"Wading neck deep in a swamp, your revolver is neither use nor ornament until you have had time to clean it" Mary H. Kingsley (1897)

restaurants

Deliverance

A take-away service.

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Pictures taken in Fort Cochin.


Taking A Light Breakfast

In my case:
masala dosa, with coconut chutney, tomato chutney and vegetable sambar.

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Pictures taken in Aquarius Restaurant, Fort Road, Kannur


The Forgotten Colours Of Eating

Returning to Cochin, I hoped to find the restaurant we used on our outbound journey.
Although its wash-rooms had been busy with mosquitoes – a hazard that afflicts lady diners more than men  – my guests particularly enjoyed the food.

It was a forlorn hope:
None of us had any idea of its name and we now had a different driver.

As the hours passed and we all became increasingly hungry,
I realised just how impractical the idea was.
With solemn reference to “stepping into the same river twice” and embracing new experiences, I asked Solly, our driver, to stop at the first decent-looking eatery.

Just a few moments later, a sign advertising good food appeared. Solly slowed the car to cross the road and enter a car-park.

 It was, of course, the same restaurant we had so happily patronised four days previously.
And the food?
Just as good as before.
Though, for the life of me, I still cannot remember its name..
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Pictures taken in a restaurant somewhere on the road from Cochin to Trivandrum, Kerala.


Seeking Consolation

We were booked to stay in Pelling for two nights:
An area renowned for its staggering views of the high Himalayan peaks. 

Before leaving Kerala, I had seen this picture on the hotel’s website:

Unfortunately, our arrival coincided with poor weather.

Awakening the next morning, I could hear no rain. I drew back the curtains with great expectations.
And was greeted by this:

Alternating dense mists and heavy rain persisted for the duration of our stay.

The hotel was not set up for wi-fi broadband and, in this high mountainous terrain, my mobile could find no signal.
No views, no email, no sms.
We sought the consolations of the flesh:


Sikkim cuisine was sampled,
And I seem to remember we took a couple of Hits
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Give A Little Whistle

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We had visited our final temple on this journey:
It was time for our last lunch on the road.

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Our restaurant, like many on the main street, employed a man to stand outside the premises,
armed with a whistle.

His role was to attract passing motorists, and guide them into parking places. There was no car-park as such, no marked spaces, or even smooth flat surfaces on which to bring your vehicle,
Just this road-side guide and his notional parking-lots. 

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With an authority granted by his whistle, the man blew vigorously and almost continuously.
The sound emitted was piercingly sharp.
Beyond discomfort, it bordered onto pain.

But he blew as if his life depended on it,
And perhaps it did…
Enthusiastic whistling is often what the restaurant owner needs to hear, if a “car-park attendant” wishes to keep his job, the free meals and meagre salary.

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Elegant Eating

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My son and his wife are still with me.

The evening climate is warm and welcoming.

Our garden supper, in an elegant restaurant, was the excellent end to a gentle day.


I opted for a rich, cheese and tomato, home-made ravioli.

“The children” both settled on “fisherman’s dream”, a medley of sea-food, served on basmati rice, with a coconut-based, curry sauce.

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Their chosen dessert: miniature chocolate samosas, accompanied by fresh mango coulis.

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Dawn Traders

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Shops and road-side cafés in India are open for long hours.

By half past six in the morning – as dawn breaks – they are already busy.

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By seven o’clock,

Business is solar-powered.

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Café Lite

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Sunday morning called for another breakfast at the Sri Krishna Café,

A sensual feast of taste, smell and colour.

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With just un soupçon of people watching, on the side.

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