Is there a link between curry and dementia? I’m almost certain Alzheimer amyloid plaques are partially made of saffron because between the time we decided to go for curry tonight and me sitting down to write this review, I had forgot the following:

a) where Ren lives

 b) which exit I usually take to get back to my house

 c) the name of the place we ate at 2 hours ago.

It’s true.  I had to phone Ren when, disorientated, I found myself in Beddington Heights looking for his street, instead of the appropriate Huntington Hills.  Scary.  When I did eventually orient myself and make it to Ren’s place, he was starved and wasted little time loading up his currymobile and driving out towards Saddleridge.  In Calgary, if you want good curry, look at a community’s name, if it contains the word “ridge” in it, you’re on the right track.  Unless of course you’re talking about Cougar Ridge, which is just full of divorcees.    (matt)

Gee…thanks for the tip matty….now our readers are going to be driving around and around in Discovery Ridge looking for curry.  Be more likely to get harassed and arrested by the cops for being lost in some rich dudes back yard then find a curry.  Guess they could always head to Oak Ridge and hope that you’re having a curry party.  Seriously though readers….Castle, Falcon, and Saddle –Ridges are all Indian food hotspots, and I even think Pine Ridge has a couple places to eat.  (ren)

Saddleridge is about as North and East as you can get. That being said, they’ve probably built a new subdivision in the time it took me to write this sentence and that’s no longer true. The one identifying component of the community is the large lasso/looping circle with shops on the inside of the loop.  It is there, next to an Indian grocer, a halal meat shop and a TD Canada Trust, that you will find Punjabi Sweethouse and Restaurant. At least I think that’s what the restaurant is called. I can’t really remember.  (matt)

Their yellow pages listings are under both Punjabi Sweethouse and Restaurant and also just as Punjabi Sweethouse.  Take your pick.  It’s not like there is a good restaurant called the Punjabi Sweethouse and an evil one called the Punjabi Sweethouse and Restaurant.  And don’t even get me started on the Punjabi Bar and Grill.  I used to always get Joey’s Only and Joey Tomato’s mixed up.  One has tasty, reasonably priced sea food, the other has cute waitresses and over-priced, over-fancy crap. (see Earls) It’s also beside the “Café Arabica” which advertised in side-by-side signs that it was simultaneously “NOW OPEN” and “OPENING SOON”. (ren)

We walked in and could feel our curry senses tingle immediately. This was gonna be good.  Clues:  Punjabi dudes hanging out just for fun.  Septuagenarian grandmother slaving away in the kitchen.  An active sweets counter.  (matt)

It’s never a bad sign when you see a seventy-something man and wife team holding down the kitchen when you’re going for curry.  It’s a pretty crumby sign when you’re partnering up for mountaineering or porno pictionary….but when it comes to curry…you’re in the zone.  This place is the essence of what Matty and I started on this wild and crazy curry journey looking for.  Apparently family run, not flashy, not too pricey, and awesome tasty.  (ren)

We had a seat and were handed a printed menu. A review of the pricing reminded us where we were; Currytown.  Most dishes went for $5.99, some were $6.99 and the odd main went for $7.99.  Most suckers are more than willing to pay $17 for a mediocre dish at the Taj or some other place downtown. But not us. We go to the source, eat for dirt cheap and reap the rewards.  I can’t believe I used the term “suckers”. That’s so Mr. T.  (matt)

I pity the fool who pays $15+ for an entrée, plus rice ($3.00 for plain, $3.50 for saffron) and a couple of naan ($2.50 regular, $3.00 garlic).  Oh wait.  I’ve been that fool a couple of times.  But that’s not where I go when I’m on my own time, that’s for you readers.  When I’m eating for me, I’ll hit a place where you eat for less than $10 per person, get a mountain of food and probably get in some awesome people-watching.  But if you equate fancy with tasty…have at ‘er.  (ren)

 So cheap were the dishes that Ren decided he wanted to order 2. The waitress/owner tried to talk him out of it, suggesting that one would be enough. No up-sell here. Just honest hard working people wanting you to enjoy your meal. In the end, that didn’t stop Ren from ordering a second meal.  He is a fat bastard.   (matt)

It’s funny.  I wasn’t nearly as offended by this as I am when the server tries to downsize our naan order.  That really pisses me off.  I simply explained that I wanted to try both and save some for the next day’s lunch, and she was happy to take my order.  I had the chicken curry and the Malai Kofta.  The chicken curry was authentic and tasty, enough spice to make my nose run…but not to make it bleed.  Plus it was pretty much all chicken thighs rather than the random carcass pieces (mostly ribs and spines) that you get with most “authentic” northeast Calgary curries.  The malai kofta was a bit strange.  The sauce was tasty.  No complaints here, rich and creamy.  The kofta themselves were just a little odd.  They were a bit more puffy and mushy than usual.  Some places they’re too crisp…like falafel balls, but these were waaaay too far the other extreme.  It was like when you’ve left your Corn Pops in the milk too long and they’ve blown up from marble size to golf ball size.    Tasty…just strangely empty and unsubstantial.  (ren)

I went with Shahi Paneer while Ren had chicken curry and Malai Kofta. All dishes come with plenty of naan. And when we say plenty, we mean to say that the supply of naan could replace the World Food Program.  Nothing worse than being hosed on naan. Really, it costs 5 cents to make. Give me my share. The staff at Punjabi Sweethouse and Restaurant clearly understand this.  At least I think that’s what the place is called.  I don’t really know.

The Shahi Paneer is simply phenomenal.   Drop what you’re doing right now and go and get some.  No. Wait. Finish reading the review. Then go.  The dish is so good, I found myself recommending it to patients the next day during clinical rounds at work.  Sure , from a credibility standpoint,  I may not get any of my recommendations implemented for the next 6 months, but I firmly stand by the belief that the best medicine is always a cream based curry with cheese.  Ren’s chicken was fall-off-the bone good but we found the Malai Kofta too light and fluffy for our liking.  (matt)

Earlier, I mentioned the people-watching benefits of north-east curry houses.  Well, shortly after ordering we got our first taste of mayhem.  A couple of turbaned men came in and the door had barely swung shut behind them when the one started hollering at the staff.  “Hanji!!!! Hanji!!!”  (I don’t know how to write it…but that’s what it sounds like) From my time working in the NE it seems to mean some kind of mixture of “hi”, “hey you”, and “hey you…stop ignoring me and get over here and help me out”….it also seems to be used in less frantic situations to just mean “yes”.  Any Hindi/Punjabi speakers out there that can help me?  All the time he was talking on his phone, and when the serving lady peeked out and saw that she just ignored him and ducked her head back in.  He continued to beckon her while talking on his phone, then finished his call and started nibbling on the jalebis on top of the sweets counter until she came back out.  Very strange.  I loved it.  (ren)

Later, as both of us sat dazed in an intoxicating curry high, we noticed some commotion occurring in Punjabi at the adjacent table.  Three men sat around their table fiercely debating about a sugar dispenser.  Each, in turn, tasted the sugar.  Before long, one of the men was feverishly yelling into the kitchen for the waitress to come out and rectify things for them.  I’m not a religious man but I do solemnly believe a miracle occurred shortly afterwards.  As Ren and I slurped down the last of our meals, the curries suddenly exacted a Babel Fish type power on the both of us. We could, for an instant, fluently understand Punjabi. Here’s a transcript of the conversation:

Angry Man:  Hey you! Get out here!  Right now!
Waitress:  What is it now? You’re always coming in here and causing trouble. Don’t you have anything better to do, you old man?
Angry Man: This sugar vessel contains salt. You want me to put salt in my coffee?
Waitress: No, no, no. You’re mad. This is clearly sugar.
Angry Man: Do you not think that a man of my acumen and status understands the difference between sugar and salt? My coffee is ruined. Get me a new coffee.
Waitress:  If my cousin were not married to your brother in law, I would throw the coffee in your face.  Whatever.  Here is a new coffee.
Angry Man: You are a disgrace to your family.

After that, things settled down and everyone was friends again. (matt)

It was pretty spectacular.  Now try slinging drugs instead of coffee, and throw in not understanding Punjabi and you’ll have an idea what my 3.5 years of working in Castleridge based pharmacies was like.  Great times.  As well as the new coffee, the table also got a different sugar dispenser.  I’m pretty sure the original one was put back onto a table as soon as they left without any alteration to its contents.  (ren)

Overall, given the religious or possibly hallucinogenic experience we had, we were close to giving this place (whatever it’s called) a perfect score. We had 3 excellent meals with a year’s supply of naan for under $25. Compare this to my experience at Monty’s Crab Shack where two shitty entrees and an appetizer cost me $58 and you have a kickass deal of a place. Unfortunately, the texture of the Koftas keep this place one step away from perfection. We give it a 9.

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