Cyndi Himmelstiere on Carnival food, financial discipline, and the total absence of the latter
I set myself a strict twenty pound Carnival budget this year, cash only, no cards, absolutely non-negotiable, and I broke it within forty minutes standing directly in front of a jerk chicken stall on Ladbroke Grove. I regret nothing about this specific decision, only my general planning as a human being who apparently cannot walk past good smoke and spice without capitulating entirely.
What Actually Happened At The Stall
The smell hit me from about thirty metres away, properly smoky, properly spiced, the kind of aroma that makes rational financial planning feel suddenly and completely irrelevant. I queued for fifteen minutes without a single second of hesitation about whether this was the correct use of my carefully planned budget.
The Chicken Itself
Genuinely one of the best versions I’ve had at Carnival in years, properly charred, properly seasoned all the way through rather than just on the surface, served with rice and peas that had clearly been sat over the coals absorbing flavour for a considerable amount of time.
The Rest Of My Budget, In Ruins
Having already blown a significant chunk of my twenty pounds on one plate, the rest of the day became a fairly loose interpretation of “budget” that I’m not entirely proud of but also can’t say I regret, given how good everything I ate throughout the day actually was.
Other Stalls Worth Mentioning
A doubles stall further along the route did something genuinely special with their pepper sauce, properly fiery in a way that had me sweating slightly but absolutely still going back for a second one almost immediately.
What I’d Tell Anyone Going Next Year
Bring more than twenty pounds, accept that Carnival food is genuinely worth breaking a budget for, and specifically seek out the stalls with the longest queues, because at Carnival that queue is doing quality control work you simply cannot do for yourself in advance, however hard you try.