Graeme Virtue: Spice of life - why Glasgow is aiming to regain its status as Curry Capital

DONNIE Macrae is a self-confessed lifer. “I’ve had millions of curries in Glasgow,” he says. At first, it’s unclear whether he means “millions” in the colloquial sense of “lots”, or the genuine seven-figure consumption of karahis.

“OK,” clarifies the 42-year-old. “I’ve had thousands of curries in Glasgow. And I’ve never left the restaurant thinking, ‘that wisnae good’.”

We’re in a snug corner booth at Slumdog, the Sauchiehall Street bar and kitchen that takes its name from Danny Boyle’s plucky Oscar-winning movie Slumdog Millionaire. The menu features a cocktail called Jai Ho after the film’s signature Bollywood number, but, sadly, no millionaire’s shortbread to accompany its truly excellent coffee. Macrae and his pal Darren Tarburn have just finished a lunchtime curry, or at least tried to. “I had chicken bhuna and I actually had to leave some of it,” says Macrae, genuinely mournful. “Maybe the first time I’ve ever left some chicken.”

Macrae’s bhuna anguish is emblematic of the fact that, over the course of five decades, Glasgow and curry have become entwined in a sort of spicy symbiosis, a relationship that clearly nourishes both parties. “I think it’s a generational thing,” says Tarburn. “It sometimes seems like every man, woman and child is going for a curry. If you were to take a group of ten Glaswegians and ask them what their favourite food was, seven of them would say curry, at least.”

The city’s near-mythical capacity for – and enjoyment of – curry was rubber-stamped last year when it was awarded the national title of Curry Capital 2010. The official announcement was made on the BBC Radio Midlands Breakfast Show, where local presenter Phil Upton stumbled over the news that Birmingham, home of the famous “Balti Triangle”, had been placed only fifth (trailing Bradford, Wolverhampton and Leicester). In the competition’s stop-start history – it has awarded the title seven times in ten years – Glasgow has notched up four victories, and appears to wear the curry crown as rakishly as the eternal traffic cone atop the city’s Duke of Wellington statue. But this year, the knives are out, and Birmingham may have its revenge. The 2011 result will be announced on 1 November, after a judging process that has taken almost two months.

For his part, Macrae is bullish about Glasgow’s chances of retaining the title. “It should never lose it,” he says.

But how do you quantify “it”? Does a city’s inherent Curry Capital-ness lie with the quality of the restaurants, the enthusiasm of the clientele or some combination of both? As one of the team of four restaurants representing Glasgow in the competition, Slumdog seems like an appropriate place to try to divine an answer. On a dreich weekday, a steady stream of diners files into the 150-cover premises, tempted by a generous lunch deal, a competitive pre-theatre offer and the colourful, authentic Rajasthan-sourced fixtures and fittings. In truth, not many patrons seem to have heard of Curry Capital, but after being informed of its existence, no-one seems particularly surprised that Glasgow holds the title. Ronnie and Anne Paterson, a retired couple from Bishopbriggs, are enjoying their once-a-week curry ritual over lamb karahi and desi chicken.

“Glasgow has a great history of curry,” says Ronnie. “We’ve had curry in London and all over, and what we’ve had here has been some of the best.” A keen home cook, he likes to compare techniques and recipes with restaurant chefs to advance his own understanding. “We seem to have moved beyond quantity over quality. For me, it’s about looking for the more subtle tastes.”

For Naveen Nath, Slumdog’s dapper manager, being chosen to represent Glasgow is a point of professional pride, especially as he’s been in charge for under a year. Before moving to Scotland in 2003, Nath worked in upscale Mumbai hotels, looking after well-heeled guests and Bollywood stars, with frequent pitstops at the city’s famous roadside food stalls to refuel. Precise but genial, he appears relaxed about Curry Capital judges running the rule over his establishment. “They will come, but we don’t know when they will come… they might have been already.”

Though it would be a considerable fillip to help win a national competition, Nath retains a broader perspective, discussing the 2014 Commonwealth Games with a disarming lack of cynicism. “I saw how the Games transformed Delhi in 2010 so I was very happy when Glasgow won the bid. It’s a big thing and will do so much good for the city. It makes me feel proud to be living in Glasgow.”

Businesswomen Donna Armstrong and Angela Barrett have just popped in. They’re over from Edinburgh scouting potential units for their new dining concept StreetBar, a proposed pic’n’mix of fast, fuss-free street food, collating the finger-licking best of India, Brazil and beyond. One wonders if their layover at Slumdog is entirely accidental, as variations on Mumbai street food dominate the bar menu, but Armstrong is intently studying the cocktail list. “Cardamom-spiced cocktails! If I didn’t have the car I’d be trying those.” She admits her curry weakness is butter chicken. Barrett has something hotter in mind. “I like vindaloo,” she says. “She’s a spicy chick,” adds Armstrong. When asked about Edinburgh’s potential form in the Curry Capital competition, they both refer to a recent kerfuffle at one of the capital’s restaurants, an open tournament of insanely hot curry endurance that raised a considerable amount for charity but also hospitalised two of the contestants. It was an irresistible story that rapidly circled the globe via every persuasion of social media. So even though the curry house in question was unaffiliated with the city’s official Curry Capital campaign, for now, Edinburgh curry is unfairly associated with the sound of sirens. Having both spent time in Glasgow, Armstrong and Barrett have a respect for the city’s capacity for socialising and consumption that borders on awe. It might not fall within the official Curry Capital criteria, but it feels persuasive. “Glasgow probably does deserve to keep that award,” says Armstrong. “Because they really, really go for it.”

At the next booth over, two fashion technology students are sizing up the lunch menu. Indra Melter, a 23-year-old German, and Ida Mammarlund, a 21-year-old Swede, are taking a long weekend off from their studies at Heriot-Watt’s textile campus in Galashiels. “This is actually our first curry in Scotland”, says Melter. So is curry a big deal in Germany? “Not really.” What about in Sweden? “There is an average interest,” says Mammarlund, politely. Forty minutes later, they give a Eurovision-esque verdict on this potentially life-changing experience. Mammarlund began with prawn cocktail – not quite in keeping with the spirit of the enterprise – but her desi chicken gets two cautious thumbs up. Melter’s vegetable pakora and chicken korma, though, seem to have ignited something primal in her. “It was of a really high standard,” she says. “Where else in Glasgow is good?” Does that mean she’s considering having curry two days in a row? “I’m thinking about it.”

Of the four restaurants representing Glasgow in Curry Capital 2011, two are run by the same man (which is unusual but not necessarily ominous, as the curry houses are selected by public vote). Along with co-director Asha Bains, Rajesh Safar heads the Kama Sutra Group, parent company of Slumdog and the original Kama Sutra restaurant, situated about 100 yards east on Sauchiehall Street. He has popped in to catch up after a short break in Yorkshire and, tellingly, he was cooking curry even when holidaying in a caravan. “I would probably survive about two days without curry,” he says. Does Safar feel the pressure of representing 50 per cent of Glasgow while it holds the Curry Capital title? “Competition is always good,” he says. “Sometimes it’s a pressure, sometimes it’s a comfort. So we’re hoping it will be a comfort.”

Originally from Kashmir, Safar has lived in Glasgow for almost a decade, and was immediately impressed by the Scottish appetite for curry. “It has become a staple food,” he says. “From shepherd’s pie to lamb karahi. Recently, the youngest customer in our restaurant was just three months old, and she was tasting her mother’s korma. Glaswegians are just very passionate about it.”

A lone male diner is contemplating a delicious-smelling lamb seekh kebab served in a steeply-inclined bronzed vase. What convinced him to opt for curry today? “My nose is showing me the way,” he replies.

Andris Gauja is a 33-year-old Latvian film director, in town for Document 9, a four-day film festival dedicated to human rights. His documentary, Family Instinct, is screening in a few hours, and he has recently landed, ravenous, in Glasgow. Curry is not a big thing in his home country. Gauja, half-joking, mostly-serious, blames 50 years under a Soviet regime. “Everything was the same, the food, the culture, everything. It is only in the last 20 years that we have become more open to other cultures, other tastes. So we have not yet developed the taste for spicy food.”

My pre-packaged spiel about Glasgow’s innate curry affinity suddenly sounds a little hollow. But Gauja is very gracious. “I would like to try more. In a cautious way. Not too spicy. But Latvians are becoming more used to spicy food. We are on our way. Perhaps we should have curry tours to Glasgow.”