How Tories curry favour

“A little nipoonsuckling Never hurt nobody!” From The Sanskrit Proverbs of Bachchoo

Paul Scully, a Tory member of UK’s West mi-nster Parlia-ment, has launched his campaign to import more “curry chefs”.

Mr Scully is MP for a south London constituency not known for the density of its Asian population or for its sub- continental restaurants or cuisine.

Mr Scully is, judging from his statements on the floor of the House, no great connoisseur of Indian food. The giveaway phrase he used was that the quality of “chicken tikka masala” would be improved if Britain imported more expert chefs. Now my mum or grand mum ( and I bet it goes for yours too, dear reader) would not recognise chicken tikka masala as the acme of Indian cuisine. In fact, my longdeparted mummy, naani and daadi would probably have never heard of chicken tikka masala. If they caught a glimpse or had a taste of this British dish, served in every Bangladeshi and some Indian and Pakistani restaurants, they might identify it as badly cooked chicken kebabs. But for the mass of British people who frequent “Indian” restaurants it would be the first dish that would come to mind. As when Romeo is mentioned, the name Juliet comes to mind, any allusion to Indian cuisine would elicit the phrase chicken tikka masala.

The aficionados of CTM, as I choose to henceforth call it would, after a good night’s drinking at the pub, declare that they “could murder an Indian” which would indicate that they intended to go on to the “Star of Bengal”, the “Light of Gurkha”, or some similarly named eatery in the vicinity for a late night meal — and, of course, a few more pints of beer. The Indian menu repertoire of these frequenters would stretch to a “vindaloo”, a “balti’ and a popadom.

I am sure, though he didn’t mention them in his parliamentary speech that Mr Scully is familiar with these confections and rooting for the enhancement of their flavours through the importation of “curry chefs”.

It may seem strange, dear reader, that the quality of curry chefs was raised in the British parliament, but what should seem stranger is that the same Parliament boasts an “all- party parliamentary group on the curry industry”. Mr Scully is the chairman of this committee but is, perhaps, not entirely sincere about improving the quality of CTM. There is an agenda which is, of course, not at all hidden.

Mr Scully is known as a eurosceptic. These are the MPs who want Britain to leave the European Union. The European Union has a policy and treaty of open borders for labour so any number of Polish, Spanish, Greek, etc, workers can and do enter Britain to work. The British public has expressed, through the right wing press, a certain amount of scepticism about immigration. Some people in Britain feel that immigration ought to be stopped altogether and most political parties have announced policies to limit the numbers of immigrant workers entering the country.

Mr Scully argues that if Britain leaves the European Union, the country won’t be obliged to take workers from Europe and would, therefore, have more capacity to import curry cooks. His agenda is clear to other MPs, who want Britain to stay within the European Union.

Steve McCabe, Labour MP for Birmingham Selly Oak, rejected Mr Scully’s arguments and posed a programme to train “balti and curry chefs” in this country.

Now dear reader, you may accept that a certain limited apprehension amongst British MPs would call anyone who can, for instance, turn out wonderful Gujarati vegetarian food or an expert at idli, dosa and sambhar a “curry chef”. But you may wonder what a “balti chef” is. Thereby hangs a tale.

In the late Eighties, there crept onto the menu of Indian restaurants in Birmingham a series of dishes called “balti”. So one could go to the Midland restaurant and order “balti chicken” or “balti lamb”. I remember enquiring decades ago what this dish was. I was told that “balti”, which to me from western India always meant a bucket, was the Mirpuri word for a kadahi or wok. So chicken or anything else cooked in the kadahi was prefixed by the word “balti”.

The explanation didn’t ring true. It was then that I recalled from my reading that in Rudyard Kipling’s Kim, his characters get to the North- West Frontier and their host welcomes the boy Kim and says that his companion a Buddhist lama ought to eat his meal with the grooms from Baltistan. Their food which the lama would eat was no doubt balti chicken or lamb.

Frankly speaking, I and the Indian, Pakistani and Bangladeshi friends I have, wouldn’t go into a restaurant that serves CTM.

We would rather eat authentic Indian food in each other’s homes or go for instance to the Pakistani restaurants such as the Lahore Kebab House which serve authentic food. There seems to be no lack of chefs in this particular chain of restaurants and knowing the proprietors I know they would train or import the ones they needed.

If, however, one is induced by force of circumstance or through the pressures of friendship, to go to a Bangladeshi restaurant, one makes bold to go late and, ignoring the menu, asks if one could have what they call “staff curry”. This is always a good move because the Bangladeshi chefs cook the most authentic and delicious fish, rice and meat dishes for themselves and the waiters, washer- uppers and staff.

If there is a lack of chef expertise it’s not in the territory of CTM. Dear reader, pardon my nostalgia but I want to note here that London and the rest of England boasts just one restaurant serving Parsi cuisine. I am convinced that a good menu of dhansakh, the various Parsi pulaos, patraan- nimachhi, bhida-par- eeda, sali- boti etc. would do the nation’s cuisine endless good. Parsi cooks should petition Mr Scully to sponsor their British working visas.

Paul Scully is no great connoisseur of Indian food. The giveaway phrase he used was that the quality of ‘ chicken tikka masala’ would be improved if Britain imported more expert chefs.