Tasty and interesting Fast food from the Indian subcontinent gets a Western makeover

THEY will bring my fast-food all-day desi breakfast right up to the table, masalas and chanas, parathas, silver dishes on a red plastic tray, waxy newsprint wrappers also tightly rolling up botis and naans.

And I’ll look up from trying to count just how many Chaiiwala’s there are already open in the UK (answer: I get bored at 20-plus) to raise an eyebrow at this special service: given the buzzer thing that’s supposed to tell me when to go and collect my food is still blinking dopily on the table.

You must have turned the buzzer thing off by accident, says the nice lady, nicely, as behind her a glorious technicolour photo of pakora (£2) majestically fills an electronic picture frame. Beside that, the Glasgow boys whose entertaining chat about motors I’ve been earwigging turn their heads to watch what’s going on.

I’ll take a sip of chocolatey, cinnamony karak chai from a take-away cup (yikes) and pretend I know what I’m doing as I fill a freshly toasted roll (pav bhaji) with mixed veg curry, sprinkling on raw onion and squeezing lemon.

Now, I’m thinking as I look at a table strewn with wrappers and a cardboard box, photo-realistic foldable menu in hand: what the bloody hell is what?

Full disclosure, I’ll spend most of this meal in a tireless quest to find the butter chicken roll before realising a) it’s actually in a roti and b) I’ve already eaten it. Hmm.

I’ll flip open the lid of that box and peer at an engagingly squirty concoction of chickpea, chutneys, yoghurts, samosa, dig around in its mush for a few moments, dig even deeper, then strike wooden fork against unidentifiably spongy thang and think: eek I’m not sure about this.

By now Putin has actually invaded Ukraine, that family down at the bottom table, whose kid has understandably been running round in ever increasing circles since I got here, are packing up; a couple of older dudes have collected chai lattes from the counter and are slipping into easy chairs beside the window, and a threesome in the booth over there is languidly eating mini samosas from a wax paper cone.

It’s the lull before the (yet another) storm, before the multiplex next door switches on its lights to the paying public and before I dig into my own waxy cone filled with mogo chips. Or deep-fried casava fingers, to you mate, in chilli powder with smoky gazebo sauce (in little plastic tub).

I can tell you this: in an insecure world the future of the potato is still assured. Okay, if you were to peer in here right now you would see me gobble down the last slobbery bites of that malai boti, its crisply toasted rolled naan, cracking appetisingly, juicy, dribbly char-grilled chicken, mango chutney and yoghurt juices being steered deftly away from my shirt with a sharp turn of the head.

And now…we will return to that desi breakfast. Do I wrap the omelette in the paratha, I could have had roti with this or Bombay toast. Or do I dip the paratha in the chana and daal, I could have had masala beans with that. Or just pick them off one by one? Who knows...

The omelette anyway is juicy, the chickpeas sweet, but the daal?

This may well be part of a monster franchise chain marching across the UK, and for all I know the food may arrive in vacuum bags from a factory in Bolton, to be pinged into warmth, but they still serve a deliciously spiced, sweetly engaging daal.

And consider, too, that pav bhaji. Who knew a finely chopped vegetable curry, righteously seasoned, in a toasted bun, a la McDonald’s, could be so satisfying?

Chaiiwala kinda reminds me of Taco

Bell without the tiny portions and the hefty prices, McDonald’s without that cultural imperialism and the faux happiness.

It’s fast food, from the Indian subcontinent, wrapped in a Western makeover. And it’s not bad. Nor expensive.

PHOTOGRAPH: COLIN MEARNS Chaiiwala on Paisley Road, in Glasgow, offers good value and interesting flavours in fairly humdrum surroundings