It's not that I didn't try to post yesterday, it's just that the dratted connection wouldn't let me.
Anyway, here it is (belatedly).
On Saturday, we went over to Bradford to meet with a good friend, and to take Ellie for her first curry out. Bradford has a large ethnic minority population, and consequently is known for some very very good curry houses. And Paul and I both come from cultures of eating curry in Bradford, so it was the obvious place to go.
We went to Ambala (on Great Houghton Road, a bit nearer town than Mumtaz - for those of you who may know the area). It's a 'modern' curry house - all laminate flooring, coloured gel filled vases of single stems, square plates etc. Lovely surroundings, lovely food, and given we went late lunchtime when it was very very quiet excellent service (attentive yet not standing over you - a very hard balance to strike!). Ellie loved it - well, except for the lime pickle which I failed to intercept her trying.
But it was a far cry from the 'traditional spit and sawdust' places in Bradform where I learnt to eat curry whilst a student. Yes, I was a student in York but the cheapness of curry in Bradford made it affordable, particularly if you could persuade someone else to drive and that wasn't usually hard...!
Paul had had a much earlier introduction, and with an even longer commute. He had been taken to Bradford for curries by his parents whilst a small child from Lincoln! I realised what a family tradition I was joining into when the first time I met Paul's parents they collected us from York and took us over to Bradford for a pint and a curry. And if that wasn't enough of a clue, the waiter greeted Paul and his parents by name and commented it had been a while since he had last seen him!
I realise this post will mean little to most, but it was a lovely meal, and all the more so for being a continuation of a family tradition, and the start of one of our own.