British "Local Color" At Its Best: Lahore Kebab House

Absurdity Disclaimer: This is a mammoth post with an absurd amount of pictures. Don't hate me. I have to put my pregnant energy into SOMETHING.

Ludovictus Watch: T-minus 5 days (or 2 wks +5 days) and counting.

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Good old Umberston Street.

The first (blessed) time Matt every mentioned Lahore Kebab House to me was a little over a year ago. He had gone there for a business lunch with his coworkers and couldn't stop raving about a little "BYOB hole in the wall Pakistani restaurant" with the most "electric food" he'd ever tasted, located in The City of London.

Our table after our ravenous endeavors.

Both being fans of a "good curry," as the British call it, we swore to make a personal pilgrimage to Lahore. After all, the place came recommended by Matt's boss, who, part Pakistani, knows his stuff. He has since then taken Matt and the guys to several more "hole in the wall" Indian / Pakistani joints around London, but Matt maintains this is the absolute best.

Bubbling cauldrons of deliciousness in the Lahore kitchen.

We finally made it over for the first time last October when my mom was visiting, before heading to The Tower of London for a historic witnessing of The Ceremony of the Keys. Mesmerized, we swore to go back again. And this weekend, we finally did.

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Lahore Kebab House: Enough Said.

go there; go back; have the lamb chops.

Freshly made poppadum in the Lahore kitchen.

A Little British "Local Color"
This Saturday, 39 weeks and 1 day pregnant, we figured it was about time we headed over to see if the old wives tale about spicy food inducing labor really rang true. Good husband that he is, Matt rented a Streetcar for a couple of hours, and took me on a luxurious car ride down my favorite road in London (particularly beautiful at this time of year): Embankment. I can't tell you the aesthetic and primal thrill it is to fly down this road on my little red vespa in the Springtime!

It follows the River Thames all the way from West London to The City and passes everything from the Battersea Power Station to Westminster (read: Parliament & the somewhat freaky past leader statues in front of it) to the many and infamous London bridges.

Tubby Isaacs - Jellied Eels & Seafood; they cater, FYI.

Along the way we also passed a typically British thing worth mentioning: Tubby Isaac's - a jellied eel and seafood stand (established in 1919) famous for its uniquely East-end snacks. Not my cup of tea, but definitely a piece of "local color."

We also got a glimpse of the RBS building and its broken windows. Don't you just LOVE the mob mentality? Right, moving on...

Parking was a challenge at first but we ended up finding a cosy spot deep within a local, predominantly-Muslim neighborhood, where we found further examples of typical modern British culture:

Yes, that is a lovely black Lamborghini parked outside council housing.

Yes, that is a beautiful, locally painted mural dedicated to Allah.
Incidentally, we are right off "Christian Street."

Our Meal: The Real Deal
Coming recommended from a business man, one might expect a glammy-glitzy-high-end Cinnamon-Club-esque place (don't get me wrong - I'm a big fan of the CC), but Lahore couldn't be further from it. Cheap and cheerful, the restaurant is basic but very clean and efficient. Nothing is overstated, though the tables offer ample elbow room, the portions are generous and the waitstaff plentiful. The place was created as a blank but highly utilitarian canvas on which to showcase their artistic speciality: simple, authentic and delicious Pakistani food.

First stop as seasoned veterans of the Lahore experience: the local bodega to buy Matt some Cobra beer. Being a Muslim establishment, Lahore does not sell pork or alcohol, but they do allow you to BYOB. We indulged, as is our wont.

Prerequisite Cobra in hand, we were taken to our table where I was allowed to indulge in my great love of menu-browsing and ceremonious ordering, but not before taking a gander at their amazing open-kitchen behind the giant window-wall. One of the chefs even stopped to let me take a picture of the gigantic pile of poppadums he was carrying (very nice of him :) ).


Starters:
Even before you order, your table is automatically brought a giant bottle of water (to quell the anticipated fire, I would guess), some mint-yogurt chutney, and a big plate of sliced lettuce, tomato, and cucumber to nibble on till the games begin. I also got a mango lassi - my favorite.

Next, the much-loved, much-lauded Grilled Lamb Chops. I don't know how else to describe these besides saying they are spicy pieces of tender Lamb heaven. You cannot go to Lahore and not try them. They are grilled with an orange-colored, spicy Pakistani spice rub and sprinkled with cilantro.

Get the lamb chops or you will have never really lived.

Main Courses:
To help with some of the spice, we got one order each of handmade Chili Naan and Garlic Naan, straight off the cool charcoal oven.

Chili Naan! Real pieces of Jalapeno scattered about...score.

Still-warm Garlic Naan; copious amounts of Garlic abound.

We also got our favorite vegetarian course: Saag Paneer.

Yummy homemade cheese with delicious spinach and spices.

For the carnivores inside, I ordered Karahi Chicken and, a Pakistani / Indian prerequisite: rice for two.

Karahi Chicken, Lahore style.

Upon first inspection, the dishes look like your usual curry fare, but it is the uniquely Pakistani and freshly ground spice combinations that give these dishes the Lahore "touch" that I have not found replicated elsewhere.

This was all more than enough for two big eaters. Everything was brought quickly, hot, and delicious in typical metal curry dishes and was obviously made freshly. Highly recommended all around.


Pudding (as the Brits would say):

My box of goodies.

Matt and I made a familiar pact that, even after indulging in our incredible Pakistani feast, we would save just a little shred of room in our bellies to attack the alluring Bangladeshi sweet-shop we had passed on our way to Umberston Street.

Temptation in the form of Gulab Jam? Check.

This is where we got Gulab Jam and many other little tasty sweeties. The shop keeper pegged us for American tourists (and told us as much); he seemed annoyed when we told him we actually lived in London. I think he was hoping to get us to buy a kilo of sugary goodness instead of the 6 pieces we settled on. Oh well! As Matt so aptly noted: walking around looking like gringos will do that for you!

What a way to end an already culinarily and culturally delicious afternoon!

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Lahore Kebab House
2-10 Umberston Street
London E1 1PY

Tel: 020 7481 9737
NB: Make reservations if you are going in the evening. It gets crowded and you want space to suck the bones dry! :)

The Tortilla Crisis &, um, Happy 39 Weeks!

I am a serious corn tortilla hoarder.

Another Friday has come, and with it the end to another week of pregnancy (Thank God).

How callaced and bitter do I sound and it's not even my due date?!

Nobody really tells you about the dark side of pregnancy - those last mortifyingly endless weeks of heavy and constant anticipation. Or maybe if they do tell you, you're still so far stuck in the pink cloud of early-pregnancy euphoria that you refuse to listen and assume they're just bitter and pathetic. I'm pretty sure that's what I did anyway, but now I know they weren't lying. I am humbled by my own deluded willingness to believe that I would never reach this stage (especially knowing my own impatience).

Yes, it's "Happy" 39 weeks - but I have to be completely honest, I'm a little less than on cloud (3)9. Not that I'm angry or bitter, I'm just frustrated and impatient. And I think I am allowed to say that without seeming really horrible, because (in all honesty) the impatience and readiness to have this baby does not in any way lessen the excitement and happiness I feel about it.

On that note - I figured it was about time for a little pictorial bump update. Here's the midge and me last week, in the kitchen, as usual. O Sole Mio and all that jazz.

38 weeks and still smiling.

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On a somewhat unrelated but almost equally important note, there is one other big reason (besides my entirely-selfish impatience) why Ludovictus needs to get his butt out into the open air: I have reached a serious corn tortilla crisis.

It is a little known fact (because nobody seems to care) that the UK is pretty much completely and utterly devoid of good corn tortillas (my personal crack cocaine). What they sell (in copious amounts) are these wretched things they refer to as "wraps." They come in all sorts of ridiculous "Mexican" flavors like "salsa," "cumin" or "chili & jalapeno." *insert mini gag noise here*

I'm sorry, but if I wanted badly made flour tortillas, I'd whip up a batch myself. My grandmother and her family are from the north of Mexico and I'm willing to bet my first attempt at their staple starch would STILL be better than the crap Tesco sells.

Yes, I freakin' do judge people who use "fajita kits." Because if they'd tasted the real thing, they would too!

I could go on about this for pages and pages (and probably will at a later date), so I'll stop here, but if you want to see what "Mexican Food" means to most British people, simply take a gander at this website and see the constant hell I have to endure when trying to make some comfort food.

If it's not sh*tty products, then it's blatantly ignorant portrayals of "Mexicans" on packaging and the media.
Sadly,I buy these chips every week from Tesco. Love the um, mustard bottle (wtf?) in his "belt."

There is actually one tortilla machine in the UK (called "El monstruo"), located at a decent restaurant in Notting Hill. But they're version of corn tortillas is as good as biting into stale cardboard. Your tacos crack, your huevos rancheros are impossible to cut through. You have to sell an organ to be able to afford them. No good for anyone involved.

For these and many other reasons, I basically force my mother to break international customs laws and bring me copious amounts of my favorite corn tortillas straight from Texas whenever she comes to visit. This usually means that half of one entire large suitcase is lined with pre-portioned ziplock bags containing pre-frozen corn tortillas from H.E.B. It is always a big production when she gets here to unpack as quickly as possible and transfer the loot to my freezer, where I carefully ration and hoard them until her next (or our next) scheduled visit to the US.

Sadly, pregnancy has made me less than careful with my rationing. Usually I'm a pretty strict totalitarian with regards to household corn tortilla usage. Matt is typically relegated to the Tesco Slighly Salted Tortilla Chips (see above) or bread, being a hopeless gringo at heart (unless he really demands tortillas). He just doesn't show me the kind of orgasmic culinary joy I expect when I toast my little preciouses by hand on the gas stove to eat with a Mexican meal (probably made with my also-rationed salsa verde and Sazon Goya).

Point being: today I used two of the last four tortillas in the last package of rationed corn tortillas that were in the freezer. And mom doesn't arrive for baby's arrival until the 13th of April. Can you really blame me for the less than chipper post?!

Happy Friday!

Eat a corn tortilla for me, especially you lucky bastards in the Southwest and California. :)