There’s a lovely little Singaporean restaurant in North West London that my family have been going to for years. My grandpa used to love it (he spent his war years in that part of the world) and always amused the waitresses with his vast vocabulary of Indonesian and Malay swear words. Or at least they used to laugh politely. He would order the nasi goreng without fail each time – it was such a big portion he could never finish it, so (being the Jewish mother he always claimed to be) he always told us we hadn’t eaten enough and made us help him out. I don’t think I’ve ever left that restaurant feeling anything left than stuffed. Continue reading →
When Mr H and I set off on a magical tour of India two years ago, we had no idea how much of an assault on the senses (in a good way!) it would be. Everywhere we went we were wowed by the noise, the colours and the smells, but above all, the tastes.