I’ll warn you now. This is going to be mainly about food. And it may include references to curried goat.
So the house was wonderful. But what good is a great kitchen with no food in it? Being weary travellers the thought of venturing into the West End was out of the question. There was so much to explore food-wise within walking distance. One of the three weary travellers informed the other two that it was a toss up between Ethiopian and Jamaican. As the Jamaican one was the nearest and had good reviews on trip advisor, we went for that. It was called The Negril. It was at this point that I revealed that my partner, who couldn’t join us for the trip, had given me some money for us all to spend on a meal out. This welcome generosity gee’d us up and we set off with an air of intrepidation for Brixton Hill Road.
This is what greeted us as we arrived early evening:
If your mother is anything like mine, she wouldn’t go any further than this. But in we went.
It’s a small restaurant with small tables in one room. The menu was great, the food choices were nothing like we’d seen before, and they all looked good. One of our party engaged the waiters into explaining what Ackee was. It turned out to be some sort of fruit which was cooked a bit like a vegetable. The waiters patiently described how it grew, what it looked like as a fruit on the tree, that it was poisonous if unripe, etc. (!) However, when asked what it tasted like they were stumped. After several abortive attempts they said ‘there’s nothing else like it’, ‘just try it’. So we did and if you want to know any more about it. They were right.
We sampled the Ackee, the saltfish with plantains, the jerk chicken, and the goat curry and the roti flatbreads. All were full of flavour and perfectly cooked. We loved it. A friendly restaurant with patient waiting staff if you are unfamiliar with the food. This is them and us with the picture taken at the back of the restaurant by the chef, a woman who emerged with a big smile from the kitchen behind her:
negrilrestaurant.co.uk. highly recommended.
With an enormous feeling of well being (stuffed) we left The Negril for the walk home, purchasing some bagels, bacon, and eggs for our breakfast the next morning on our way.
Slotted Spoon. Update 1. The crisis of the slotted spoon is steadily rising in the background all the time, but at this stage we are all still blissfully unaware of what is to befall us.
Next up: The Trip to Windsor, and crisis at breakfast.
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