|Ranking||Member||Current Score||Penalties||Amirah’s Kitchen, Wandsworth|
A New Year and new beginnings, at least for the seven intrepid members who converged in Wandsworth Town last Thursday to mark the opening of the 2014 season. Shrugging off the mid-winter chill and meek excuses (work commitments and a poor cover-up for staying in with the WAG…shame on you Curry Ace of yesteryear), the club descended upon The Alma pub with parched throats and increasingly grumbling bellies.
Pints of Youngs all round, apart from the obligatory lager for member Dyson, of course, in a welcoming drinking establishment indeed. Perhaps a little busier than the usual pre-pubs of CC lore but it did not take long for the eagle eye of member Skinny Pete to carve out a suitable enclave around the far end of the bar.
Five finished their drinks with veteran member Saltieri (inaugural 2011/2012 Ace) joining just in time for the steeled march onto Amirah’s Kitchen, only moments away. Entering through the almost offensive neon green lighting, the club were ushered to a table at the far end, away from prying eyes.
Disdain was rampant at the lack of large Cobra bottles but this was quelled somewhat by the cracking chutneys that found their way to the table, punching well above the average. With a knowing look and the canny comparable to that of riding a bike, the members began negotiating in hushed but firm tones. Latecomer member Glenhole fell afoul of this, finding much to his dismay that the table had already split into two factions on his arrival, with sides and sundries all accounted for. Despite his protestations, no one would come to his aid.
After a very lengthy lecture about watches from member Mobile Disco and a decision to move to a golf-based scoring system* this season: splendid, splendid curry. The Lamb Rogan Josh I can personally vouch for, braised to melt in the mouth. From memory, the other curries received strong shout outs too and the Bhindi Do-piaza came in as a strong favourite for the sides. Seven liquor coffees (five Irish, two decaffeinated Irish and one traditionalist Jamaican) did push the final bill up a little which led to certain member proclaiming that “the cost of the bill has rather tainted my enjoyment of the meal.”
After a brief tour of the dilapidated nearby Young’s brewery by Boxing Steve and a quick discussion about the merits of opening a Kentish poppy farm, the club arrived at its final destination, The Grand Union. Despite the clear instructions to DANCE!, no member took them up on the offer. Instead, they remained staunchly huddled in the corner with over-priced cocktails (as is tradition), putting the world to rights and discussing Dyson’s mum, before secreting off into the night.