Chicken Tikka Masala

[wellinghall]

Glasgow claims that it invented Chicken Tikka Masala ...

... and has called for the dish to be given Protected Designation of Origin Status.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/glasgow_and_west/8161812.stm

ETA: More silliness:
I was leafing through my Amazon recommendations recently, and saw that it recommended "Blacakadder: the complete collection" on DVD. Fair enough, I thought; I'm a big Blackadder fan. Then I saw that it was being recommended to me because I owned Pevsner on the buildings of Gloucestershire. WTF???

Comments

[philmophlegm.livejournal.com]

The deep fried Mars bar is a Glasgow dish more worthy of celebration.

[emperor]

MPs really need less time off over the summer...

[the-marquis.livejournal.com]

So there's going to be a turf war with Brum about this is there?

[wellinghall.livejournal.com]

Brum certainly claims the Balti ("Bring these Animals a Lousy Take-away Indian"), but I hadn't heard that it claimed the Tikka Masala. Still, as one who doesn't eat a lot of spicy (or mustardy ;-) ) food, I do not claim to be an expert on this, despite my eight years there.

[didiusjulianus.livejournal.com]

I tihnk it's a general "let's grab what we can, while it is (might be) up for grabs" ;)

[didiusjulianus.livejournal.com]

I think that is just a rumour, it's the name of the implement it is cooked in (and hence why other places are saying no you can't have 'Balti' for yourselves because it isn't referring to the meal itself, let alone any other considerations).

[ladyofastolat.livejournal.com]

What? You haven't heard the story? Then let me tell you.

Back in the late seventeenth century, the McGregor name was outlawed, forcing people who bore that surname to adopt a variety of alternative names. One prominent McGregor - Wild Sorlie McGregor - refused to bow his own head, but constented to bestow the surname McSorlie - son of Sorlie - on his offspring. Thus was a proud but wild house formed, and many were its triumphs and tribulations through the complex history of Scotland over the next few centuries.

But our tale is not the tale of a family, but of a man, the many-times-grandson of Wild Sorlie, born into a less fierce but perhaps less noble age. Born in the latter half of the twentieth century, he drifted through a variety of jobs, though the only one of interest in our present tale is the job he took in a downmarket Indian takeaway in the Castlemilk area of Glasgow. It is doubtful whether any Indian would have recognised the food that this establishment sold, but its regular users counted themselves as well pleased. One dish - a certain chicken dish, for our McSorlie well-remembered the skills in flesh and fowl learnt by his forefathers in the days of their wandering - stood head and shoulders above the others in popularity, so much so that it came to be called merely "chicken," all other chicken-based dishes fading from local memory.

Thick it was, and spicy, with a rich ruddy sauce. However, on one evening - long may it live in memory! - our McSorlie was distracted by thoughts of an ailing hamster, and failed to pay attention in the kitchen. Instead of one measure of water, he added two, producing a batch of the "chicken" that was runny in the extreme.

Observing the thin mush, his boss was far from pleased, although he smiled in front of his customers and passed it off as "new" and "improved." However, once the restaurant was empty, he shouted into the kitchen, and loud and great was his wrath, so much so that the clarity of his words was impaired. "Make the chicken thicker, McSorlie!" he shouted.

Empty, did I say? Unbeknown to him, a group of customers, new to the restaurant if not to the area, had entered silently. "What was that?" one said to the other. "Is that the wonderful chicken dish of which we have heard wonders?" "Chicken… tikka… ma…sa…la?" the other sounded out carefully, and then with more confidence, as if a hidden part of him recognised the shining significance of this moment. "Chicken tikka masala! We'll have four!"

And so the news spread, and so did the name, and from that unpromising night-time moment, a legend was born.

[wellinghall.livejournal.com]

Oh, that is excellent! :-)