Topic: Curry Hell

[Graeme]

This link and text is here because some mad curry lovers
posted that they really wanted to try this out, no way!

First is the text, then at the bottom of the page is the link
much respect to the author...ouch...

So here we go,...cant say much more just take time to read it all,
if you dare!

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Abdul Latif - The Lord of Harpole, will not be held legally responsible if your arsehole falls out the bottom of your trouser leg after eating Curry Hell.

I was kinda surprised this morning when I realised there is another blog on the web with extremely similar name to mine.

http://spacehardware.blogspot.com/

It's cool, written by a dude from Newcastle in England's northeast.

Reading through it reminded me of one of my favourite travel adventures which took place in this under-discovered city.

I was on my way from Manchester to Edinburgh when I decided to put in an overnight stop in Newcastle Upon Tyne. Why? Aren't all of northern England's cities just industrial shit heaps? To a certain extent they are, I mean places like Widness, Bradford and Hull are a sad blight on a potentially breathtaking landscape.

When it comes to The North, you have to force yourself to forget the fact that just about every street looks like a dingy Surry Hills back alley and instead focus on the salt of the Earth warmth of the inhabitants. Northerners are fifty times more friendly than their southern English counterparts, and infinitely so compared to Londoners. It's Rugby League territory after all! The industrial revolution came and went, as did Maggie Thatcher, both beating down the locals who throughout it all, never lost their dour determination and raffish charms.

I pulled into Newcastle late in the afternoon. I've always had a soft spot for Newcastle United FC so I went down to their home ground, St James's Park and had my photo taken holding up a copy of that other great Newcastle institution, Viz Comics.

I've been reading Viz since I was sixteen, it is home to the greatest comic strip ever devised - The Vibrating Bum-faced Goats.

In recent years, Viz has featured numerous ads for a place in Newcastle called the Rupali Restaurant, home of Curry Hell, the world's hottest curry. Eat it all and it's free, if not you pay ?6.95.

The foodies out there will know that Indian/Bangladeshi curries are not really meant to be all that psychotically hot, the practice of setting fire to people's stomachs is something that has emerged to cater to the dim-witted drunken English geezer's wanton need to harm themselves with hot food - hence we have Curry Hell.

You can see where this story is going. After heading back out of town to take some photo's of the amazing Angel of the North, I dumped my shit at the hostel and headed on down to the Rupali, slightly concerned that the next time I "dumped my shit", I would need a fire extinguisher to deal with the situation.

The Rupali is run by Abdul Latif, The Lord or Harpole (a peerage he actually purchased somehow). I recognised him instantly after seeing his picture in Viz for so many years. Originally from Bangladesh, Latif came to Newcastle in 1969 and "fell in love with the people, not the business". He opened the Rupali in 1977.

He greeted me warmly and noted my accent, "So another Aussie is here to take my challenge? I do warn you, if you die whilst eating my Curry Hell, your next of kin will have to pay for it."

Challenge Accepted.

Those who know me are aware of how much I sweat when I eat hot food. I LOVE hot food; Thai, Indian, Mexican, Korean. It just appears that I've dunked my head under the tap after one bite.

My Curry Hell appeared with a side order of pappadums. The waiter smiled at me and wished me luck. I mixed a few of the red/brown chunks onto my pappadum and raised it to my lips remembering an old issue of Viz featured the disclaimer that, "Abdul Latif, the Lord of Harpole takes no responsibility if your arsehole falls out the bottom of your trouser leg after eating Curry Hell."

So, how hot was it?

Take a whole handful of those lethal orange chillies, mash them up and drown them in Tabasco sauce. Add some Korean Kimchee and wrap the whole concoction up in newspaper, drown it in petrol and set it alight.

Then imagine that intensity of heat and multiply it by a thousand. You're getting somewhere near to the temperature of Curry Hell.

The waiters gathered around for their usual cack attack over anyone who tries to eat it but I couldn't really understand them. Geordie accents at the best of times are indecipherable but chuck in a Bangladeshi lilt and I was lost. I DID keep hearing "stupid bastard Aussie" over and over again though.

I'd downed three mouthfuls so far and was starting to sweat through my polo neck sweater. Most people manage about the same before chucking it in, not this soldier.

I bought a couple of mandarins from the local Sainsbury's before I arrived and in between gulps of water I threw down a few pieces to take the edge of the heat. It wasn't much use, it was like the older Helicopters water bombing the Sydney bushfires. I needed one of those purpose built "Elvis" and "Georgia Peach" water bombers.

By my sixth mouthful I had tears streaming from my eyes and rivers of snot pouring out my nose. I was sweating more than Luther Vandross during a second encore and worst of all, I could feel my stomach preparing to stage a revolt against the working conditions I so cruelly placed upon it.

Time to throw in the towel. I had a nasty premonition that I was going to need a towel to wipe my arse once this napalm-like curry made it's way to my lower intestine.

The Lord of Harpole only poses for photographs with people who manage to eat the whole lot but he and his staff were impressed with my dogged determination to get as far as I did. That and well, not many Aussies have taken on the challenge so far and he was quite chuffed that someone from the other side of the world was able to recognise him.

I posed for my photo, paid my seven quid and legged it back to the hostel and to the sanctuary of the dunnies.

The squeamish should stop reading NOW!

It was my first dump of the day, so I had the morning's porridge to unload first. Imagine one of those Nascar/Speedway races where the competitors are all jammed in behind the pace car, ready to put their foot down as soon as the signal is given.

Well, my hard and nuggetty porridge turd was the pace car and once I managed to wiggle that out the exit chute, the competitors in the Newcastle Curry Hell 500 came flying out of the blocks, hell bent on breaking the Darp's anal passage land speed record, last set by a nasty case of food poisoning due to a dodgy Thai Green Curry at Prasits on Crown Street, Sydney.

The first burst was pure liquid, my body was punishing me by re-routing the normal flow of excrement and choosing to piss out my arsehole. Oh, the pain of it all!

I graduated to the radioactive sludge stage after about five minutes, my poor ringpiece gradually resembling a burning tyre. Each new contraction brought fourth a new spray of bum nuggets and gravy and a subsequent sob of agony from yours truly. These were communal dunnies so every now and then someone would open the door, loudly sniff the air and promptly scarper.

A good half hour went by when I felt that the worst had past. Next challenge was to wipe my freckle without messing with its structural integrity. One wipe told me that I needed to jump in the nearest shower and deal with the situation - eyes closed.

Up with the shreddies for a most uncomfortable walk back to my dorm to grab my towel.

I dumped my boxers in the bin afterwards.

Go to Newcastle, it's great!
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the site was...

http://isitwrongtowishonspacehardware.blogspot.com/2004_08_08_isitwrongtowishonspacehardware_archive.html

its the first story dated : Thursday, August 12, 2004.

to see a pic and check out the site copy and paste
above into browser, then hit go.

pls note:
this is not the curry hell web site, its the site
that the text was taken from.

graeme.

[Ghoulie]

Brilliant post - had me in tears.

Reminds me of a time in the late 1960s when my mate Pete - on leave from Army duties (Yemen) to get married - so his stag do after many beers ended up in the Taj Restaurant as was then on Princess Street Manchester. 

This place was pretty good and the Madras was as much as I could manage in there.  Pete asked 'what is the hottest curry?'.  That would be the Phaall sir said the waiter.  'Chicken Phaall it is then' said Pete.

My Madras was excellent - I tried a tiny snippet of Petes dish - Wow !! - I left him to it.

After 3 full pitchers of iced water, 2 pints of cold lager and a bucket of sweat pouring off his head - Pete finished his meal and the waiter came over and asked how it was.  Pete said 'Bloody fantastic mate - one of the best curries I 've ever had.

The waiter replied - 'That was the Vindaloo sir - bloody good job we didn't give the Phaall !'

[sp]

Hilarious and thought-provoking in equal measure ;D.... I'm sorely (sorry) tempted to enter the Kismot restaurants "Kismot Killer" contest next week down in Edinburgh after it featured last year on the news for hospitalising competitors (http://www.google.co.uk/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=bbc%20news%20kismot%20killer&source=web&cd=2&ved=0CCcQtwIwAQ&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.bbc.co.uk%2Fnews%2Fuk-15195530&ei=8Yl4UITyGqSs0QWC0IGwCQ&usg=AFQjCNFN9nY2nJ05YWJKAXUPTDu4ZSx_zA), maybe this is the voice of reason - to quote Tony Hancock "let the shipwrecks of others be your sea marks!"

[Aussie Mick]

That was funny.

[Ghoulie]

I have another friend - a scouser called Maureen - we were living in Dubai as was Maureen & her hubby.  When we had them round for a curry evening, we had to give Maureen a full roll of bog paper to take with her.  There was something in a curry that meant a curry (any curry !) would go straight through Maureen - so inevitably on their  1/2 mile drive home you could guarantee she would be taken short and have to take off into the nearest desert scrub for a rapid dump !  She never failed.  Strangely, back in the UK - curries here do not have the same effect on her 'system'.

I have another mate Willy - loves curries - and he went to a curry cooking class at an Indian restaurant.  It was here he sussed out that coriander was the ingredient that had been causing him serious upset tummy problems.  I must confess i hate the overpowering taste of the now godforsaken obligatory garnishing of curries and side dishes with coriander leaves.  I never used to see this pre 1980s - so christ knows why it suddenly seemed to appear on the scene - but I now explicitly ask when ordering - NO CORIANDER

[Peripatetic Phil]

I now explicitly ask when ordering - NO CORIANDER

We should dine at the same place at the same time, then I can ask for your portion of coriander as well as my own
** Phil.

[Secret Santa]

I now explicitly ask when ordering - NO CORIANDER

We should dine at the same place at the same time, then I can ask for your portion of coriander as well as my own
** Phil.

Ahhhh coriander. The Marmite of the BIR world!  ;D

[Kashmiri Bob]

Very funny.  Im old enough to know better, but still tempted occasionally to ask for an extra hot phall.  Madness, but at least you know it will pretty hot and spicey.  Had an update from Julian a while back and at some point he's going to reveal his receipe for a dish called Man Versus Curry. The hottest curry in Chorley.

Rob 

[curryhell]

I've just wiped away the tears having picked myself up off the foor.  It's been a while since i laughed that much.  Nice post Graeme . Such lovely graphic desriptions I could not possibly better.
Whilst in Edingburgh I made a trip to Newcastle specifically to visit Abdul the Lord of Harpole (RIP) and sample his curryhell.  This had been on my radar for years but had never been near enough to Newcastle to do it so this was the ideal opportunity.  Not that Edinburgh is that near
I did complete the challenge, had my photo done with the the man himself presenting me (adorned in robes and turban) with the certificate for having completed the challenge successfully and a  few gifts as well to take home.  I've never eaten anything as hot since.  My secret weapon was the pint of milk to calm the stomach during the ordeal along with plenty of rice in an attempt to take the edge of the bowl of molten lava.
That said, if i'd have known about the kismot killer i'd have probably tried that  upon my return.  Foolish times indeed.  I am slowly learning a little respect for my taste buds but i still can't resist the occasional really hot one ;D
As for the "marmite" of the BIR world, that sums up the herb exactly.  Personally, i love the stuff in moderation as it adds something if not overdone whereas others loathe it with a passion.

Abdul's dynamite chicken was a good curry, so i'm now looking forward to making Juliens Man Versus Curry as a comparison.  Somehow I don't think it's going to get anywhere near to the Rupali dish.  But  I may be proved wrong : And live to tell the tale but i will spare you the graphic details