India is a land of vivid colours and rich culture. The food from India varies by region, but many Indian restaurants in Sydney have excellent curry dishes.
Skip the Indian takeaway and spend your rupees at these great local restaurants and curry houses instead.
Here are the top ten best Indian Restaurants in Sydney!
1. Faheem Fast Food
This is a late-night Indian and Pakistani institution in the inner-west.
These guys have all the favourites – think tandoori chicken, spicy fish tikka, beef korma and Kashmiri naan – and are always busy with a diverse crowd, from families and hipster groups to taxi drivers on their dinner break.
Faheem is one of Sydney’s best curry joints. Fast, fun and incredibly cheap, FFF gets an AAA for value but doesn’t come for the décor, the service or flattering lighting – this isn’t the place for a hot date (unless you’re both stumbling home drunk post-gig up Enmore Road).
Faheem commands maximum respect for minimum bucks, and the ruler of them is Haleem, dubbed ‘King of Currie’ on the menu.
Four different kinds of lentils are cooked down with boned beef until it resembles a thick, sticky paste served dotted with hot chillies. A squeeze of lemon over the top to cut the mush slightly, and there it is, the best soul-reviving curry in Sydney.
2. Janani
In Sydney, North Indian food is not so hard to find – all those rich, thick, creamy, bright red curries with soft, charry naan bread; oily, hot pickles and refreshing, cooling lassis on the side.
But South Indian food is rarer in these parts. It’s lighter and made for the tropics: the curries are looser, more immediately complex, often imbued with the aromatic scents of mustard seeds popped in the pan, earthy curry leaves and sour, citrusy tamarind fruit.
One of the most common dishes in the south is dosa: giant, super-thin crepe-like pancakes made from fermented rice and lentil batter (gluten-free, yeah!) and filled with curry.
Although there are many types of dosa at Janani, we urge you to try Tamil Nadu’s choice version, ‘masala’ dosa (filled with crushed potatoes with curry leaves and mustard seeds), to get an authentic taste of the Indian subcontinent.
In India, it is often served with a dip of sour, tamarind-toned sambal and refreshing, mustardy coconut chutney. Here you get both of these, plus a mild chilli sauce and three different veggie curries.
Break pieces of the crisp, slightly sour pancake off with your hands, top them with the potato filling and dip into your choice of curries. Not bad for $10.
If you like a bit of spice at breakfast time, don’t miss the uttapam. Often described as ‘Indian pizza’, it’s a base with toppings, but that’s where the similarities end.
Like dosa, the batter is made from fermented lentils and rice, so it’s nice and sour. But unlike dosa, it is served thick and spongy and studded with goodies.
You can have it topped as you like at Janani, but we love just getting a bit of everything on there: carrots, onions, tomatoes – the lot. And all of those six delicious curries/dips you got with your dosa, you get with this too. Winning!
Another brekky option is the idli. The batter is made of the same ingredients (fermented lentils and rice – Indian food is nothing if not resourceful), but instead is cooked using small moulds, so that the result is like soft little rice cakes, ready to be dipped and guzzled.
You get a dip of sour veggie sambal, chilli sauce and cooling coconut chutney, and coriander chutney to keep things herbal.
Indians invented tapas long before the Spanish, and thali, usually served at lunch in India (but available all day at Janani), is a bit like that.
‘Thali’ actually refers to the plate on which this meal is served, which allows for a heap of rice in the middle and several other dishes surrounding it (here, there are eight, plus poori and papadum bread).
We go veggo and order the South Indian thali, which means little dishes of sambal, vegetable dahl, eggplant and tamarind curry, yogurt, coconut dahl and yellow dahl, plus a dessert bowl of kheer (sweet, milky soup with vermicelli noodles).
There are richer, meat-centric thalis available in the North Indian style, or even a seafood version. The way to do things is this, though: pour a small amount of curry onto the rice and then pick it up with your right hand, or use your bread to do the job (check out the video below for a visual). Nothing tastes better than food eaten using your hands; trust us.
Janani isn’t a glamorous affair: it’s an ample open space right on the highway near Strathfield in what feels like an industrial estate.
It’s pretty quiet when we visit and would feel a bit soulless if it weren’t for the warm service and Bollywood films on the set. This is actually quite like how restaurants in India feel: it’s all about the people, the laughs and the fantastic food.
Sure, it’s not exactly central, but getting out there is half the fun. Call it a ‘culinary adventure’. You won’t leave disappointed.
3. Chatkazz
Chatkazz is a colourful South Indian street food-inspired restaurant bustling every night with local families sharing massive plates of dosas, dhal curries and other vegetarian dishes.
First up, order a tall glass of nimbu masala. It’s a refreshing riff on a lemon squash that delivers a savoury hit with cumin notes punching through the sour soda.
The cheese dabeli sees a soft bap-like roll doused in grated cheese, sandwiching even more cheese mixed with potato and studded with spicy peanuts. Dip it in the mint sauce for a fresh kick, or try the funky, sweet tamarind sauce.
4. Nithik’s Kitchen
Modest surrounds belie some awe-inspiring skills in the kitchen at this new Rozelle Indian.
Good news, citizens of the Inner West, your lives just got even tastier. Bellingen gelato recently swung open its doors to the sounds of the ’50s and the taste of Persian dates.
Just across the road from this icy newbie, Nithik’s is cranking out the dosa, the paratha and some incredibly fragrant curries. Those are two compelling reasons to hop the 433 or swing a leg over your pushy.
Vikram Arumugam and his wife Preeti Elamaran are so excited by their menu they’ll explain each dish in minute detail, which can be heavy going if you’re really just here to eat dinner. But if you’re curious about Indian festival dishes, it’s worth listening to.
Much of the food here is inspired by the celebration dishes and street food served in southern India. For example, masala dosa is a light, thin spider web of rice and lentil pancake, served with slightly spicy potato curry and a coconut and gunpowder chutney.
They also do a version with a sort of hand-pounded lamb relish.
The room is modest, but we’d argue that you’re here for what’s on the plate and not what’s under it, like a delicate curry of chicken, potato, peas, poppy seeds, cashew and green chilli cooked in coconut milk.
A mild nine-vegetable curry is tamarind-tangy. A dry curry perked up with aniseed, chilli, and fresh curry leaves is fragrant and heady. Scoop it up with something from the staggeringly large bread list, or order an extra dosa.
For dessert, cool down with a whole orange filled with a slightly savoury orange-flavoured Indian ice cream.
Rozelle just got a little spicier. And we want more.
5. Bang
Holy moly Bangladesh, your food is a revelation! Bang is open now in Surry Hills, serving up food inspired by the streets of Dhaka and injecting new life and flavour into one of Sydney’s most popular dining strips, Crown Street.
One of the best things about this place is the dynamic atmosphere. Maybe it’s the on-trend, industrial-meets-designer interior, the flashy neon lights, boldly monogrammed crockery, or friendly staff in their vibrant, tiger-themed T-shirts.
Or perhaps it’s the thoughtful little cone of roasted, unshelled peanuts that lands on the table to see you over until the food comes. The optional $2 charge goes straight to the Fred Hollows Foundation.
But it’s also the playlist – think Cyndi Lauper, Shaggy, the Backstreet Boys and the always-entertaining ‘Hungry Eyes’ from Dirty Dancing. These guys know their audience: 20- to 30-somethings who like a side of nostalgia with that brand new dish you’ve probably never heard of before.
Bucking the share plate trend, Bang separates its service into a starter, main and dessert. So bear in mind that your small plates will all arrive simultaneously and be cleared before the more extensive dishes land.
After years of one-dish-at-a-time dining, it’s refreshing to be able to eat this way, like holding your pic’n’mix party – a little bit of this, a little bit of that.
Bangladesh’s most beloved street food goes perfectly with this eating style – fuska are little puffs of fried pastry filled with smooth, spicy mashed potatoes.
Delicate, grated boiled egg bedecks the tops, and a little jug of tamarind water is served alongside, ready to pour over as you eat (we saw a similar dish at Subcontinental last week). It’s playful, filling, and sort of like a savoury Tim Tam slam.
Whatever you do, order the omelette with blue swimmer crab. It’s just clever cooking – the salty, oceanic flavour of the crab lapping against the potent heat of green chillies (which, with their grassy intensity, are too often overlooked for the more familiar warmth of the red variety).
You get hits of hot and impacts of salt, so every mouthful is different. Keep the fish theme going with the cobia tartare, which is like a spicier ceviche. Heady with coriander seeds, it’s light, bright and pleasingly refreshing.
The soupy goat curry has the flavour of a great bone broth backing it up, the meat-rich, tender and melting off the bone; there’s a tingly cinnamon finish to the mild, gravy-like sauce.
The wagyu beef tri-tip curry comes with lovely little cords of chive flower and is light and similarly stock-driven, the meat itself tender and flavourful.
Go all out and try the mussels in bhuna sauce – the garlic and curry leaf sauce doesn’t overpower the delicate flavour of the shellfish. Restrained use of coconut milk keeps the dish refreshing, not heavy.
And what to mop all of these sauces up with? Rice, of course. Here, it’s fit for a Maharaja and positively humming with saffron, which is the most luxurious of spices.
The naans from the in-house tandoor aren’t the doughy kind you get with your chicken tikka roll; here, they are blistered and puffy – much like the rest of the dishes, they represent a lighter approach to what is often seen to be heavy food.
As for drinks, feel free to spike your lassi with a shot of dark rum (the mint-infused Bang Lassi is a great balancing act with the food), but we wouldn’t walk past the Porto Grande cocktail, either.
The white port concoction sings with cardamom, and the PE Rose from Alentejo is a standout if wine’s your tipple – the hefty oakiness holds its own against all that spice.
Not keen on ordering dessert after curry? Bang might make you change your mind because the kulfi (ice cream) is a cardamom lover’s little piece of heaven, and the lal Mohan (sort of like a Gulab Jamin or syrup-soaked doughnut), served with caramelised peach and balanced perfectly with sour, saffron crème Fraiche, is a delight.
The disappointing thing about this place? What you don’t eat, you can’t take with you. Staff say it’s an OH&S issue, but we think they should sort this out. Pronto.
Bang is an exciting addition to Surry Hills, where lighter fare from the Indian Subcontinent is already a notable trend in 2015. This is food that doesn’t weigh you down, that is treated with a sophisticated understanding of the cuisine (no surprise, then, that head chef Tapos Singh is Bangladeshi).
The prices are fair, and a $55 ‘Bang for your Buck’ deal gets you most of the best things on the menu, which will make things easier if you’re dining in a group.
A whole new cuisine rarely presents itself on our inner-city streets, so we’re thrilled to say it: hello, Bangladeshi food, where have you been?
6. Brick Lane
The collision of cultures on a plate can confuse at times. But fusion need not be a dirty word. Take Brick Lane, an unconventional play on Indian cuisine that’s reliant on the flavours but not on the traditions.
Named after the famous London street known for its curry houses, Brick Lane delivers new ways with Indian spices from tandoori chicken burger spring rolls to roti-wrapped Indian tacos and a chai creme brulee.
No rule says subcontinental dining needs to be old fashioned to be good. Yet, few restaurants stray from the expected Raj-era décor, those little copper pots and North Indian curries that have been adapted for Western palates.
Except at Brick Lane.
This is a thoroughly modern iteration of a curry house, which is why it has managed to slip through the Italian stranglehold on Stanley Street and set up shop in an old terrace. Inside, it’s all chipped brick, tungsten globes, and paste-up murals of Hindu holy men lit by the red neon glow of the Brick Lane sign – the look is a lot more Darlo than New Delhi.
And what’s coming out of the kitchen is even harder to pin down to a single origin point.
Shatteringly crisp samosas with spinach and cheese are closer to a pastizzi than the potato and pea parcels you know and love.
A subcontinental take on a banh mi sees buttery paratha spread with pâté and wrapped around tender pork belly with red chillies, green onion and coriander. Juicy, fatty spiced lamb chops find harmony with lightly pickled, salty eggplant pieces and a neutralising yoghurt base.
This is creative, snappy cooking from chef Joey Ingram, who has done time under Sydney culinary royalty like Chui Lee Luk and Martin Benn.
He’s sending out a tender puck of tuna cooked medium rare and crusted with whole cumin and fennel seeds, with spicy reinforcements from a ring of finely diced zucchini and potato curry and smooth, green coriander dahl.
Caramelised onion pieces, crunchy chilli rounds and crisp tiny lentils crown this deconstructed curry that fits back together like a savoury puzzle with each bite.
Don’t leave without a serve of the king prawns. First, the sweet crustaceans are cooked in the shell and then draped over spiced basmati rice with a creamy coconut curry on top. Next, Prise out some prawn meat, add it to a betel leaf with some rice and curry sauce and then cap it off with slices of cooked nectarine for a tropical flounce.
There’s an enthusiasm to your meal here. Service is swift and eager, and they devote as much page space to booze as they do food. It’s almost too easy to have a good time here, especially if they keep those king prawns coming.
7. Abie’s Vegetarian Takeaway
Pendle Hill, a small suburb in the western suburbs, lives large as a busy hub for the Sri Lankan community.
The neatly packed Sri Lankan and South Indian restaurants and grocery stores along Pendle Way are busy with shoppers and diners stocking up on dried goods, curry spices and something readymade to take home for dinner. But, of course, the most popular choice is a curry plate, and the place to get it is Abie’s Vegetarian Takeaway.
Here, you’ll find all the colours of the edible rainbow in the 20 different all-veg curries on offer. Tropical island flavours mix with Subcontinental spice.
Cardamom, clove and cinnamon are repeat performers in fare from the ‘spice island’, with black pepper and chilli for a kick. Coconut, curry leaves, tamarind and coriander provide freshness and balance the sweet and sourness found in sambols and soups.
You can pick and mix five choices onto a super-sized tray with rice so contemplate your choices while standing in the queue. Will it be a dark eggplant curry, tar-black and slick from slow cooking?
Or a bright orange, comforting dhal – the motherly hug of soft lentils?
Green drumstick here is not the chicken leg kind but a hard-skinned vegetable with a sticky okra-like inside, and purple beetroot might seem an unlikely contender for a curry base. Still, the root vegetable transforms from its slightly sweet base to a warm and deep spiced dish when sliced and braised with cinnamon and curry leaves.
A vibrant red devilled soy meat (a gluten meat substitute coated in a sticky chilli sauce) is also a worthy contender. Finally, make sure you add a spoonful of pol sambol to the plate, an essential Sri Lankan condiment made from coconut, chilli, lime and red onion mix that adds even more flavour.
The curry plate includes pappadums; two salty, deep-fried, finger length and gently warming, crisp chillies; a peppery digestive soup; and a dessert – a sweet, milky sago and noodle pudding that calms down any lingering chilli heat.
Snacks are called ‘short eats’ here and involve long crunchy crumbed and fried rolls (imagine a mini Chiko roll, only veg), triangles of potato in roti pastry, and samosas, but it’s the circles of vadai – deep-fried patties of yellow split peas, onion and chilli – that will become your new go-to snack.
Walk out with a bagful for later. They’ve also got Sri Lankan staples like hoppers (those crispy wafer crêpes) or delicate string noodly numbers eaten along with curry, spiced rice biryanis and roti and paratha bread.
Most of Abie’s business is takeout, but there are a couple of small tables where you can eat in. You might have to ask for some cutlery as most regulars eat the traditional way with their fingers, scooping up piles of curry and rice and escorting it neatly to their mouths.
And to be honest, the food is so good here you’ll use any means necessary to get it in you.
8. Indo Lankan Food Bar
Sri Lankan food is having a bit of a moment right now. And it’s all about one dish in particular: hoppers. A thin, crisp, yeasted rice crepe, hoppers are served as a traditional brekky in Tamil Nadu and Sri Lanka.
A riff on tradition is string hoppers: imagine a jangle of vermicelli noodles woven into a loosely shaped disc.
They’ve been served out West in Sydney for decades, but with a word on the street saying that ex-Berta chef O Tama Carey is due to open a hopper restaurant this year, they’re gaining a hip-factor like never before.
Indo Lankan Food Bar is an old faithful for string hoppers. Situated right beside Seven Hills train station, this Indian-Sri Lankan restaurant-cum-takeaway feels a bit tired and worn, boasting that aggressive neon lighting so familiar from India.
Although it’s quiet when we walk in at 8 pm, by 9 pm, there’s a far more bustling crowd.
The string hoppers come all different ways – tossed with spices, egg and onion aka ‘kothu’; or served steamed with a side of curry. We try them alongside a Spanish mackerel curry where the oily, spicy fish is the prima donna.
Use the neutrally flavoured hoppers as dippers to lighten the load. It’s served with a light and bright coconut chutney, which further balances the strong fish taste.
Vada is like savoury Indian doughnuts. Here they are studded with fragrant fennel seeds, with a dense, rather than soft, texture. They will fill you fast.
Order them alongside some bouncy, steamed rice cakes known as idli as a mixed starter and dip them alternatively in spicy, salty, tamarind-rich sambar and more of that curry leaf-flecked coconut chutney.
Try the masala dosa for an authentic taste of Tamil Nadu. A vast, folded (rather than rolled) fermented lentil pancake comes encasing curry leaf spiced potatoes, with sambal and two types of coconut chutney on the side.
Feeling a bit rough from the night before? Imagine Kothi roty as the Sri Lankan equivalent of Malaysia’s char kway teow, the flat rice noodles replaced by torn up pieces of stir-fried roti.
You can get it served eight different ways, but we go for goat served on the bone, which is cinnamon-toned, rich and deeply comforting.
If you fancy something sweet, wattalappam is a coconut milk and jaggery (unrefined Indian sugar) custard from Sri Lanka.
It can be smooth and silky or spongy and eggy, and here it’s the latter. Served in chunks rather than in a pot and doused in caramel-like jaggery syrup.
For a less intense taste, go for a sweet or salty lassi instead (the mango lassi is more sweet juice than cooling yoghurt).
Service is a bit all over the place here, but given only one waitress for the entire restaurant, that’s not surprising.
The food is not quite at Janani level in the delicacy stakes, but it’s good.
Plus, on Sundays, they do feasts laid out on banana leaves. And if we lived in Seven Hills, we’d probably be here for that kothi roty more than we’d care to admit.
9. Spice of Life
Spice of Life is a different restaurant every time you visit.
Some nights the expansive, if the user, dining room is as sparsely populated as the cinema at 10 am midweek, with only the murmur of cricket on the telly and far off kitchen chit chat to buffer your conversation as it bounces off the tiled floors.
Other nights the restaurant, which is flanked by two large function rooms, is hosting a wedding reception on one end and a tween girl’s massive coming of age party, with Bollywood, hits ringing out from each side and tingling in the middle.
Sipping on a mango lassi as staff frantically ferry plates around you, it almost feels like you’re intruding.
Whatever the tenor of the night, start with papri chaat. Often described as ‘Indian nachos’, the tag does no justice to this creamy, sweet and tangy street snack.
Something akin to deep-fried flatbread is layered with chickpeas, potato chunks, yoghurt, tamarind chutney, mint, coriander and sev – crunchy fine noodles made with chickpea flour. Spicy and cooling simultaneously, each bite delivers a jumble of textures and flavours that flag the festive meal ahead.
Velvety, verdant palak paneer is a safe bet, but try the paneer karahi instead, a dry curry that’s got more spark. Criss-crossed with spears of capsicum and chilli, this spicy and Picante curry is boosted by tomato, onion, garlic and ginger, which bounces nicely off those mild blocks of paneer cheese.
The same principle is in play with Gobi Manchurian, a popular Indo-Chinese dish where cauliflower florets are fried then tossed in a peppery sweet and sour sauce.
It’s like sweet and sour pork for vegetarians, and unlike other cauliflower-imposter dishes (‘rice’, pizza, ‘buffalo wings’), you won’t yearn for the ‘original’ while scoffing it down.
Such vibrant cooking can make milder, earthier curries feel like a second prize on the table. Fish masala comes generously portioned with fillets, and baingan achari – eggplant roasted in pickle spices like mustard, cumin, fennel and fenugreek to the point of spice – is soft enough to spread on your naan with a knife.
However, if you want something you’ll return for, go with the lamb korma. Chunks of slow-cooked meat both infuse and absorb a creamy, nutty sauce bolstered by the umami-giving powers of tomato paste and cinnamon’s gentle hum in a brown-on-brown show of #uglydelicious.
Mop it up with your carb of choice – perhaps a scattering of jeera rice or a corner of fluffy garlic naan; there’s no wrong answer here.
Spice of Life’s multiple hat-wearing can be a delight – for example, at night it’s a sit-down, à-la-carte affair, with curries averaging a reasonable $18, but at lunch, for $12.90 you can pop over to the bain-marie and pile your plate with as much aloo palak, chana masala, butter chicken and daal as you can handle.
On the other hand, this variability means that while on most occasions the naans are fresh and the curries hot in both temperature and flavour, other nights leave you wondering if they’ve recently changed management.
However, on a crowded strip of Indian restaurants vying for locals’ attention, Spice of Life is one of the few that have weathered the arrival of newer, flashier joints – that is, the conquest of Harris Park by Chatkazz – by turning out good, honest food that’s unapologetically rich, though perhaps too generous with the ghee for some. It’s festival food, party food, wedding food.
Just as well then, that these folks know how to host the best of them.
10. The Colonial – Neutral Bay
The way you feel about Thai food is how Brits feel about Indian fare.
It’s what you order when mates come around; the salvation you crave when you’re hungover; and when you’re dining out on the stuff, the menu tends to be extensive. So there’s usually a dish that will please everyone – be it your gran, your kids, or your mental hippy auntie. It’s more than a cuisine; it’s part of your routine.
Given the number of Brits living here, a restaurant that attends to those homesick hankerings is necessary. The Colonial has long been dishing up curries to fans in Leichhardt and Darlinghurst, but it was notably absent from what sometimes feels like our local Little Britain: Neutral Bay. Now that’s changed.
The new opening is situated on Grosvenor Street, a buzzy eating strip home to Enopizzeria, Woodland Kitchen, and Bourke Street Bakery.
The food here took its cues from the North-West Frontier province of colonial India when the British Raj ruled. Think rich sauces; tender, marinated meat and good dosings of spice.
The interior works overtime not to appear average; these guys have made an effort to boot with a fancy, blue-lit bar and faux-stone walls complete with faux rivets. It’s a bit.
Mumbai-meets-Vegas, but there are lots of beige accents tossed in as if it’s trying not to be.
They’ve got all the dishes you expect – chicken tikka masala, vindaloo and lamb rogan josh. You know the drill. But we’re taken with the railway goat curry.
The meat is cooked on the bone, so all that beautiful flavour penetrates the other components. The resulting sauce is thick, glossy and spicy with cinnamon undertones, and it sticks to each tender piece of meat. Nibble each piece off the bone, and soak it up with soft, slightly charred naan bread.
Skip the chicken tikka, which is a little dry and under-seasoned, and go for the darker meats instead. The ‘lamb lollipop’ – actually lamb chops marinated in spices and yoghurt before being cooked in the super-hot clay oven – is sticky, just blackened enough and softened by all that yoghurt.
Eat them with your hands – it’s the only way – but get the weirdly saccharine mint ‘chutney’ (more like sweet raita) served on the side rather than poured on top. These chops don’t need it.
A solid veggie option is the dahl makhani, a Punjabi dish of black lentils and kidney beans cooked long and slowed with cream and butter until they become smoky in flavour and silky in texture.
Skip the Goan fish curry – unless you like korma with mushy pieces of fish floating about – and go with the beef vindaloo instead. It’s another famous Goan dish, and here it is sour, moderately hot, and slightly sweet from capsicum.
Vindaloo, by the way, is massively misunderstood in Britain, where it’s served heart-stoppingly hot. There it’s known as the traditional curry (and, indeed, signifier) of all ‘real men’.
In fact, vindaloo isn’t traditionally that hot in its homeland. What makes it unique is the addition of vinegar (a relic leftover from the Portuguese occupation of Goa).
With that in mind, it’s worth mentioning that we order all of our curries medium, and they still arrive pretty hotly. So choose the mild variation if chillies aren’t for you.
There are parathas and rotis, but we advise sticking with the less crunchy naans for maximum dipping potential. They arrive in metal frying baskets, which doesn’t make any sense at all, but the staff are so sweet we roll with it. For dessert, don’t look past the pistachio kulfi.
Made in house, this Indian ice cream tastes like frozen condensed milk blended with pistachios. Strangely addictive.
A curveball is thrown our way in the form of a cocktail called an Imli Mirchi. It’s made from tamarind syrup, Tabasco, tequila, lime and chilli. It looks awful – a sort of muddy green liquid lurking in an IKEA martini glass, with a browning wedge of lime slotted on edge.
Yet it tastes excellent – sour, sweet, hot and pleasantly boozy. If this were served in a Tiki mug with a mixologist’s level of embellishment, you’d sing its praises without a second thought.
But if it all feels a step too far, there’s Indian Haywards 5000 beer or, of course, Kingfisher. That’s what real men drink with vindaloo, right?