and eating (which is admittedly much better suited to July than January). Accompany with a glass of Montepulciano d'Abruzzo and bread and olive oil. Anything else is apparently frowned upon. My Uncle witnessed a man being yelled at by the hostess of a restaurant that specialises in arrosticini for asking for a green salad....

Barbados: Bajan Spice

The radio's blasting Gregory Isaacs as I walk into Bajan Spice on a Saturday afternoon, suddenly the DJ pulls up the record, rudely interrupting the 'Cool Ruler', and shouts - 'This one's for Bajan Spice, Clive get my steam fish ready, I'm coming'...show finished and order placed. He arrives excitedly about ten minutes later, leaving his car outside with the doors open and the stereo cranked as he chows down.

For the half hour or so I'm in there the takeaway/restaurant in Nunhead Green Peckham is buzzing with West Indians popping in to collect lunch. The question on everyone's lips 'Is there any souse left?' On Saturday's Bajan Spice offers specials of 'Pudding and Souse' and 'Cou Cou', both lay claim to the title of Barbados's 'national dish'.

'Souse', a Caribbean variation on the Northern European fish preparation, is a fiery concoction of pork (usually trotters, snout, belly and tail) boiled then pickled in lime juice with cucumber, sweet peppers and copious amounts of scotch bonnet. It's served with 'pudding', baked grated sweet potato. Sadly there had been a bit of a run on souse that day so I didn't get to try it, the woman in front of me got the last portion and did a little victory dance. Thankfully there was still some 'Cou Cou' left (pronounced like the nest thieving, clock popping bird).

'Cou Cou' is a thick cornmeal paste with okra which exists in various guises across the islands, I've already encountered, in fact made it, as Antiguan Fungee and Pepperpot. For Bajans I can imagine it's real comfort food but for me it was a bit too stodgy. The accompanying 'Steam Fish' was incredible though, the name's a bit misleading as it's more of a stew. Traditionally made with flying fish I was told, this version had a delicious big tranche of firm, meaty red snapper, bathed in a rich, fishy broth with a hint of coconut milk. It was all washed down with a luminous yellow banana soda, part of a vast selection of Bajan beverages and biscuits under the counter. All in all the meal cost a very reasonable £6.50.

If you're down South East way and interested in trying authentic West Indian cooking that's a bit different from your usual Jamaican standards (they do Jerk chicken etc. too) it's well worth a visit and is supposedly the only Bajan restaurant in London. Oh and if you fancy Souse on a Saturday, make sure you get down there early or call ahead.

Bajan Spice

28 Nunhead Green, Peckham

London, SE15 3QF

Tel: 020 7358 0090

Guyana: Kaieteur Kitchen

We've got four more years to enjoy the culinary and cultural adventure which is the Elephant and Castle Shopping Centre, according to Southwark Council's Regeneration Timeline the South London landmark is marked for demolition in 2014.

Built in 1965 it was the first covered shopping centre in Europe, the crowning glory of a development which the London County Council's planners had envisaged as a 'New Sight of London'. They achieved their aim, in a way, though few visit the gyratory and some 2km of subways to marvel at a multi-layered utopia of man and automobile.

Elephant and Castle is consistently voted one of London's greatest eye-sores with its big red bazaar taking a particular bashing. There's little denying that the regeneration project should benefit the area (and hopefully current residents) yet despite all its grimness, for me E&C holds a certain charm. The shopping centre is a living relic virtually unchanged in more than 40 years. Promenading its cracked marble corridors and basking in the faded glow of multicoloured signage and striplighting is Southwark's answer to cruising in a Chevy around Habana Vieja.

Whilst the structure and decor is caught in a twilight of beautiful decay, the centre's shop keepers represent a more modern face of London. There are numerous money transfer centres, Afro-Caribbean hair and beauty emporiums and more importantly some really interesting places to eat. Inside there's a popular Polish cafe, a curry house and a renowned Colombian cafe, shop and restaurant - 'El Bodeguita'.

Outside, in what can only be described as a moat surrounding the retail bastion, is a food court par excellence. The mixture of stands come to life on a sunny day with people eating on ajoining plastic tables, Nigerian, Jamaican and Thai are all represented. The star of the show though is Kaieteur Kitchen serving Guyanese food.

Guyana, a former British colony on the South American mainland is generally considered part of the Caribbean and shares a lot in common culturally with the English speaking islands. Like nearby Trinidad and Tobago there is a strong East Indian influence on the cuisine with over 40% of the country's population descendants of indentured labourers from the subcontinent. Indian breads such as rotis and curries feature heavily alongside dishes with African, European and more so than elsewhere in the West Indies, Amerindian roots.

Passing Kaieteur early one Saturday lunchtime with my stomach as empty as a Greek tax return, the sight of three ample women buzzing around a multitude of pots, frying, stirring and smiling was too inviting. There was no menu so I asked to try the most Guyanese dish... 'pepperpot!' was the unanimous response. Each West Indian island seems to have a dish they call pepperpot, I've already tried Antigua's earlier in my blog, but the Guyanese pepperpot is unique. Theirs is a brooding, dark, hp sauce like morass of all manner of pig and cow parts which tastes incredible.

The secret to pepperpot I was told is 'cassareep' an Amerindian ingredient which is a natural preservative made from cassava juice. The juice is boiled up with brown sugar, cinnamon and cloves to create a thick dark liquid which gives pepperpot its unique flavour and intense colour. In the days before refrigeration, cassareep was a vital addition to stews preserving them almost indefinitely, as long as the pepperpot was boiled well each day it would be safe to eat. Guyanese families tell tales of the same pepperpots lasting for years, with housewives taking and adding ingredients to a stew with an age old base, there's even tales of people inheriting pepperpots.

I was assured my pepperpot was just a couple of weeks old, the constant stewing and concentrating of flavours had broken it down into a thick, molasses like sauce of caramelised meat and spices, a beautiful mix up of oxtail, pigs trotter and chunks of stewing beef and pork. It was served with 'Cook up Rice', a favourite way of using up leftovers in Guyana apparently, which had a generous amount of pork and chicken. A fiery homemade hot sauce of scotch bonnet and mustard was the perfect condiment.

Whilst I ate, the dapper chap in the cap (pictured above) patted me on the back and said, 'It's food that makes you feel good isn't it?' it certainly is and pretty good value at £6.50 for my meal. Lets hope there's a place for Kaieteur Kitchen next to Wagamama's Elephant and Castle in a few year's time.

Bolivia: Parrilladas del Sur

The Elephant Castle/Walworth area seems to be the centre of London's Latino community. A fairly recent influx of immigration from Andean countries, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia in particular has seen the arrival of Latin American grocers, butchers, restaurants and even nightclubs such as the 'Ministry of Salsa'. Each August its streets and Burgess Park play host to the 'Carnaval del Pueblo' Europe's largest Latin American festival.

Stretches of the famously bleak Old Kent road comes to life on the weekend with Latin bars blaring out Cumbia, Salsa and Reggaeton. There are a few really interesting looking places to eat, an Ecuadorian seafood restaurant "Costa Azul' has caught my eye before but recently I managed to drag a few friends to Parrilladas del Sur a Bolivian grill.

I say Bolivian, the restaurant is actually owned and run by Ecuadorians but caters for the area's sizeable Bolivian population with specialities such as salteñas (a type of spicy meat filled empanada or pasty) and anticuchos de corazón ( bite sized beef heart kebabs). As it happens the Friday we went none of these were on the menu but we were treated to the house speciality, a colossal mixed grill (parrillada mixta).

The grill for two included typically Latin American cheap but delicious cuts of beef which aren't readily available or popular in the UK; Flank steak, slightly tough but intensely beefy and juicy, and short ribs, ribs cut across the bone from the chuck, once again they require some gnawing but the meat is rich and flavoursome. Both were cooked well done as seems to be the norm in most Latin American cuisine but were beautifully sealed with a salty, charred exterior.

As well as the steak there was some excellent chorizo (a combination of beef and pork flavoured with coriander and cumin), two huge pork chops, slightly dry but tasty nonetheless and two fine BBQ'd chicken legs made with a secret marinade. Smokey and spicy it tasted like they'd used achiote and a liberal amount of garlic and fresh chili. The grill was accompanied by a fiery chili sauce, baked potatoes, salad and a mound of rice.

In terms of drink the restaurant is plastered with adverts for Bolivian beer "Pacena" sadly supplies were low and we joined the regulars in a can of Fosters. We did get to try an Ecuadorean winter warmer though made from guayusa (a stimulant leaf high in caffeine made into tea), passion fruit juice and sugar cane liquor which had everyone in good spirits.

The place, as with many others I've visited for this blog, feels like you're on holiday it's just such a contrast to the London outside. The site it's on used to be an antique fireplace yard and they've transformed it into a home from home for Bolivians/Ecuadoreans including football shirts on the bare brick walls, posters of Latin popstars, plastic tables and an outhouse toilet that's on the fritz.

The staff were incredibly friendly, although slightly bemused when we came in they managed to dig out the only two menus in English. I'd like to go back when they've got more of the Bolivian specials which seems to be a Saturday night. There's so much to explore in terms of London's South American food, I've already eaten in a few good Colombian places, El Santafereño in Brixton Market is particularly good as is the nearby butchers Las Americas for both Colombian and Brazilian cuts.

My next quest has to be to seek out some illicit Cuy, one of the Andes' most famous delicacies, guinea pig.

Parrilladas del Sur,

186 Old Kent Road,

SE1 5TY,

0207 701 2367

Tacos de Cachete

A couple of weeks ago I attended a fascinating discussion of Mexican food at the British Museum, part of a series of events linked to the current Moctezuma exhibition. Amongst the panel chaired by Fay Maschler was travel writer Fiona Dunlop, renowned Mexican chef and restaurateur Enrique Olivera, Wahaca's Tommi Miers and a new hero of mine, one of the world's greatest authorities on Mexican cooking Diana Kennedy.

I'm a bit of a twat when it comes to Mexican food, having spent a semester of my Spanish degree as an exchange student in Puebla. Whilst fellow linguists tucked into Currywurst in Leipzig I was decimating my student loan and occasionally my bowels, eating and drinking my way across southern Mexico like a marauding filibuster. London's current burrito craze really pisses me off, and shamefully I've found myself berating the staff at Daddy Donkey for their prices and lack of corn tortillas.

Anyway, despite my professed knowledge the talk was my first encounter with a woman who has spent 45 years researching and documenting Mexico's regional cooking. She's written several books, the most famous of which 'The Cuisines of Mexico' is a bible for all Mexicophiles. So great is her contribution to Mexican gastronomy that she was awarded The Order of the Aztec Eagle, the highest honour afforded to foreigners in Mexico.

Listening to her speak was a privilege, as she rolled out the Nahuatl names of rare ingredients. Fielding questions from the audience she instantly reminded one Mexican lady of the name of a particular salt found on the shores of Mexico's highland lakes called Tequesquite that her Grandma used to use to season beans. When someone got her started on Tamales she offered to continue the conversation after the talk for a few hours more.

What came across was a true devotion to the culture of her adopted country and a strong dedication to ensuring the survival of one of the world's richest culinary traditions in the face of corrupting global influences (dietary habits from above the border and genetically modified maize were amongst those highlighted). The enthusiasm of all those participating was moving, with Enrique Olivera speaking about current trends in Mexican alta cocina and Tommi Miers explaining her brand of Mexican food with a British accent.

By the end of the discussion when the panellists had shared their most memorable Mexican eating experiences and generous samples of Wahaca's new menu had been consumed, I was reaching for my molcajete, the lava rock mortar which makes a salsa supreme.

Sunday lunch was an adaptation of a taco classic 'Barbacoa de Cabeza' slowly cooked cow's head. On offer at £2.60 a kilo in Waitrose and for ease, I just used ox cheeks 'cachete'. There are various variations of barbacoa - slow roasting, steaming or braising and with various meats (mutton 'borrego' is my favourite). Again this is the easiest one, braising on a hob. If you were a purist you'd do it wrapped in maguey (agave) leaves and buried with hot rocks...one for the summer.

As well as rich tender meat you get an incredible beef stock from simmering the cheeks for so long, which in Mexico is served as consomé before the tacos.

I made a salsa verde to go with it with tomatillos (called tomates verdes in Mexico). Despite the name they're unrelated to tomatoes and are a relation of the cape gooseberry. It's pretty hard to get fresh ones over here, though Cool Chile have them occasionally, so I used tinned.

Tacos de Cachete (serves 5)

Carne
2kg Ox cheeks
2 Onions (halved)
8 Cloves of garlic
1 Bay leaf
10 peppercorns
salt to taste

Salsa Verde
500g tinned tomatillos
2 jalapeño chilis or serranos if you can get them (deseeded)
1/2 onion
2 cloves garlic
salt to taste

To Serve
30 Corn tortillas
Finely chopped onion, coriander and slices of lime

1. Place the ox cheeks, the onions, the garlic, the bayleaf and the seasoning in a large cooking pot. Cover with water and bring to the boil. Reduce heat and simmer gently for 3 hours.
2. When the meat is tender and falling apart remove from the broth and shred. According to taste it can be eaten as it is or fried to give a crispy exterior. I fried mine.
3. To prepare your salsa verde, on a skillet roast the chile and onion until blistered and tomatillos until blistered and bubbling. Blend with the garlic and salt in a molcajete (if you've got one) or a blender, adding water if necessary to achieve a thick yet pourable consistency. Alternatively you can make the salsa (cruda raw) without charring the ingredients.
4. Serve shredded meat with corn tortillas heated on the skillet (wrap in foil or a clean tea towel to keep warm) bowl of salsa verde, chopped onion, coriander and limes.
   

In terms of ingredients I'd recommend Casa Mexico, Azteca (website only in Spanish) and Cool Chile.

Bangladesh: Gram Bangla

Of all the waves of immigration, Bangladeshis have arguably made one of the biggest impacts on the way we eat in Britain today. There's an estimated 9500 'Indian' restaurants in the UK, more than 65% of which are thought to be Bangladeshi owned. Curry has taken pride of place alongside fish and chips and roast beef as a national dish, even the BNP love it.

Since their arrival in the 50s, Bangladeshis have been the driving force behind an industry and and an institution that's now reckoned to be worth approximately £3.3bn a year. No high street would be complete without its 'Passage to India' or 'Jolly Rajah'. What young Englishman has not been forged by the morning fire of a vindaloo or phaal? Bangladeshis picked up where kedgeree and mulligatawny left off and introduced us to the more puissant flavours of the subcontinent.

Despite the large number of Bangladeshi owned restaurants, finding one where the food is close to 'home cooking' is difficult. There has been a real homogenisation among Britain's curry houses, whether billed as Bengali, Punjabi or Nepalese the menu in restaurants outside of predominantly Asian areas all carry the same predictable favourites, enjoyable yet largely inauthentic interpretations of dishes from the length and breadth of the subcontinent, Dopiaza (Hyderbad), Vindaloo (Goa), Rogan Josh (Kashmir) for instance. Admittedly this is starting to change a bit with more restaurateurs willing to showcase more of their native regional cooking, but you're still unlikely to find mutton brain curry.

Brick Lane was the obvious choice for this meal as the centre of London's Bangladeshi community (33.5% of the population of Tower Hamlets is Bangladeshi). Initially I was a bit snooty about the idea given my previous experiences of bartering for free pints and popadoms there and was hoping to find some unknown gem further east.

The obligatory call to the embassy for recommendations was ill received, the first person couldn't understand me, neither could the second, and the third chap seemed thoroughly vexed 'This is not our job!' Admittedly he might have had some more pressing issues on his hands, flood relief etc. but if ever I find myself working as a diplomat in Dhaka I will make it my mission to know the whereabouts of every fish and chip shop, ale tavern and chop house in the city.

The tip off eventually came from a Bangladeshi grocer's near work, in exchange for buying a jar of the formidable Mr Naga. So Brick Lane it was and Gram Bangla where the shopkeeper liked to eat once a week. Sitting down the Whitechapel end of Brick Lane, Gram Bangla is an unassuming Café which on a Saturday evening was packed with young Bangladeshi men.

Having run the gauntlet of Brick Lane's curry pushermen we were greeted with bemusement, three louts who'd accidentally stumbled into the only place that didn't serve Kingfisher, madras and peshwari naan. There are no menus but there was a fine array of curries under the chiller cabinet which they patiently explained to us. The food is specifically Sylheti, from the north eastern Sylhet region of Bangladesh where the majority of British Bangladeshis hail from. Fish is the order of the day and there's a handy poster with illustrations and the names of the myriad of Bangla seafood.

A lot of the punters seemed to be going for the thali option with meat or fish curry, a vegetable curry, daal, pickles and a sweet fritter of some sort. We went for a selection of dishes to share between the three of us, a kingfish curry with a wide flat bean pod of some sort, a lamb biryani, a potato curry with aubergine and dudhi gourd, a fish chutney, a beef curry, a dish of dried fish with drumstick and a mound of rice. According to my Bangla grocer the choice varies a lot, other weeks there might also be brain, fish roe curry or fish kofta.

Ordering the dried fish (shutki) and drumstick raised a few eyebrows, 'I rate your choice' said one of the lads on the table next to us 'try that one first'. His mates waited with bated breath for someone to take the first bite. Shutki smells like a putrid rockpool, near a sewage pipe, drying slowly on a hot afternoon. It's a challenging taste, sweet and slightly rotten with an intense savouriness, it took a few mouthfuls to get accustomed to but was delicious combined with the freshness of the drumstick (an asian vegetable similar in taste to green beans), hot fruity chili and equally pungent dried shrimp.

The fish chutney was a winner, made with dried fish again but a variety which wasn't as 'high' as the shutki with drumstick. It had been shredded and fried with both dry and fresh chilis, onions and garlic. The kingfish curry was meaty and rich, the wide flat bean which I didn't get the name of an interesting addition. The beef curry, a Bangladeshi speciality and something you rarely see even in muslim run restaurants was slighly dissappointing in it's bonyness. I'm a fan of curry with meat on the bone and the gravy was delicious, but 50% of the dish was bones without any meat on them at all and no marrow to be had.

The lamb biriani was very good, tender marinated meat which had been fried first and sealed with a crisp exterior, and fragrant 'well defined' grains of rice. The potato curry was comforting and helped soak up the heat of the other dishes. Sylhetis are renowned for their love of chilis, the naga in particular, and the food which I found sufficiently piquant was accompanied with extra chilis (both green and dried) to add to taste.

As well as being very spicy the food was pretty salty, especially the dishes with dried fish (suprising I know). I'd guess this is down to Bangladeshi tastes where a mound of rice forms the bulk of the meal and a little curry is made to go a long way. Gram Bangla which means Bangla Village certainly markets itself at Bangladeshi expats with an ad that drifts back to the paddy fields.

To finish we were offered paan (areca nut wrapped in betel leaf). An after meal tradition chewed to cleanse the palate and freshen the breath. It's also supposed to be a mild stimulant with a similar effect to caffeine. You wrap the nut in the leaf with assorted fillings, there was tobacco, sugar coated fennel seeds and caustic lime (for a burning sensation).

As a first timer I was warned off the lime. 'It will hurt you' were the sobering words of the paan keeper. Every chewer must start off with a brush of lime eventually but I feared his wrath so sent for the fennel. The leaf itself didn't taste of much, it was slightly peppery, the nut had an aniseedy/menthol flavour which relieved me of the lingering taste of 'Shutki'. Didn't feel much effect but was left with a mouthfull of woody pulp whilst I found a bin down Brick Lane. Apparently the walkways in South Asia are stained with red betel nut spittle, it's recently been banned in Dubai.

The cost of the meal was about £10 a head which was pretty good value. I was after 'authentic' Bangladeshi food and I think we certainly got a flavour of Sylheti home cooking which was far removed from my previous experiences on Brick Lane. Apparently there's a few other places similar to Gram Bangla in the area, part of recent attempts by restaurateurs to appeal to young Bangladeshi workers and students in London. I'm keen to get my face in some 'shutki' again so will definitely be back to follow my nose.

Gram Bangla, 68 Brick Lane London E1 6RL

Tel: 020 7377 6116