FRODSHAM, INDIA GARDEN - More Slurry than Curry

You’d be forgiven for thinking that, with three curry houses in proximity to one another, each would strive to outdo the next in terms of providing an exemplary Indian dining experience. Sadly, that isn’t the case. India Garden, a stalwart of Frodsham high street, can best be described as the worst of a fairly mediocre bunch – although, granted, the next door Naga has improved dramatically of late – so I really do not understand why it is far and away the most popular. 

LIME AFTER TIME

We arrived on a busy Friday and were swiftly furnished with wine, spicy poppadoms and extraordinarily chunky lime pickle – so far, so pleasing. The arrival of the starters, however, swiftly augured disappointment of the highest order. My mixed starter comprised the most flaccid sheek kebab imaginable. It was like a mouthful of ashes, disintegrating unbidden like a petrified limb.

ASHES TO ASHES

The chicken tikka was as dry as bone, obviously cooked well in advance and microwaved with such vigour as to drain every last ounce of moisture. Even the bhaji was nothing to write home about. It takes some doing to mess up an onion bhaji to the point of divesting it entirely of its crunch. The Mrs’s lamb tikka was marginally better, but again had a precooked-and-reheated element about it.

MIXED KE-BAD

Things improved a little upon the advent of the main courses. A house special of lamb kulchi – which didn’t have any kind of description on the menu – was quite nice. There was a fair amount of lamb and, in fairness, what was there was decent. But it was the sundries that let it down. The garlic naan was fresh off the shelf of the Morrison’s opposite or, at least, that’s how it tasted; a more piss poor example of the breadstuff you’d struggle to find – burnt in places with the consistency of cardboard.

KULCHI SHOCK

I have had some shit naans in my day but this one took the unleavened cake. The fact that our bill, when it arrived, was so woefully incorrect that I could make neither head nor tail of it (one of those illegibly-scrawled ones) said it all really.

IN THE MAIN

I hadn’t been to the India Garden in ages, due to having had the exact same experience as described above, on a previous visit. At least it’s consistent – I have to give it that. But the people of Frodsham clearly like it, and that almost makes me wonder if it’s actually me who’s at fault here. So, if you live in or around Frodsham, and the worst mixed kebabs in the world float your boat, by all means give this place a try.

Food: ✓

Service: ✓✓✓

Ambiance: ✓✓✓

Value: ✓✓

Website: Doesn't have one

Phone: 01928 730041

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FRODSHAM, HELTER SKELTER - A Crying Frod-shame

Apparently it's a real effort to fill an upstairs restaurant. For starters, folk can't have a shufty or a nose when they're ambling past on other affairs. Out of sight, out of mind. No such bother at this joint. Helter Skelter (formerly Oswald's) is Frodsham's self-proclaimed 'gem of a first floor restaurant', a loftily-positioned stalwart that proves location need not be an impediment to success. This is one severely popular place, operated by the same lot in charge of the busy boozer beneath, whose denizens you weave through en route to the upstairs eatery. 

The restaurant's decor lends a new definition to the term 'hotch-potch'. Mismatched would be an understatement. Can't-make-its-mind-up might be another. And, as you settle yourself beneath the manifold wall art straight off the shelves of B&M Bargains, you do kind of wonder what they were thinking. Not that there is anything wrong with the wares of B&M Bargains. I'm often down there amassing armfuls of ridiculously cheap pasta sauce. And the stuff they have for the garden is ace. Rakes, spades, hoes, trellises - all at a fraction of the cost of the better-known outlets. 

WALL ART: OWL-FUL?

They are, in fact, moving into Chester Forum, set to occupy the long-vacated TJ Hughes unit. Should breathe a bit of life into that dilapidated quarter whose endless empty shops are rather redolent of a mouth missing most of its teeth. 

We landed at Helter Skelter one Thursday evening, wrung out from the rigours of a riotously stressful week. It was alarmingly heaving for a week night; full of business-types partaking of solitary sustenance with noggins buried in books and in phones. We eschewed the steak-and-wine offers and plumped for the A la carte, which changes fairly frequently but always incorporates dependable staples of the ilk of pork belly, rump of lamb and fillet of seabass. Now, I've had a few scrans at this establishment over the last couple of years. The fayre has generally been of a decent standard, and the value spot on. A three course meal for two replete with zesty Sauvignon sets you back around £65. Can't really argue, generally speaking. But, wallet-pleasing prices aside, there was something generally lacking on this visit in terms of food quality. 

BLAND PUDDING AND POT-HATEFUL-CAKE

A starter of Bury black pudding proved one of the most uninspiring, tasteless offerings I've had in a fair while. The menu effusively detailed its accompanying blandishments - crispy potato cake, rich Stilton sauce - but it was thoroughly bland. Quite how they managed to wring every ounce of flavour from that Bury delicacy blows the mind. Accompanying potato cake constituted a rather soggy mush entirely inundated by a moat of sauce that seemingly lacked its eponymous component. Moreover, the colour of the dish - a rather swarthy hue - did little to enhance its appeal. 

PALADIN PORKER

Still, you can't go wrong with a main course of pork belly. Pork's the new beef. It's enjoyed a singular resurgence of late. A porcine revival. Fair dues to the pig in its unswerving ability to produce innumerable pink and salty delights on which to feast the eyes and sate the hunger. What would we do without it? But this pork belly was a tad under par. It was burnt a touch. Not carbonised, but a bit blacker in places than it ought to have been. The lumpy sauce which engulfed it - purportedly sage and chorizo - tasted of neither. 

In fact, there was something of the school dinner about the whole. You could be forgiven for thinking that each constituent element - pork, fat chips, green beans, carrots - had been splattered onto the plate by means of a ladle, as dispensed by a beefy sourpuss in a hairnet. The only saving grace was the £13 price tag but, for the sake of being stung for an extra couple of quid, I'd rather have had something decent. To stave off further disappointment, I didn't bother with a dessert. 

NOT BELLY GOOD

You can't help but think that Helter Skelter seems to be resting on its laurels. And, in a way, I can almost understand that. There isn't a great deal of competition, locally, for the position of pre-eminent small-town bistro (save perhaps for the more formal Old Hall on the high street). And, as such, Helter Skelter has something of a monopoly. It exists in a microcosmic part of the world that's criminally starved of mid- to high-end eateries. But there's no denying the place has a rapt audience. It's always abuzz. People like it. They know what to expect. It won't be changing anything soon, that's for sure. In the past, though, its offering has been pretty reliable. It's just a shame that, on this occasion, it fell so short of its former standards. I'd probably give it another shot. One day. But that day may be a long time coming.

Food: ✓✓

Service: ✓✓✓

Ambiance: ✓✓

Value: ✓✓✓

Website: http://www.helter-skelter.co.uk
Phone number: 01928 713883

Tip: Tastecard & Hi Life Diner's Card accepted Sun-Thurs

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