This is food to make the senses whoop TOM PARKER BOWLES reviews a Nepalese restaurant in Folkestone

Folkestone, on a damp Tuesday afternoon. St Lucia it ain’t, but we’re not here for limpid seas – rather Nepali Kitchen, the place, I’m told, for some proper Nepalese cooking. This seaside town is home to six Nepalese restaurants, which may seem a touch excessive. Not, though, when I find out it’s the base of the First Battalion, Royal Gurkha Rifles, one of the bravest and most formidable fighting forces on earth. Meaning lots of hungry soldiers looking for a taste of home. Where they go, we follow.

And so we find ourselves downstairs at Nepali Kitchen, which feels Alpine chalet than Himalayan hideaway, complete with fish tank and wooden bar. There’s an excellent wine list, put together by my old friend Zeren Wilson. Along with a menu filled with thukpas and thalis, sekuwa, sandeko and chaats. I haven’t heard of most of these dishes, let alone tried any. But with the help of owner (and ex-Gurkha) Tej Tamnag, we venture forth. There’s dried buffalo sukuti, dense, dark and chewy. And peanut sandeko, where the nuts are lustily spiced with chaat masala – a blend of the sour, hot and (black) salty – and a fistful of herbs. Aloo nimki uses fresh-made wheat crackers, tumbled with red onions, potato, fresh green chilli and still of that chaat masala. It’s a joyous riot of tastes and textures, throatily spicy, but utterly divine.

‘Food to make the senses whoop’: momo at Nepali Kitchen

Pork belly sekuwa sees dry-spiced skewers of pig grilled over charcoal and served with a fierce chilli dip – fat, chew and char. Bliss. Then momo, those famous dumplings that were probably born in Tibet, but grew up very much Nepalese. The pastry is made fresh every day, slithery in all the right ways, neither too dense nor too thin. The jhool momo come in a thick, cumin-heavy broth, and you can get both fried and steamed versions. They are all immense. We order to take away.

You choose your heat level, from one to ten, but even at the top extreme the pungent pods brace and invigorate, rather than shock and overwhelm. This is food to make the senses whoop, each bite a heady, intricately spiced revelation.

We stagger out of Nepali Kitchen abuzz on a wave of chilli-fuelled delight. Suddenly the previously dreary winter’s day seems a whole lot sunny.

About £25 per head.35-37 Sandgate High Street, Folkestone CT20; nepalikitchen.co.uk

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