Spending Good Friday at a Hole in the Wall

“This is the shrimp tandoori, and the chicken tandoori,” the waiter announced as he sat the two, steaming plates of food on the table.

“I think I ordered too much food,” R announced.

I didn’t need him to tell me; I already knew. We had just finished eating the four samosas that were brought to the table as the first course. The problem was that these samosas were like the size of small grapefruits, instead of the petite little samosas we were accustomed to seeing back home.

Sherlaton, a great little Indian restaurant in Lagos, was absolutely not f*****g around with the samosas. You want samosas? You GOT SAMOSAS, the little restaurant seemed to scream back.

The samosas were much too spicy for my liking, so I only ate one. That left three for R to eat, which he gobbled up with delight. I was happy that he was happy to take one for the team.

After the samosas and tandoori plates came the official entree; luckily, we only ordered one. It was the chicken tikka masala; I was so full that I barely ate any of it. All of the food was great.

That is until later, when it decided to wreck a little bit of havoc on my stomach and started to find its way out of the labyrinth of my intestines.

But hey, what’s a great Indian meal without a little tummy distress afterwards? It’s just all part of the experience, right?

Here are photos of our feast: giant samosas, chicken & prawn tandoori, chicken tikka masala and white rice.

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The most curious thing about this little hole in the wall restaurant, which is saying a LOT if I am calling a place in Lagos a “hole in the wall” because lots of places here kind of look a little dodgy anyway, were the EIGHT air conditioners lining the wall. All of them seemed to be working, although I think only a few were actually turned on.


There was also a manager looking guy walking around with what appeared to be a complicated looking tennis racket. My curiosity got the best of me and I finally wondered aloud, “Why is that guy walking around with a tennis racket?”

R replied, “That’s a BUG ZAPPER!”

Imagine my horror as the guy then continued to pace the length of the restaurant, viciously hunting flies, and that got damn tennis racket looking thing making the sickening BZZZZZZ sound every few minutes, when he caught an unfortunate victim.

Eventually I tuned out the sound and reminded myself: TIA (this is Africa). Ah! A Good Friday, indeed.

Until tomorrow…


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