Clay’s Hyderabadi Kitchen Competition: the results!

I’m delighted to announce the results of the Edible Reading competition in conjunction with Clay’s Hyderabadi Kitchen. One of these days I’ll do something like a simple prize draw, but I do like making people work for it and flex their creative muscles, and this competition was no exception. I asked entrants to describe their ideal three course Reading meal in 200 words or less, with each course coming from a different restaurant.

My competition postbag was as eclectic a group of dishes as Reading has restaurants or I have readers, and the whole thing made me inordinately proud of both Reading and my readers. From Thames Lido to Cafe Rouge, from l’Ortolan to Alto Lounge, all gastronomic life seemed to be covered. I was hugely grateful to be spared an agonising decision and the inimitable Adam Koszary has stepped up to do the honours. He’s done a truly marvellous job. I do like to tax my judges’ patience, so before I announce the winners I also asked Adam to (drop to the floor and) give me 200 words on his ideal Reading three course meal. Here’s what Adam came up with:

I would never win the competition I’m judging.

I have been disappointed by too many undercooked, overpriced brownies, and so I eat two course meals like it’s a religion. I’m also terrible at describing food, and my tastes often veer to the meat and potato.

But here goes.

If I had money in my pocket and three courses to spend it on, my first course would be I Love Paella’s Patatas Bravas. Yes, they’re simple, but they’re absolutely lush. I made my parents try them. I’ve tried to make the same sauce at home and failed miserably. My partner and I genuinely reminisce about eating them.

For the main I had a hard time deciding between Bakery House’s humble shawarma and Papa Gee’s Sofia Loren pizza, but if you turned the thumbscrews I would opt for the latter. It’s better than any pizza I’ve had in Italy. Their meat tastes like it’s fresh from some hoary Italian mountain man’s pig, the sauce from an Italian matriarch’s pot. It’s all chili and sausage and fun in the mouth.

I don’t eat desserts so I’d have a Magnum from Cemetery Junction Co-Op on the way home.

Job done.

Personally, I think Adam’s meal sounds pretty good to me: I must get him to come out on duty with me some time. Anyway, without further ado, here are the winner and our two runners-up, along with Adam’s comments. Roll the tape!

WINNER: Graeme Fancourt

A perfect food crawl around Reading on a hot summer’s evening would have to begin at House of Flavours. While we exhale the woes of the day and the hopes of the evening ahead, I’d be enjoying the Adraki lamb chops; a perfect start of crisp fat and tender meat that’s infused with ginger spice and all things nice. And I’d have to do my best not to order it twice.

We’d then have an excitable wander round the corner to the Lyndie where I’d order their just-creamy and just-salty-enough pan-fried brill in lobster sauce. More than any other dish in Reading’s restaurants this is the one, for me, that most closes the gap between the A4 and the ocean.

Mainly to stop me boring everyone about the samphire, we’d leave the Lyndie and wander across to Pepe Sale. We make up for the cheap Lyndie Chardonnay by ordering a bottle of the Moscato, and I’d get my ice cream fix from the cassata fragola. The liquor-soaked sponge cake is just filling enough after the light fish dish to be the perfect end to the evening while we polish off the Moscato and plan our Autumn food crawl.

Adam says: I admire people who can write about food. When I try and do it, my brain can only reach for the words ‘lush’, or ‘alright’. In this competition, then, I was on the lookout for writing which would not only make me imagine the meal on the plate, but also make me want to stuff my face with it.

This entry certainly managed that.

I want that lamb chop. I want that tender meat in my mouth, and I want that crisp fat on my lips. My god.

I also had a slight heartburst at the description of the excitable wander around the corner to the Lyndie – a wander I’ve done many times. The patient wait at the pedestrian crossing, with the beckoning shining windows of the Lyndie across the IDR, feels almost like the final trial before the prize of good food and Yakima Red.

It’s also obvious that the cassata fragola has been chosen logically as ‘just filling enough’, and I get the impression that this writer has thought sensibly about the logistics of a Reading-wide three-course journey. It honestly makes me want to polish off a Moscato and bumble merrily off home.

FIRST RUNNER-UP: Ben Thomas

Fareham Drive Shopping Precinct may look like the set of This is England but it harbours one of Reading’s great restaurants – Himalaya Momo House. Amongst their many knockout dishes is the unmatched aloo papri chaat. This chilled delight incorporates chickpeas, potato, and starchy wafers, but manages to avoid stodginess, as cooling yoghurt and astringent tamarind add the lift needed to make this a perfect balance of spicy, sour, and fresh.

Picking the main was tough, but I couldn’t drag myself away from Thai Corner’s exquisite rendition of my favourite meal – beef massaman. This dish is a product of the influence of Islamic traders on Thai cuisine, and the darker, earthier tones that introduces wrestle with the tropically aromatic base of the traditional Thai curry, and both benefit as a result. Add some coconut rice, and that’s my death row meal right there.

I often skip desert, but if I’m visiting Côte, I’ll leave room for a praline crêpe. Caramelised banana is a textural experience of the first order, and the rest is self-explanatory. If it were possible to eat this after an aloo papri chaat and beef massaman, then I’d be a happy man indeed.

Adam says: This one very nearly won it for me.

What I enjoyed about it is what’s sprinkled on top. The three words ‘This is England’ immediately placed Fareham Drive Shopping Precinct for me, and I love that a culinary jewel can still shine even in the most Grimsby-like of places. I also bloody love the use of ‘astringent’ as well. I admire the audacity of it.

The other thing which put this entry ahead is the historic context. Food is often more than food – it is culture and history. Just as my home’s regional dish of faggots will tell you a lot about the Black Country, I love finding out what other dishes say about where they’re from, and I can just imagine the melding of cultures and cuisines on the silk road. The praline crêpe is self-explanatory.

SECOND RUNNER-UP: Tara Pritchard

I’d begin with the Gobi 65 from Chennai Dosa (sadly closed). Perfectly cooked, crisp florets of cauliflower, bright with spice and bursting with flavour. Perfect way to wake your tastebuds at the beginning of a meal.

Moving onto the baghare baigan from Clay’s: two plumb baby aubergine resting beneath a rich and yet surprising light peanut sauce. This restaurant can pull off the alchemy of blending spices into a perfectly balanced melody and yet still allowing each flavour to sing alone. Paired with fluffy, delicately scented basmati rice it was a dish that hushed conversation as the first taste was savoured. I’m not vegetarian; but finding a vegetable dish that could easily hold its own against the more carnivorous elements of the menu was a delightful surprise.

To finish, I’ll be dragging you to the Griffin for their salted caramel sundae. Sticky and gooey with just enough salt to cut through the sweetness. It’s a guilty pleasure and once, when a friend stepped away from the table to take a work call, I managed to eat two. In my defence, it was a hot day and the ice cream was melting. Any one of you would have done the same!

Adam says: Choosing the second runner-up was also tricky. I’d hoped someone would have taken a pilgrimage of all the Greggs in the town centre, sampling a sausage roll at each one. One entry came close, but I don’t consider their choice of third course – 2009-grade ketamine – as food.

Maybe as seasoning.

As it is, we have this journey from a defunct Chennai Dosa through to baghare baigan and finishing in the Griffin. I appreciated the bittersweet memory of a meal which can never be had again, and the image of two plump baby aubergines fighting the corner for veganism. The cherry on top, however, was the great sundae robbery. I’ve often considered the theft of an absentee fellow diner’s food, and I applaud the audacity of someone who says fuck it and does it.

Huge congratulations to the winner and runners-up. Graeme wins a three course meal for two with a a bottle of house red, or a bottle of house white, or four pints of mango beer (and the mango beer would be a pretty decent prize all on its own). As for Ben and Tara, Clay’s has generously offered a runner-up prize of a portion of free kodi chips if you go for a meal there – trust me, that too is a pretty decent prize. Thanks to everybody who took part, and I’ll do my best to rustle up another competition for you in due course.

Oh, and since literally nobody asked, I also jotted together 200 words on my ideal three course Reading meal, inspired by what Adam said about bittersweet memories. What better way to finish the piece but on a bit of a downer? Exactly…

This is my gastronomic Ghost Of Christmas Past, the three course meal I most miss about Reading, the one I can no longer enjoy.

It begins with the sukuti at Namaste Kitchen. Small punchy cubes of mutton, oh-so-slightly chewy with perfectly crispy fat. The plate comes with a few cocktail sticks and you know you must share, but you wish you didn’t have to. Halfway through, you wonder why pubs don’t serve snacks like this, so perfect with a beer. Except one used to, and then it stopped.

Then you move on to Dolce Vita’s saltimbocca – slender, tender veal with sage, wrapped in Parma ham and cooked just as much as it needs to be, with a sauce you daydream about for days. No longer available, of course. Cause of death: greedy landlord, as so often.

Finally, Tutti Frutti’s smoothly complex peach and amaretto ice cream. You should eat it late in the evening, in the old part of the station (the bit with a soul) watching the workers in their high-vis jackets and people home from their London train, merry or tired. I wish I’d known, the last time I had it, that it was the last time.

Right, that’s enough of that gloom. For every place that closes, another new place opens, so tune in next week for a brand new review of one of Reading’s newest contenders. You might like this one.

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Competition: Clay’s Hyderabadi Kitchen

I’m delighted to announce that the third ever ER readers’ competition is in partnership with Clay’s Hyderabadi Kitchen.

I first heard about Clay’s at the start of April when the owners contacted me with some information about the restaurant, and from that very first mail I sensed a real passion about food and excitement about their project. The owners, a married couple, had put everything into their dream of opening a restaurant and they told me all about their dishes, their background and what they felt they could offer to Reading’s food scene. I can offer you a certain amount of help, I said, but if I do more than that you’ll know who I am, and then I won’t be able to review you. So I gave them some general pointers about Twitter, who to talk to for more assistance and ideas and so on, but we agreed that we’d keep it arms length. Keep in touch, I said.

I was happy with that, because I sensed that Clay’s would be the kind of place any restaurant reviewer would want to visit on duty. Right from the off I had an inkling that it was going to be one of the most exciting restaurants to hit Reading in as long as I can remember, promising a specific kind of Indian regional cuisine you couldn’t get anywhere else. Further emails only confirmed my suspicions, from the degree of care that had gone into the menu to other details throughout: the wines, the beers, the spirits, the crockery, the cutlery, the glasses. In fact one of the beers on offer – the Hyderabadi IPA from West Berkshire – is the result of a meeting between Clay’s and the brewery which was arranged by my beer-loving friend Tim (nice work, Tim).

So far, so good. I’d done my bit while preserving my anonymity. What could go wrong? Here’s what: a couple of people blew my cover to Clay’s. It’s my own fault, really: in that first mail from Clay’s the owner told me that she had been reading the blog for some time and had taken to eating in Bakery House and the sadly-missed Namaste Kitchen while taking a break from the building work. Namaste Kitchen hosted the first Edible Reading readers’ lunch, which meant that the legendary Kamal knew my identity. And despite being sworn to secrecy he managed to give my details away, possibly after a couple of his favourite single malts. A second lapse at Blue Collar from another set of loose lips while waiting in line for my chicken wrap from Georgian Feast (another recommendation of mine), and the damage was done.

Oh well. It’s probably for the best, because the more I exchanged emails with the owners, the more I liked them and the more I wanted them to do well. Could I really give an unbiased review to a restaurant when I knew just how much they had poured into the place? This is the problem with getting too close: even if I managed to stay anonymous, I still probably couldn’t claim to be completely impartial. So, as it happens, I think the food at Clay’s is fantastic. I’ve been a few times – once before they opened, to finally meet the owners properly, and twice since opening day. I took my family (who revere Royal Tandoori) to Clay’s on a Saturday night, and they raved about the place.

Everything I’ve had there had been extraordinary , whether it’s the kodi chips (thin, spiced, battered slices of chicken – the best bar snacks in Reading for my money), the delicate discs of paneer, the miniature dosa with their buttery crunch and soft, spiced filling or the beautifully perfumed rice of the biryani.

That’s before we get on to the tilapia fillets with rich, reduced, roasted onion, star anise and chilli, or the red chicken curry with a hot, complex, hugely satisfying sauce.

And, unlike most Indian restaurants in Reading I can think of, there are just two desserts both of which justify you leaving a little space. One is a sweet dessert with onions which is worth trying for novelty value alone. But the second – my personal favourite, this – is double ka metha, a soft square of bread soaked with subtle sweetness, a dish which manages to be the perfect light, clean way to end a meal. But you can take that opinion with a pinch of salt, because during their journey to becoming a restaurant I find I started to feel invested in that journey (and, for full disclosure, I didn’t pay for all my visits there). Never mind – this isn’t a review, and you can take from it what you like.

What I did get in return for my help, apart from a guided tour through some of the highlights of the menu, was a treat for one of you. The winner of this ER competition will get a three course meal for two people – a starter, main and dessert apiece – along with either a couple of pints each (of mango beer or Hyderabadi IPA) or a bottle of house wine (white, red or rosé) to share.

All you have to do is this: describe your favourite Reading three course meal in 200 words or less. The only catch is that the starter, the main course and the dessert all have to be from different Reading restaurants. Email your entry to me – ediblereading@gmail.com – by 11.30am on Friday 20th July.

As regular readers will know, I may not be completely impartial about Clay’s, but I’m definitely impartial about reader competitions. So, as always, I’ve enlisted somebody far more qualified than me to judge the competition and pick the winning entry. This time it’s Adam Koszary. You might know Adam as the digital lead for MERL and Reading Museum, it’s more likely that you know him for that Tweet about the sheep that went crazy ape bonkers. But personally, I prefer to think of him as the chap who wrote this gorgeous love letter to the Ding. However you cut it, he’s going to be a superb judge and I’m really pleased to have him on board.

Only one entry per person and – as always – the usual terms and conditions apply. Adam’s decision is final, no correspondence will be entered into, no bribes will be accepted and you don’t get any extra points for deliberately including either a mutton dish or the words “absolute unit”, so don’t even try. The very best of luck to all of you, thanks to both Clay’s and Adam for making this happen and I’m looking forward to announcing the winner really soon.

Honest Burgers Competition: the results!

Did everyone have a good Christmas? I hope so, whether you spent it in or out, with your nearest and dearest, with your partner or on your own. If you were out I hope you were lovely to whoever looked after you, if you were in I hope people helped with the washing up and if you were at someone else’s house, well, I hope you helped with the washing up. I hope you’re replete from mince pies, or Christmas pudding, or mint Matchmakers (now we’re talking – can’t be doing with dried fruit myself) or a Terry’s Chocolate Orange, even if they’re far smaller than they used to be.

No restaurant review from me today – it’s difficult to imagine eating out in the foreseeable future, although I’m sure I’ll be back on duty early in the New Year – but fortunately one person who was busy over the festive period was John Luther. Not only was he soaking up the plaudits on Christmas Day, with South Street Arts Centre being named the best thing about Reading by Explore Reading, but on Boxing Day he very kindly sat down to judge the Edible Reading Honest Burgers competition.

I was bowled over by the quality and quantity of responses we got. From entries celebrating Reading F.C. to the Nag’s Head, complaining about the traffic on Cow Lane or celebrating our past and present the range of entries was really impressive. Maybe Two Rivers Press should consider a book of Reading haiku, because from ER readers alone I read entries celebrating the much missed doughnut stand on Broad Street, the 17 bus route and the whiff of ganja outside Reading Minster (which, uncannily, I sniffed earlier this week).

I’m so relieved I didn’t have to judge the competition, but fortunately for me John stepped up and did an absolutely sterling job. He even described the experience for me, appropriately in haiku form:

Judging these haiku
With all their well-seasoned words
Has been such a thrill

Anyway, without any further ado here are the ten winning entries, along with John’s comments.

WINNER 1: Madeleine Adams

Cheeselogs and Elvis
The Turtle and After Dark
Our town (not city)

John says: This one has a nice rhythm and I liked the use of “our” in the final line, bringing writer and reader together.

WINNER 2: Laura Balogh

Summer’s haze long gone,
Oxford Road bleak winter sun,
Nag’s warm lights invite.

John says: This one is unashamedly “Poetic” with a capital P, but has such a great final line. The line seems to exude the warmth it talks of.

WINNER 3: Greg Davies

Delightful Reading
A tall, stylish Elvis sings
about some biscuits

John says: It’s very difficult to be playful in so few words, but this charmingly pulled it off. It connected Reading’s past and present, whilst making me smile.

WINNER 4: Katherine Findlay

Town, not a city
Famous for beer, bulbs, biscuits
Better than you think

John says: This one just had a precision that I liked. Matter-of-fact and concise.

WINNER 5: Sam Houlden

The Nag’s fire burning
Young and old, welcome and warm
This place feels like home

John says: Although seemingly about the Nags Head (again!) it seemed to me that this is about Reading as a whole too, and what can be more important about a town than calling it home?

WINNER 6: James Menhenitt

Murty, Hunt, Harper
Kits, Little, Sidders and Doyle
One hundred and six

John says: For any RFC fan this will bring back great memories. The last line tells the story of a whole season in five syllables.

WINNER 7: James Parkin

Invasion of them,
Music, Mud, Mayhem and Beer,
Reading Rocks each year

John says: We can’t avoid the Reading Festival and this Haiku summed up the madness really well, with great use of alliteration and even a rhyme (the only entry that did).

WINNER 8: Donna Sibley

Are You Listening?
Jelly, giants, Nags, on Thames
Nomad, Lido, friends

John says: Ostensibly a list, but a great list! All very contemporary and unique to Reading (apart from the Thames!). Iconic community organisations, festivals, events and businesses that lead nicely into the final “friends”, including us all.

WINNER 9: Ian Sutherland

Reading on the Thames
computers are the future
3 Bs are the past

John says: This is another one that was amazingly economical with its words, summing up the past and present of Reading’s commerce very effectively.

WINNER 10: Janine Turner

The lion stands still
Surrounded by ruins, sun
Setting, drink in hand

John says: This feels really rich as three time zones play out within the three lines – the ruins (Medieval) surrounding the lion (Victorian) and then the writer (or reader?) surveying the scene (with a drink) in the here and now. Clever.

Congratulations to all the winners! I’ll be in touch with all ten of you about how to claim your prize. And commiserations to anybody who entered and didn’t win – the standard really was incredibly high.

All that remains is for me to wish you all a very Happy New Year. I’ll be back in 2018 with visits to all sorts of interesting places – stay tuned to find out where…

Competition: Honest Burgers

Regular readers might remember that back in August I ran my first ever readers’ competition in association with new kid on the block Pho. They contacted me in the run up to opening their Reading restaurant, initially asking if I wanted to go in and review them based on a comped meal. I said no, and instead we ran a competition together judged by Claire, the editor of Explore Reading. It all went swimmingly, and ER reader Aden had by all accounts a very nice meal there with three guests of his choosing. I’ve still not been on duty (I plan to turn up when they least expect it) but the nice thing about Reading is that there’s more access to reviews than ever before, so you can see perspectives on Pho here, here and here: a mixture of comped reviews and those where the writer paid her way, so you can decide which is more to your taste.

Anyway, Honest Burgers contacted me recently with a similar offer, and again I said that I couldn’t take them up on a comped meal. What became clear though, from my correspondence with them, was that they have a commitment to Reading’s independent scene unlike most chains I know of: their Reading branch, only the second outside London, will serve a special burger incorporating Barkham Blue from just down the road and roasted red pepper chutney from Reading’s very own Nomad Bakery. There will also be a special pale ale from nearby Wild Weather Ales which can only be found in the Reading branch and selected local pubs (I get the impression they rather enjoyed the process of researching it, and became quite a fan of the Nag’s Head into the bargain: this lovely piece by Wild Weather gives you some idea). Not only that, but Honest have also shown an interest in Reading’s independent websites, giving this great interview to Explore Reading in the run-up to them opening on Monday 18th December.

Anyway, more importantly they’ve also decided to team up with me to give ten readers the chance to win a pair of the Reading special burgers and a can of the Reading exclusive King St Pale from Wild Weather. Not a bad Christmas present, eh? Now, I like to make people get creative and work a little for competition prizes rather than just do a prize draw, so here’s what you need to do to win:

I want you to send me a haiku about Reading – to ediblereading@gmail.com – by 11.30am on Friday 22nd December.

Haiku are dead simple: they just have to have five syllables in the first line, seven syllables in the second line and five syllables in the third and final line. They don’t have to rhyme or anything, and they just need to capture a moment or something about Reading, whether it’s the grand majesty of the Maiwand Lion, the frustration of being stuck in the traffic on the IDR for the four thousandth time, the buzz and bustle of the Oxford Road or the joy of spotting Reading Elvis in town waving his LP. I’m looking forward to seeing what you come up with, and with ten prizes up for grabs your odds have to be pretty good, right? And really, don’t be shy. It’s just a bit of festive fun: nobody is expecting you to channel Basho or capture a sense of perfect Zen stillness in Caversham, I promise.

As usual an excellent competition prize requires an excellent judge and I’m delighted to say that John Luther of South Street has agreed to step in and judge this one. As the man responsible for programming at South Street, bringing the best and most innovative theatre, live music and comedy to Reading, John’s artistic credentials are second to none and I can’t think of anyone better to pick the prizewinning haiku (and, if you win and can’t decide who to take with you, I hear he’s really keen on trying the new burger: just saying).

Only one entry per person, but otherwise the usual terms and conditions apply: the judge’s decision is final, no correspondence will be entered into, the price of your burger can go up as well as down and if you enter after the deadline your entry won’t count but you may still be charged. Other restaurant bloggers are available. Thanks again to Honest for working with me on this. I really hope you give this a go in the run up to Christmas – how long can it take to write seventeen syllables? – and wish you the best of luck.

The Edible Reading Pho Competition: the results!

When I announced the first ever ER competition a few weeks back I couldn’t have anticipated the level of response – loads of you took part, sending me miniature essays about your favourite Reading food experiences.

And there was a real range – meals with family, meals with friends, dates and solo experiences (at least one after a trip to the pub, but more of that later). Some people mourned restaurants no longer with us, some talked about the power restaurants can have to win over reluctant parents. But the thing that struck me most was that many of you talked about how you had found your “place” after moving to Reading – whether that’s somewhere to eat as a vegetarian, eat with your family or find a little taste of back home. Food, friends, family and community: all so important, and reading the entries I felt very proud – of Reading and of all the people who read ER.

I’m really relieved that I didn’t have the difficult job of judging this competition and I don’t envy Claire, editor of Explore Reading, who kindly sifted through all the entries (without Strictly paddles, but maybe next time). I was determined not to let Claire off the hook though, so before I announce the winners I also asked Claire to give me 200 words on her favourite Reading food experience. Here it is:

My favourite Reading food experience occurred only a short while after I moved back to town. My visiting brother was convinced I was mad not to move to London. Determined to persuade him, and myself, otherwise, we spent the day at Inside Reading Prison, picked up beers at Grumpy Goat and drank at The Allied Arms. After, on the strength of an Edible Reading review, we wandered to The Horn. It was dark, there was football on, ordering at the bar became confusing. We were sceptical.

Then the chicken paella arrived. Steaming, squidgy, wet. Crunchy bits gleamed in the light. Chicken fell apart on the fork. I scraped at the bottom of the pan.

We ate in a reverential silence in the pub’s tiny, sun-dappled terrace. A grunting noise came from across the table. My brother shook his head: “This. Is. So. Good,” he said, “I should visit more.”

It was one of those days, and one of those dishes, that made me feel incredibly proud of Reading. And it’s where the bud of an idea for Explore Reading first popped into my head. I love that paella, but I also love I Love Paella for helping me find that.

Right then, on to the winners and the honourable mentions (try hard to imagine a really impressive drum roll at this point):

WINNER: Mya Lacarte, Aden Pearce

My favourite Reading food experience? That’s not easy, as I’ve had 98% of my meals in the last fifteen years there. Loads stick in the mind, but Mya wins out.

Mainly I remember laughing. A lot. It was the first time I kind of knew that the food was better than my palate could keep up with, and it ran rings round it. There’s where I realised something as mundane as a Scotch egg could be that tasty. I had pigeon breast that had more life than the bird could have seen when it still had its own wings. It was ridiculous.

It was our first anniversary and we’d never had that much care taken of us before. It may sound a bit pathetic but we really hadn’t. The staff were there when we needed them, gone when we didn’t. I wore a red leather jacket and they didn’t even laugh at me. It’s the little touches that made it.

I may have had better food, or better service, since. But that was the one for me. That’s when I realised what all the fuss was about food. It had been good before, but it was never this much fun…

Claire says: Each of these pieces shows some impressive writing and a real love of eating out in Reading. But for me, this entry picks up first prize because it beautifully captures the moment when your favourite dining experience can cause your whole world to turn.

This piece is full of joy: for eating out, for good food, for the power of those little touches. It spotlights everything I love about dining out and reminds me of my own first tentative dips into the food world. Afterwards you see things differently and you can’t wait to start putting your palate through its paces.

As well as all that, it succinctly remembers a sadly-departed Reading legend, Mya Lacarte. A very worthy winner.

HONOURABLE MENTION: Chennai Dosa, Charlotte Fergus

One night in May 2016 my partner and I invited our friends to try Chennai Dosa, our favourite restaurant in Reading. They had never tried dosa, so we decided to go for something fairly basic: the family dosa. After the waiters murmured amongst themselves that we were all crazy they agreed to cook it for us, and the 5 of us waited patiently for our meal to arrive. During this time a waiter brought over an extra table to add length for what was to come: a 2m long dosa stocked full of potato masala. With discerning looks from other customers (and some in complete awe) we proceeded to completely annihilate our meal, sharing and tearing with our hands and dipping into the fragrant chutneys accompanying the gargantuan dish. The crispy, ghee fried dosa was perfect, and the masala syncopated the meal with jazzy bursts of tomato spice. I remember feeling so happy to be with my friends, sharing a lovely meal and being content with our exciting lives full of love and adventure. The next day the real reason for my appetite emerged. I was carrying our baby Mabel, born 1st Jan 2017.

Claire says: I feel very warmly towards this entry, and not just because of its powerful closing line. The writer presents their food experience as a performance piece and the entry radiates with movement, atmosphere and excitement. I feel like a fly on the wall, watching the group tear into their dinner and, crucially, I want to go and tackle that family dosa with my friends.

HONOURABLE MENTION: Mr Cod, Matt Farrall

I had heard the fable of this strange spicy hybrid fish ‘n’ chip meal that would leave a memorable taste in the mouth and the burn of a Viking funeral in other parts, sometime before I first dare try it.

It must have been one in the morning one night when I stumbled into Mr Cod on Whitley Street absolutely famished after some half-marathon drinking.

I think it was £4.99 then and it came with a choice of cherry or apple pie or drink and a special dangerous looking pot of rude, red thick chilli sauce.

It looked like fairly normal fish ‘n’ chips in a beige polystyrene container although the fish did have a strange reddy/orange glowing hue.

The salty, spicy batter and tangy taste along with potent sweet thick chilli really was great after a drink with a nice portion of chips. It wasn’t like anything I had before and the fish was fine but hard to identify. All was well until the morning when my breath, head and stomach began to disagree. When you have a Mr Cod masala fish meal there is no return to normality – you won’t forget it.

Claire says: Another entry on a distinctly Reading restaurant, but this time of a very different kind. The writing is very funny; I chuckled out loud more than once. I’m not quite sold that I should go and try the dish, but above all, this tale of the unforgettable nature of Mr Cod’s masala fish shows that food doesn’t have to be fancy or expensive to be utterly memorable. As someone who once had an almost spiritual encounter with a 50p bowl of Sichuan sesame noodles, I am in total agreement.

HONOURABLE MENTION: Mission Burrito, Victoria Keitel

“Do you really want the habanero salsa? It’s spicy.”

The lady assembling my food at Mission Burrito was hesitant. What she wasn’t aware of was that the salsa, as hot as it is for most British palates, doesn’t come close to the tear-inducing heat of the ones in San Francisco, home of the Mission neighbourhood that Mission Burrito emulates.

“Yes, please.”

A dab was applied.

“More, please.”

Wrapped in foil, the burrito was placed inside a plastic basket. A mandarina Jarritos and a side of tortilla crisps finished it off.

Mission Burrito operates as a quasi-embassy for this Californian. The décor is cheerful with photographs of established Mission taquerias alongside artwork inspired by the city’s public transport system: the Muni. The menu is presented in orange and black, the local Giants baseball team’s colours. These little touches, perhaps unnoticed by most, make the experience of eating homier.

As for the food, Mission Burrito produces some of the most authentic flavours of Californian Mexican food in the UK. The produce is fresh and includes necessities like tomatillos and a variety of chilies to get the correct profile. While being a chain, it reliably produces CalMex food at a reasonable price.

Claire says: Reading often gets sneered at for our many chain restaurants. This entry proves chains aren’t automatically a bad thing. Again, it shows good writing, with a great storytelling narrative which kept me hooked. Overall, I’m left cheered that even the humble production line process at Mission Burrito can trigger that soothing taste of home.

Congratulations to Aden, who wins a three course meal for four people at Pho (go on, wear your red leather jacket, I dare you) and thank you to everybody who took part in the competition. Fingers crossed it turns out to be the first of many. In the meantime, I’ll see you all back here on Friday for a brand new review. You might well be interested in this one: it’s definitely my favourite Reading food experience of the last few months.