Latest news with #IndianRestaurant
Yahoo
10-08-2025
- Yahoo
'Dine and dash' group flee restaurant without paying £200 bill
An Indian restaurant in Northampton accused four guests of a £200 'dine and dash' on August 5. CCTV footage showed the group leaving Saffron without paying after ordering food and drinks worth £197.30. The owners said the incident hit takings hard during a quiet Monday night. Northamptonshire Police are investigating the theft and urge anyone with information to contact them quoting incident number 25000457718.
BBC News
07-08-2025
- Entertainment
- BBC News
Headlines: 'Balloon Fiesta's special shapes' and 'event outbreak'
Here's our daily pick of stories from across local websites in the West of England, and interesting content from social media. Our pick of local website stories Bristol Live reports that a 44-year-old Indian restaurant - possibly among the oldest in the city - is open day at HorseWorld this weekend has been cancelled after an outbreak of a respiratory disease, Somerset Live anti-social behaviour wardens are returning to the streets of Salisbury, but only until March next year, the Salisbury Journal reports. Our top three from yesterday What to watch on social media The Balloon Fiesta has posted a preview of some of the special shapes set to be seen by many people ahead of the first day of the event in Bristol on Gloucestershire Council has apologised for the traffic problems on the the woman behind the idea for Gloucester's various multicoloured "rainbow streets", has revealed her latest city project.
Daily Mail
12-07-2025
- Daily Mail
‘The food is bright, vivacious and brimming with tang': TOM PARKER BOWLES reviews Mowgli
A spare couple of hours in a sun-drenched Liverpool, and all thoughts turn to lunch. Just for a change. As I wander from the ferry port up towards Castle Street, I'm struck, once again, by the sheer magnificence of the Royal Liver Building, topped by those mighty and mythical Liver Birds. It's always good to be back, especially when it involves eating at Mowgli, a small but immaculate chain of Indian restaurants where the cooking is really rather splendid. It helps that the room, high-ceilinged and elegant, is flooded with natural light, the centre dominated by a vast tree, with birdcage lampshades and verdant ferns tumbling down from wrought-iron balconies. Mowgli was started in Liverpool by Nisha Katona, a barrister turned restaurateur, and is slowly spreading across the land. Good news for us all. And even on a Monday lunch, traditionally the slowest service of the week, the room is busy, which is a sign of things being done just right. The menu, inspired by street food and Indian home cooking, makes me wish I wasn't solo. Still, I make swift work of a bhel puri, that classic Mumbai snack, all crisp gram-flour threads and peanuts, jumbled together with pomegranate seeds and a tangle of herbs. There's discreet sweetness, tart tamarind bite and a gentle chilli burr. 'Angry Bird' sees two fat chicken thighs tandoor-cooked and laden with ginger and garlic. The skin is sticky and fragrant with cumin and coriander, the flesh plumply succulent. A sprightly red cabbage slaw, peppered with mustard seed, adds sharp, vibrant crunch. Then a prawn curry, the best dish of an impressive bunch, with complex spicing and a beautifully judged tamarind acidity. Alongside, a warming, mellow dahl scented with cumin and curry leaf. I know I bang on and on about acidity, but getting the balance right is the thing that turns an average dish into a great one. And at Mowgli they've mastered that art, so the food frolics and gambols across the palate, bright, vivacious and brimming with tang. Meaning you skip rather than trudge out of the door. Throw in slick, swift and smiley service, and eminently reasonable prices (feast for £25!), and you have a truly lovely lunch. A class act, in every way.
The Guardian
05-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
The moment I knew: he pulled me close for my last-ever first kiss
Moe and I met at an obstacle course race in south-western Sydney in 2015 when I was 21. He's a naturally charismatic guy and, while I wasn't immune to his charms, I didn't think of him again until nearly a year later when I saw him on a dating app. I swiped to say hello and he invited me to go rock climbing. I chickened out at the last minute but a few months later Moe joined the same gym as me. We became fast friends, regularly training and trail running together. I was at university at the time, living with my parents and dating someone else. I loved spending time with Moe but didn't register an inkling of romance between us. We slipped easily into a close friendship and were soon having dinner together a few nights a week. As my trust in our friendship deepened, I opened up to Moe about the problems in my relationship. At a dimly lit Indian restaurant in Liverpool on a cool autumn night I poured my heart out. My unhappiness felt like a shameful secret I'd been keeping from everyone, even myself, but I felt no judgment from Moe. I have always had a tendency to get stuck in tricky feelings, becoming frozen by all the ways I could handle a situation. I hate the idea of getting things wrong. That evening Moe was so sage and understanding, all my misguided shame melted away. I could suddenly see a way forward. His ability to help me untangle myself is still one of the things I appreciate most about him. That relationship ended not long afterwards and, while I was adamant Moe and I were strictly platonic, we were training and eating dinner together every day and bought puppies from the same litter. There were raised eyebrows among our friends and family, who assumed we were an item. I was in full-blown denial. I didn't know what anyone was talking about – we were just mates! In early October 2017 we wrapped up training as usual but, when Moe asked me to join him for dinner, his tone was different. The intensity of his voice and the look in his eyes ignited such nervousness in me that I turned his request down. But something had clicked, I knew I was on the precipice of a life-altering moment. I had to sleep on it. The next night, in our sweaty gym clothes, we headed to a local Vietnamese spot. I was twitching with nerves and, as the meal ended, the whole scene started to feel like a romance novel. Out the front I could hardly look Moe in the eye and, as I made a move for my car, he reached out and pulled me close. When he looked at me I knew I was about to have the last first kiss of my life. It was incredible. In a way nothing had changed but at the same time everything had. It was humbling to realise that everything we were was already there, I had just been oblivious to what it could become. By Halloween I knew I'd marry him and our son was born a year later. As I battled through pre- and postnatal depression my default was to disappear into myself. That old shame came knocking again. But as usual Moe was the calming, reassuring presence I needed. When I revealed how unwell I truly was, it was his quiet, steady support that got us all through. We were married in 2020, in an intimate ceremony at Uluru, and two years later made a tree change to Young, Australia's cherry capital, with our son and our border collies, Banjo and Nina. Even now, I still blush thinking about our first kiss. Do you have a romantic realisation you'd like to share? From quiet domestic scenes to dramatic revelations, Guardian Australia wants to hear about the moment you knew you were in love. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian.
The Guardian
05-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
The moment I knew: he pulled me close for my last-ever first kiss
Moe and I met at an obstacle course race in south-western Sydney in 2015 when I was 21. He's a naturally charismatic guy and, while I wasn't immune to his charms, I didn't think of him again until nearly a year later when I saw him on a dating app. I swiped to say hello and he invited me to go rock climbing. I chickened out at the last minute but a few months later Moe joined the same gym as me. We became fast friends, regularly training and trail running together. I was at university at the time, living with my parents and dating someone else. I loved spending time with Moe but didn't register an inkling of romance between us. We slipped easily into a close friendship and were soon having dinner together a few nights a week. As my trust in our friendship deepened, I opened up to Moe about the problems in my relationship. At a dimly lit Indian restaurant in Liverpool on a cool autumn night I poured my heart out. My unhappiness felt like a shameful secret I'd been keeping from everyone, even myself, but I felt no judgment from Moe. I have always had a tendency to get stuck in tricky feelings, becoming frozen by all the ways I could handle a situation. I hate the idea of getting things wrong. That evening Moe was so sage and understanding, all my misguided shame melted away. I could suddenly see a way forward. His ability to help me untangle myself is still one of the things I appreciate most about him. That relationship ended not long afterwards and, while I was adamant Moe and I were strictly platonic, we were training and eating dinner together every day and bought puppies from the same litter. There were raised eyebrows among our friends and family, who assumed we were an item. I was in full-blown denial. I didn't know what anyone was talking about – we were just mates! In early October 2017 we wrapped up training as usual but, when Moe asked me to join him for dinner, his tone was different. The intensity of his voice and the look in his eyes ignited such nervousness in me that I turned his request down. But something had clicked, I knew I was on the precipice of a life-altering moment. I had to sleep on it. The next night, in our sweaty gym clothes, we headed to a local Vietnamese spot. I was twitching with nerves and, as the meal ended, the whole scene started to feel like a romance novel. Out the front I could hardly look Moe in the eye and, as I made a move for my car, he reached out and pulled me close. When he looked at me I knew I was about to have the last first kiss of my life. It was incredible. In a way nothing had changed but at the same time everything had. It was humbling to realise that everything we were was already there, I had just been oblivious to what it could become. By Halloween I knew I'd marry him and our son was born a year later. As I battled through pre- and postnatal depression my default was to disappear into myself. That old shame came knocking again. But as usual Moe was the calming, reassuring presence I needed. When I revealed how unwell I truly was, it was his quiet, steady support that got us all through. We were married in 2020, in an intimate ceremony at Uluru, and two years later made a tree change to Young, Australia's cherry capital, with our son and our border collies, Banjo and Nina. Even now, I still blush thinking about our first kiss. Do you have a romantic realisation you'd like to share? From quiet domestic scenes to dramatic revelations, Guardian Australia wants to hear about the moment you knew you were in love. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian.
