Curry News

[Alexander L 80]

Curry news for today:

 

Hallucinating after eating world’s hottest curry

 

 

Congratulations to Dr Ian Rothwell, 55, who is the first person to have finished ‘The Widower’, a chicken curry so strong that the chef who prepares it uses goggles and a face mask for protection.

 

The £20 curry, prepared at the Bindi restaurant in Grantham, Lincolnshire uses 20 ultra-hot Naga Infinity Chillies, and measures six million units on the Scoville Scale – 10,000 times hotter than Tabasco sauce.

 

The UK’s Indian 9000-strong restaurant sector, which is worth around £3.6 billion annually, continues to evolve. For many years the mild and creamy chicken tikka masala was the nation’s favourite dish (the late Robin Cook viewed it as a “perfect illustration of the way Britain absorbs and adapts external influences”, but it has now been overtaken by the spicier chicken jalfrezi.

 

Nevertheless, irrespective of an increase in preference for hotter dishes, especially among white British consumers, a long-standing division between males, who prefer dishes with more chilli, and females, who like milder fare operates in some ways like a geological fault line. Interestingly, the gender rule seems to operate independently of social class.

 

That symbolic division is borne out by the fact that of the 300 people who have tried to conquer The Widower in the two years it has been available, only around 10 were female. It was his daughter who first alerted the consultant radiologist, a fan of fiery curries since his days as a student in Leeds and Manchester, about the challenge and encouraged him to give it a go.

 

The Sun, The Mirror and the Daily Mail all reported that Dr Rothwell’s wife found him ‘hallucinating’ on Grantham High Street half way through the challenge. It seems from his own account, however, that although he was sweating and experiencing an endorphin rush, he was merely considering whether it was in his best interests to return to the restaurant to complete his task. He decided it was.

 

It took another half hour to finish the dish. Although Dr Rothwell, who had to sign a disclaimer before eating the curry, was offered a glass of milk by the restaurant’s owner to mitigate some of the effects of the chillies, he preferred to drink a large bottle of Cobra beer and eat a small amount of rice – a good choice since drinking water serves only to amplify the sensation of heat. Afterwards, Dr Rothwell said that eating The Widower had been a harder task than the seven-day climb of Mount Kilimanjaro he had completed last year.

 

The chef-proprietor of Bindi, British Bangladeshi Muhammed Karim, was full of praise for Dr Rothwell’s efforts, especially as most people give up eating The Widower after a few mouthfuls. “We’ve had people sweating, crying, shaking and vomiting,” said Mr Karim. “We even had to ring an ambulance once. Mr Rothwell is a legend as far as I’m concerned.”

 

We can all agree on that.

 

 

[kokodoko 67]

I wonder what he was seeing when he was hallucinating.??

 

Dancing jalapenos?

 

Only Indians can make a decent curry.

[Chriselle 158]

I like hot ....but not that hot. Speaking of which, I just picked these this morning. Amazing for mid November and a testament to how hot it was this year. I should get about one more pick like this in about another week or so before finally done for the year. Habaneros by the way.... not ghost peppers or Trinidad Scorpion peppers but still ....muy caliente..!!....and make the top ten hottest pepper list. Very flavourful, too.

 

[Metabo Oyaji 71]

[Tubby Beaver 209]

I like my curries to have a kick, but not be all fire......takes away the taste of the curry

[kokodoko 67]

Reggie Miller analyzes Warriors, says Steph Curry is ‘just scratching the surface of his ceiling’

 

 

TNT NBA analyst Reggie Miller will probably be a general manager one day, so he’ll get to construct his own team, but you get the idea that the Hall of Fame guard really likes the model the Warriors used to build their roster.

Ahead of calling the Thursday’s game between the Warriors and Thunder, Miller offered a glowing review of the Warriors’ starting lineup during a phone interview.

 

Stephen Curry: “I think he’s just scratching the surface of his ceiling right now. What really gets overlooked when you look at Steph’s game is his play-making and assist ability. Because he shoots the basketball so well, from so deep and with such proficiency, it gets lost that he’s a true point guard. His play-making ability is just as good as (Rajon) Rondo or Chris Paul, in terms of setting up his teammates, but because he shoots the ball so well, it diminishes how people view his assist game. The more success the Warriors have and the further they go into the playoffs throughout the years, Steph is going to realize the importance of ball possession and how much turnovers can hurt his team. That’ll be the evolution of his game.”

[seemore 66]

Yeah I don't think there would have been much taste in the end

[Alexander L 80]

I like hot ....but not that hot. Speaking of which, I just picked these this morning. Amazing for mid November and a testament to how hot it was this year. I should get about one more pick like this in about another week or so before finally done for the year. Habaneros by the way.... not ghost peppers or Trinidad Scorpion peppers but still ....muy caliente..!!....and make the top ten hottest pepper list. Very flavourful, too.

 

That looks absolutely scrummy.

 

Pickle some and give a nice surprise to your katsu kare guests.

[Alexander L 80]

There is another claim to fame for the world's hottest curry:

 

 

Curry Hell – Rupali’s Indian Restaurant, Newcastle, UK

 

 

So there’s this Indian restaurant in Newcastle Upon Tyne that claims to serve up the world’s hottest curry. I would normally scoff at such a claim, but Gordon Ramsay himself has endorsed the place, and looking at the state of his wrinkled old scrotum face, I’d imagine that the man has had his fair share of spicy meals. “The hottest curry I’ve ever tasted”. Sounds like you’re either an amateur, Gordon, or we actually have something special here. What’s More, Rupali’s offers the dish for free for whomever finishes it (this statement is closely followed on the menu by a “friendly health warning” which any real man should ignore – although the additional assurance that the dish contained no traces of nuts certainly was comforting) . Those who know me will know that I am a sucker for idiotic challenges, nor do I ever turn down a free meal, so this no-brainer was clearly mine for the taking when some friends and I found ourselves in the English far north last weekend.

Now, I feel that I ought to point out that I do not in any way endorse the concept of substituting spiciness for taste. Your curry can be hot, but if it doesn’t compliment this with a fair flavour, then you are essentially the culinary equivalent of all trash and no substance (ie: John Terry). This is merely a technicality with regards to this narrative. But I feel it’s important to distance myself from the potential perception that I tried this curry in the hope that I thought it would taste good.

 

With these formalities taken care of, time to move on to the main course. Upon entering the premises, we immediately took note of the abnormal proportion of stag do’s present among the customers. There were the usual kilt-sporting highlander wannabes, a lazy (but effective) fake afro/moustache combo crew, and of course, a spattering of civilian-dressed douchebags escorting their haplessly cross-dressed groom-to-be around town. It was in this refined and classy environment that we were escorted to our table, and the ordering didn’t take long. “One Curry Hell, waiter, and I hope it comes with naans. I don’t want to be hungry once I’m done”. The waiter looked at me with a mix of contempt and malice; “ooh and one more thing, garcon. I hope you honour your promise of a free meal once I lick my plate clean!”. This was enough for our friend Ramesh. In a bizarre mix of Indian and Geordie dialect, he muttered “you won’t be finishing it mate, hope you brought cash”. Clearly, the gauntlet had been laid, and the pre dinner Cobra lagers had further empowered me with the conviction of a man possessed.

 

Within minutes the evil brew made its entrance, and I suddenly found myself face to face with the beast. Although rather unassuming at first sight, the discerning observer would soon note that the sauce, sporting a dark red hue, was in fact holding within its rich texture hundreds of chilli seeds. An encouraging sign, I thought. Maybe Mr Ramsey was onto something.

 

In unison, my companions and I all spooned out a piece of chicken from our respective cauldrons, and downed the first portion with cavalier abandon. For three of the four members present, that would be the last Curry Hell to touch their lips for the night.

 

The first sensation which I can recall, as I masticated on the dead animal which had been unfortunate enough to end up in this odious swamp of a meal, was a burning sensation perhaps akin to trying to suck the fire out of a flame thrower. During the minute of agonising silence which followed around the table, I came to realise that sweat not only poured from my brow and tears from my eyes, but that rivers of bodily fluid suddenly manifested themselves out from my ears and nostrils. This was quickly forgotten however, when I noticed that I was openly dribbling from my mouth, but didn’t mind because of the cooling effect my saliva had on my blistered lips.

 

Then as the substance made its way down my esophagus, the real agony began. The hellfire dancing within my jaws took a backseat to a sensation which is difficult to explain… Physically, the best way to describe it was like getting fisted by Edward Scissorhands. Before long, the walls of my stomach were wasting away, confronted by the acidic goo which had just blitzkrieged its once peaceful vales. Through my head, Ramsay’s maniacal laugh rang mercilessly.

 

Nevertheless, still determined to claim my free meal, I took on another few bites. Naively, I thought that engorging multiple morsels in quick succession, with minimal chewing, would stunt the fire’s overall impact. Within minutes, the obvious gravity of my error was eclipsed only by the laughter which was now emanating from around us, as the other patrons took pleasure in our now very public pain. After four mouthfuls, self preservation finally got the better of me, and the towel was thrown in.

 

With my senses beginning to fade, one of my companions presented a final spoonful of the steaming brew, throwing in a £20 note sweetener if I were to re-enter the fray. I’ll do pretty much anything for a tenner, so my rising to the challenge was more instinctive than brave… This was the final, ill-advised and inevitable step towards oblivion. As I stumbled up from my chair, the crowds around me screaming for blood, I stumbled as the dying gladiator towards the safety of the gateway, which in this case was the dimly lit and questionably hygienic bathroom stalls. After a half hour within the cubicle walls, pressing my weight against the thin boarded walls, I knew that I had to get out.

 

As I stumbled into the street, disoriented and alone, my consciousness departed to a better place. Recollections of the next few hours are hazy, but dried up evidence found on my clothes would indicate bile exiting my mouth, and of course more fiery agony. I was beaten. Curry Hell had won.

 

[Alexander L 80]

This is a Sichuan dish. Stir fried Sichuan peppers with what ever meat you like. It is gruesomely hot. Your lips vibrate at something like 50 Hz, much akin to sucking electricity from the mains.

 

[Metabo Oyaji 71]

Bring it.

[Alexander L 80]

This one was so hot, the chilies jumped off the plate

 

[Alexander L 80]

This is Sichuan chili shabu shabu soup base. A bit crowded in there.

 

 

to be had with Mongolian lamb slices

 

[Slippery Jim 65]

So, when do we get to the really spicy stuff?

[Metabo Oyaji 71]

That lamb shabu shabu does look good.

[seemore 66]

There is another claim to fame for the world's hottest curry:

 

 

Curry Hell – Rupali’s Indian Restaurant, Newcastle, UK

 

 

So there’s this Indian restaurant in Newcastle Upon Tyne that claims to serve up the world’s hottest curry. I would normally scoff at such a claim, but Gordon Ramsay himself has endorsed the place, and looking at the state of his wrinkled old scrotum face, I’d imagine that the man has had his fair share of spicy meals. “The hottest curry I’ve ever tasted”. Sounds like you’re either an amateur, Gordon, or we actually have something special here. What’s More, Rupali’s offers the dish for free for whomever finishes it (this statement is closely followed on the menu by a “friendly health warning” which any real man should ignore – although the additional assurance that the dish contained no traces of nuts certainly was comforting) . Those who know me will know that I am a sucker for idiotic challenges, nor do I ever turn down a free meal, so this no-brainer was clearly mine for the taking when some friends and I found ourselves in the English far north last weekend.

Now, I feel that I ought to point out that I do not in any way endorse the concept of substituting spiciness for taste. Your curry can be hot, but if it doesn’t compliment this with a fair flavour, then you are essentially the culinary equivalent of all trash and no substance (ie: John Terry). This is merely a technicality with regards to this narrative. But I feel it’s important to distance myself from the potential perception that I tried this curry in the hope that I thought it would taste good.

 

With these formalities taken care of, time to move on to the main course. Upon entering the premises, we immediately took note of the abnormal proportion of stag do’s present among the customers. There were the usual kilt-sporting highlander wannabes, a lazy (but effective) fake afro/moustache combo crew, and of course, a spattering of civilian-dressed douchebags escorting their haplessly cross-dressed groom-to-be around town. It was in this refined and classy environment that we were escorted to our table, and the ordering didn’t take long. “One Curry Hell, waiter, and I hope it comes with naans. I don’t want to be hungry once I’m done”. The waiter looked at me with a mix of contempt and malice; “ooh and one more thing, garcon. I hope you honour your promise of a free meal once I lick my plate clean!”. This was enough for our friend Ramesh. In a bizarre mix of Indian and Geordie dialect, he muttered “you won’t be finishing it mate, hope you brought cash”. Clearly, the gauntlet had been laid, and the pre dinner Cobra lagers had further empowered me with the conviction of a man possessed.

 

Within minutes the evil brew made its entrance, and I suddenly found myself face to face with the beast. Although rather unassuming at first sight, the discerning observer would soon note that the sauce, sporting a dark red hue, was in fact holding within its rich texture hundreds of chilli seeds. An encouraging sign, I thought. Maybe Mr Ramsey was onto something.

 

In unison, my companions and I all spooned out a piece of chicken from our respective cauldrons, and downed the first portion with cavalier abandon. For three of the four members present, that would be the last Curry Hell to touch their lips for the night.

 

The first sensation which I can recall, as I masticated on the dead animal which had been unfortunate enough to end up in this odious swamp of a meal, was a burning sensation perhaps akin to trying to suck the fire out of a flame thrower. During the minute of agonising silence which followed around the table, I came to realise that sweat not only poured from my brow and tears from my eyes, but that rivers of bodily fluid suddenly manifested themselves out from my ears and nostrils. This was quickly forgotten however, when I noticed that I was openly dribbling from my mouth, but didn’t mind because of the cooling effect my saliva had on my blistered lips.

 

Then as the substance made its way down my esophagus, the real agony began. The hellfire dancing within my jaws took a backseat to a sensation which is difficult to explain… Physically, the best way to describe it was like getting fisted by Edward Scissorhands. Before long, the walls of my stomach were wasting away, confronted by the acidic goo which had just blitzkrieged its once peaceful vales. Through my head, Ramsay’s maniacal laugh rang mercilessly.

 

Nevertheless, still determined to claim my free meal, I took on another few bites. Naively, I thought that engorging multiple morsels in quick succession, with minimal chewing, would stunt the fire’s overall impact. Within minutes, the obvious gravity of my error was eclipsed only by the laughter which was now emanating from around us, as the other patrons took pleasure in our now very public pain. After four mouthfuls, self preservation finally got the better of me, and the towel was thrown in.

 

With my senses beginning to fade, one of my companions presented a final spoonful of the steaming brew, throwing in a £20 note sweetener if I were to re-enter the fray. I’ll do pretty much anything for a tenner, so my rising to the challenge was more instinctive than brave… This was the final, ill-advised and inevitable step towards oblivion. As I stumbled up from my chair, the crowds around me screaming for blood, I stumbled as the dying gladiator towards the safety of the gateway, which in this case was the dimly lit and questionably hygienic bathroom stalls. After a half hour within the cubicle walls, pressing my weight against the thin boarded walls, I knew that I had to get out.

 

As I stumbled into the street, disoriented and alone, my consciousness departed to a better place. Recollections of the next few hours are hazy, but dried up evidence found on my clothes would indicate bile exiting my mouth, and of course more fiery agony. I was beaten. Curry Hell had won.

 

[pie-eater 207]

I suppose I'd like to give it a try, just for the experience.

 

I like hot but too hot as has been said just gets rid of any taste and enjoyment.

 

Makes you look well 'ard though I suppose.

[Alexander L 80]

I can take comfortably a lamb vindaloo. Anything hotter would be an adventure.

 

[Alexander L 80]

But the Sichuan ones are a different sensation. They don't go for the throat, they go for the lips and mouth.

[Metabo Oyaji 71]

But the Sichuan ones are a different sensation. They don't go for the throat, they go for the lips and mouth.

 

Is that the peppers themselves, or something else in there? Kind of a clove-like additive, perhaps?

Have to confess I'm not a big fan of that, if so.

 

I actually prefer staright hot-pepper hotness myself. Used to be more of a purist about preferring flavor over hotness, but lately seem to appreciate any kind of stimulation at all, even at the expense of flavor. Hotness is its own kind of flavor, come down to it.

 

Though there is an extra dimension in Thai and Ethiopian dishes that is sublime.

[Tubby Beaver 209]

thats age getting onto you!!

 

any sensation is a good sensation!!

[rach 1]

Ethiopian? Do they like it hot?

[Chriselle 158]

Ya....I don't know why but the Asian and Thai peppers initially have a good kick but dissipate fast whereas the bell shaped heathen varieties are much more persistent. Also, I'm not a fan of the Asian peppers because they don't lend that much flavour compared to a red savina (habanero), serrano or jalapeno. The scorpion or Jolokia 2 million scoville peppers are nothing more than novelty items. That said...I would still like to grow some...

[Chriselle 158]

But the Sichuan ones are a different sensation. They don't go for the throat, they go for the lips and mouth.

 

Is that the peppers themselves, or something else in there? Kind of a clove-like additive, perhaps?

Have to confess I'm not a big fan of that, if so.

 

I actually prefer staright hot-pepper hotness myself. Used to be more of a purist about preferring flavor over hotness, but lately seem to appreciate any kind of stimulation at all, even at the expense of flavor. Hotness is its own kind of flavor, come down to it.

 

Though there is an extra dimension in Thai and Ethiopian dishes that is sublime.

 

Metabo...PM your mail address and I'll put some of the Habs in a box for you...

[Tubby Beaver 209]

Soup curry mucho mucho oishiiiiiiiiii