The times are a-changin’, and so are we!

Different chilli dishes from Chilli Devil's

A preview of our new extended menu!

There is no denying that the last few weeks have been challenging at best for all of us, or that things may never quite go back to the old “normal”. As most of you will know Chilli Devil’s has adapted with the times, concentrating on a take-away food and beer offer. We are now ready to take that to the next level, with an extended new menu to bring you more of your favourites more of the time! At the heart of this menu are the the most popular Chilli Devil dishes from the last three years, all available in a new (larger) standard size.
We will continue to be open for you to collect your food in person, or have it delivered locally (see the map on the website for our delivery area).
Check out our core menu (or scroll down for highlights) where you can pick out your favourites for quick easy future ordering. Our current opening times remain unchanged for now, but obviously may change if the pattern of demand changes. Feel free to drop us a line or comment on facebook if you would like us to change our opening hours. Most importantly of all, please, please,please, don’t forget to share the good news on social media and with your friends!

Quick summary of website changes.
All main dishes now one size, roughly 1.5 times larger
All main dishes now £7.50 (smaller portions were £6.00 pre-lockdown)
Minimum order £10.00 (No minimum on walk-in orders to collect)
You can build a list of your favourites for quicker ordering in future
Extended delivery area
Delivery charges are an optional extra! If you would like to contribute to the cost of delivering your order just tick the “Delivery Contribution” box – Thank You!

Chilli Devil face masks are here! Order yours at!
They’ve finally arrived. Our washable, reusable 100% polyester face masks are guaranteed NOT to be surgical quality. Nor will they make you look sexy. And they definitely won’t protect you from a nuclear holocaust.
They are however safe to machine wash at up to 60°C, and they do have the Chilli Devil logo on them – and even our web address and phone number, so you’ll always be able to find us! Bonus!

Highlights From The Chilli Devil’s New Menu!

Venison and Plum Chilli (Scotland)

A plum and chilli sauce gives this tender slow cooked venison a slightly sweet, rich, gamey flavour. One to savour.

Served with rice, soured cream and fresh coriander. Extra soured cream or hot sauce available with this dish. Allergens:Celery

Buffalo and Beer Chilli. (Chilli Devil Special!)

Buffalo Meat contains less fat than beef and has a slightly sweeter taste. It also has the additional benefit of being a valuable source of Omega 3. Our buffalo chilli is slow cooked for maximum tenderness.

Served with rice, soured cream and fresh coriander.
Extra soured cream or hot sauce available with this dish.
Allergens: Gluten (from barley & wheat)

Korean Style Beef (Korea)
This rich and satisfying dish features ground beef cooked with generous amounts ginger and garlic in lots of soy sauce. Onions and shredded cabbage compliment the meat and chilli adds just a little heat. A mild but intensely tasty recipe.

Served with rice, soured cream and fresh coriander.
Extra soured cream or hot sauce available with this dish.
Allergens: Soya, sesame.

Beef Picadillo (Cuba)
Picadillo is cooked all over Latin America – this version is the Chilli Devil’s take on a Cuban Picadillo. There no beans in this beef chilli, but you will find raisins, olives, sweet peppers,  lashings of chocolate and even a hint of cinnamon (and a little chilli of course). This is comfort food.

Served with rice, soured cream and fresh coriander.
Extra soured cream or hot sauce available with this dish.
Allergens: None.

Railway Chicken Curry (India)
This is a historic dish – tied to the very beginnings of English-style creamy curry dishes. In the days of the Raj, when English officers couldn’t take the heat of the staple chicken dish served on Indian railways at the time, chefs would add a paste of ground nuts and water to create this milder, creamier dish.

Served with rice, soured cream and fresh coriander.
Extra soured cream or hot sauce available with this dish.
Allergens: Nuts

Madagascan Lemon Pepper Chicken (Madagascar)
This is our rework of a Madagascan recipe, with lemon zest, cracked black pepper and organically grown Lemon Drop chillies. Coconut milk and sweet peppers round off a sparklingly tasty sauce for tender chunks of chicken breast.

Served with rice, soured cream and fresh coriander.
Extra soured cream or hot sauce available with this dish.
Allergens: Celery

Caribbean Lamb Curry (Barbados)
Be prepared for heat! Fresh habanero chillies are the key ingredient in this dish of slow cooked diced lamb in a rich, darkly spiced sauce with a real kick!

Served with rice, soured cream and fresh coriander.
Extra soured cream or hot sauce available with this dish.
Allergens: None

Lamb and Apricot Curry (Cyprus)
Diced lamb in a fragrant and spicy tomato based sauce, with chopped apricots, onions and sweet peppers.

Served with rice, soured cream and fresh coriander.
Extra soured cream or hot sauce available with this dish.
Allergens: None

Pork and Mango Curry (Myanmar)
Tender, diced pork loin, cooked with mango, sweet peppers and onions to create a spicy and slightly sweet & sour curry.

Served with rice, soured cream and fresh coriander.
Extra soured cream or hot sauce available with this dish.
Allergens: None

Vegan mixed bean and sweet pepper chilli - from YemenMixed Bean and Sweet Pepper Chilli (Yemen)
One of our vegan favourites – tasty and medium spiced. Sweet peppers, onions and a selection of beans in a spicy tomato sauce.
Served with rice, soured cream or dairy free substitute and fresh coriander.

Extra soured cream or hot sauce available with this dish.
Allergens: None.

Coconut Veggie Dahl (Sri Lanka)

A selection of vegetables, lightly spiced and cooked with coconut milk and red lentils.
Served with rice, soured cream or dairy free substitute and fresh coriander.

Extra soured cream or hot sauce available with this dish.
Allergens: None.

See the full menu at

Corona virus statement

We are still open, but obviously we are concerned for everyone’s safety.

In the light of the current situation we have decided to make the following changes:

All events have been cancelled for the forseeable future. If you have paid for tickets for an event, please check your inbox for our email.

As we are already licenced and insured as a take-away we will be increasing our take-away menu and beginning a delivery service, initially to addresses within 3 miles of the bar. The menu will be published on ASAP, and you will be able to pay online. The available options will change regularly (as our menu always has!). More details will be published here and on our website soon.

We will also be able to supply beer in take-away containers!

We are open as usual this week, but next week we will be opening 12pm – 9pm Wednesday and Thursday, 12pm to 11pm Friday and Saturday, and 12pm – 9pm on Sunday.

If we are forced to close as a bar, we will continue to provide a take-away / delivery service for as long as possible.

What will not change:

Our high standards of food hygiene – our last inspection resulted in a 5 out of 5 rating and the inspectors report said simply “All satisfactory, very high standards throughout”. That’s a bit like getting an advisory on your car’s MOT saying “Wow! What a well maintained car!”. In response to the current situation we have raised our standards even higher and continue to monitor the situation and react appropriately.

Our prices – we will continue to offer the best value our tiny business can afford, and may even come up with a few new deals!

(And we still don’t sell Mexican beer)

As we approach our third anniversary we would like to thank all of our lovely customers for their support, and assure you that we will continue to monitor and adapt to the difficulties ahead.

Please remember to watch this page for updates, or sign up to our mailing list –

Keep safe, stay calm and eat chilli!

How to behave in pubs.

Once upon a time pubs were pretty much of a muchness – a tried and tested formula that we all knew. Time however has moved on, and in an increasingly competitive marketplace, beset by high overheads and falling trade, pubs have had to diversify. There are now a plethora of different pub “business models”, each creating it’s own atmosphere as it tries to carve itself a secure niche in a crumbling High Street.
This leads to potential confusion for the occasional drinker, and a universal need to adapt one’s approach and attitude in different venues if we are to blend in to the general ambience of the place, rather than stick out like the proverbial thumb. The notes below may be used as a rough guide to avoiding such embarrassment.

1. Old fashioned street corner pub:
Be discreet and friendly. Say “please” and “thank you”, and don’t sit on old Sid’s favourite stool in the corner – even if Sid isn’t there. At closing time drink up and fuck off – you are not invited to the lock in so don’t waste everybody else’s time by lingering over your last drink.

2. Gastro pub:
Wear your best designer label clothes, act like you’ve just bought the place and try not to think about next month’s credit card statement. Try to order your food in a French accent, even if you’re ordering posh pizza and chips. Don’t complain if your food arrives on a second-hand roof tile. Don’t ask if they have Chardonnay on draught.

3. Sports bar:
Wear shorts and trainers even if you do weigh nineteen stone and the only exercise you get is going to and from the bar. Burp loudly whenever possible and swear in every sentence. Refer to the bar staff as “love” or “pet”, and do your best to cover them in spittle as you order your fourteenth pint of crapberg lager. Be sure to not drink more than half of your beer in each bar – that way you can boast about drinking twenty pints a night despite not really making it to ten.

4. Karaoke pub:
Just don’t.
Anyway, “karaoke pub” is an oxymoron. Pubs are meant to be for SOCIALISING; karaoke is the most anti-social public participation activity ever invented (even for the people passing by).

5. Real music pub:
Chill out. Don’t criticise the musicians unless you’re prepared to get up and play yourself (and can do a better job). Don’t shout “Wonderwall – do fuckin’ Wonderwall”. Singing along is OK, trying to steal the mic is not. And if you must get up and dance, that’s fine – just don’t knock over anybody’s drinks or tables (your own included).

6. Student pub
Try to impress the staff by discussing philosophy or Magnetohydrodynamics and the Thermonuclear Problem. When that doesn’t work try to invent a drinking game they haven’t seen before. Pay through the nose for alco-pops/shots ‘cos you haven’t quite got used to real drinking yet. Leave your alco-pops/shots and the rest of the contents of your stomach in the loo.

7. Micro pub
Wear corduroy trousers and a woolly jumper – even if you’re a woman and it’s mid-summer. Treat the expert behind the bar with the respect and reverence that his/her experience of getting totally shitfaced on totally obscure beers deserves. Use a small discreet notebook and a chewed up biro with green or purple ink to list the beers you have had.

8. Irish pub:
Get drunk before you go to the pub. Remember when it’s your round – no one will remind you, and no-one will forget if you don’t remember. Don’t complain about the kids, they’re part of the family, and the pub is all about family. Do not talk about religion. Pretend you are really enjoying the diddley-dee music from the assembled amateur musicians and compliment Philomena on her beautiful voice, even if you’d rather listen to the wailing of a thousand banshees.
©Chilli Devil 2020

Who do you think is the sauciest?

Answer the simple question below to let us know which of our three “Election Special” sauces is the sauciest!
If you want to “put your money where your mouth is” as they say, visit our store page and use the code SURVEY to get a whopping 50% discount as a little thank you from the Chilli Devil!
You don’t have to give your name or email address, but if you do you will be entered into a free draw for a full set of all three sauces!

Saucy? Or not?

Create your own user feedback survey

The Easy, The Hard & The Impossible. Part 2. When Google says “turn left”, follow the donkey shit.

Weather forcasts are interesting here. Almost every day the weather app on my phone says rain / thunder. Almost every day a quick check of the hourly forcast shows a shower around lunchtime, and another in the evening. Sometimes they happen. I’ve only once got properly wet in Mexican rain…

So I woke up on Sunday feeling right back on form; Arturo’s tequila must have been good medicine! I decide to pursue what had been my plan for Thursday before I was laid low, namely to go Mexican waterfall hunting.

According to Google the Cascada Los Azules Tequila is a mere 43 minute stroll from the hotel. It even suggests it is possible to drive there. It sounds like a good way of burning off any remaining surplus blood sugars. The weather forcast indicates the usual lunchtime shower…
I head out through the barrio on the other side of highway 15, and soon I’m on a pot-holed dirt track through fields of Blue Weber Agave that will one day become tequila.

I feel a rush of satisfaction, this is what I wanted to see.
The track gets narrower, and rougher. It soon reaches the point where it is obvious that not even 4x4s come down here. I leave the agave plantation behind on my right hand side and the scenery changes to uncultivated scrubland.

The “path” deteriorates even further, essentially becoming a natural obstacle course.
“Turn right” says Google. Sure enough there is a path through the scrub, just wide enough to accommodate a human torso. I plunge in.

For a couple of hundred yards this alleyway through the scrub is actually easier to navigate than the “path” I just left. Then two things happen; as the ground underfoot changes and it begins to rain.

As the path begins to drop away down the side of the valley the rock underfoot becomes deeply rutted, every step a potential twisted ankle. The situation is made worse by the now steady rain. The rocks are becoming slippery. The route twists back and forth as it descends into the valley. Some of the switchbacks becoming more like bouldering exercises than walking. And a new hazard has appeared; regular dollops of donkey shit. Actually I’m no expert on donkey digestive detritus, but I’m guessing it’s donkey shit.

Time, perhaps to consider the situation I find myself in. I’m halfway (I reckon) down a steep, rocky, slippery valley side. On one side dense foliage clings to a near vertical face, on the other is a precipitous drop. The jumble of rocks between the two is rarely more than a couple of feet wide, and often less. My footwear (good quality chelsea boots) isn’t really up to the job and I’m now soaked to the skin. On the other hand, the views are spectacular…

Logic suggests abandonment. But that smacks of defeat. I started this, I decide, and I’ll damn well finish it. That British bulldog spirit again; an innate ability to compensate for one’s lack of resources with a stiff upper lip and boundless recklessness. I press on.

After a little while the going gets a little easier again. A young Mexican family pass me going in the opposite direction, soaked to the skin in their shorts and t-shirts, their agility like mountain goats to my lumbering old bull.
“Turn left” says Google. There is no obvious left turn here. I press on another few yards, and sure enough a small gap appears in the foliage on my left. The path, such as it is, seems to peter out into a wall of scrub after just a few paces. I check my phone again. It appears to be frozen, still telling me to turn left.
I study the ground. The path I am on is still liberally decorated with donkey shit. The path to the left is not. I opt to follow the donkey shit. The route is much less steep now, and I am soon rewarded – I can hear my destination! Five minutes later I am sat beside the river, just downstream of the falls. Google’s projected 43 minutes has taken me two and a half hours – much of it spent navigating the worst terrain I have ever “walked”. I am exhausted to the point of retching, my thighs are in agony. I am drenched. And I still have to find my way back, without Google’s help ‘cos my phone has gone on strike. None of it matters, I said I would do this today, and I did it.

Anyway, going uphill is easier in a sense – I reckon if necessary I can do the more difficult sections on all fours. The only thing that worries me is all that donkey shit…

The Easy, The Hard & The Impossible. Part 1.

There are many things we take for granted in modern life, because they are so easily achieved. Take buying a newspaper for instance; much easier than say, finding a doctor in a foreign country on a Saturday afternoon. But things don’t always work out that way.
I arrived in Tequila on Tuesday evening, and spent Wednesday familiarising myself with the area around my hotel. On Thursday, I felt dreadful. I had no energy, a tight chest and a headache. I was wiped out to the point I feared I had suffered another embolism. Friday was no better; I must have looked pretty rough too. When I ventured from my hotel room for food and drink (well, drink, I had little appetite), the reception staff got me to talk to an English speaking colleague on the phone. “Are you OK? Do you need a doctor?”, “I’ll be fine, I’m just having a bad day, gracias”. British bulldog spirit! More of that later…
Saturday brought a little respite, and with it some common sense. If I had had another errant blood clot, it made sense to get myself checked over. But how does one find a doctor in Mexico on a Saturday afternoon? I ask at reception “Lo siento, yo necesito un medico por favor”.
“Si, no problemo”, and I am waved to a seat where I begin to catch up with world events via my phone (the hotel wifi is useless beyond reception).
Just a few minutes later I hear the wailing of a siren. To my acute embarrassment the flashing red and blue lights come to a halt outside the hotel, and two paramedics come rushing in. Apparently finding “un medico” in Tequila on a Saturday afternoon is surprisingly easy…
Ten minutes later they are on their way again. I am reassured that my blood pressure and heart rate are fine, but my blood sugar levels are off the scale. That’s OK, I can self-medicate for that. I drink copious amounts of water, eat some melon and yoghurt, and force myself to exercise.I start by seeing if I can find any American newspapers in Tequila – afterall they have American tourists. I have no luck, in fact I can find no newspapers on sale in Tequila (and never did!), but I do discover Arturo’s bar, where the genial Arturo is delighted to help me explore Tequila’s national drink. Traditional self-medication at it’s best. To be continued…

Mexican Pole Dancing

Saturday in Tequila, as in many places, is market day. I wander down to the town square by the magnificent cathedral. In truth the market isn’t much beyond a couple of rows of stalls mainly dedicated to tourist trinkets, but something else catches my eye. A handful of men in traditional garb, looking suspiciously like Mexican Morris dancers. “This could be interesting” I think.
Even as I select my vantage point they rise from their bench and gather round the base of a huge pole (was that there yesterday?) with ropes dangling from it. “Aah”, I say to myself, “more sort of Maypole dancing then; wonder if they’ll do with swords or something to make it more interesting?”

They don’t. Neither do they use the ropes. They dance slowly and purposefully to the sound of a whistle and a tiny drum played simultaneously by one of their number. I’m a tad disappointed by the lack of spectacle.
However, just as I think it’s all over, one of them starts to climb the pole. My interest is revived with interest.

At the top of the pole is rickety looking frame that turns out to be a sort of square roundabout. The climber starts rotating himself about the pole, whilst tidying one of the ropes. Another dancer follows him, and another, and another. In a couple of minutes there is a dancer sat on each side of the rickety square roundabout, and the music stops; while the musician climbs up to join them.
Now I’m really intrigued. Where is this guy going to sit? Yep, obvious really, he’s kind of like the fairy on the Christmas tree.
The music starts again and the rickety roundabout begins a slow gyration as the ropes wound around the top of the pole. Shortly thereafter, the musician stands up.

Stands up on the very top of a 30 meter high pole. There is no safety equipment here; no hard hats or hi-viz vests to help the accident investigators find your body on the unforgiving flagstones ninety eight and a half feet below. Definitely no safety harness. Health and Safety in the UK would be apoplectic. I find out later that even in easy-going Mexico, many places have banned this 450 year old ritual because of the number of injuries and deaths…
What happens next is spectacular. The other four climbers who have been gathering momentum on the rickety square roundabout, hurl themselves off backwards.

Photo courtesy of Wikipedia

Each has tied one of the ropes around his waist and they fan out, upside down, and spiral downward as the ropes unwind from the pole, correcting their orientation at the last moment before landing, perfectly synchronised and perfectly evenly spaced about the pole.
Meanwhile the musician has played on, straight-backed from his lonely elevation. He doesn’t stop until the other four have unhitched themselves, then climbs down. He looks older than me, but maybe he’s just afraid of heights…

History bit (paraphrased from Wikipedia)

The “Dance of the Flyers” is an ancient Mesoamerican ceremony/ritual still performed today, albeit in modified form, in isolated pockets in Mexico and Guatemala. It is believed to have originated with the Nahua, Huastec and Otomi peoples in central Mexico, and then spread throughout most of Mesoamerica.

According to Totonac myth, the ritual was created to ask the gods to end a severe drought.

The simple things in life.

I could grow to love this place. Many of you will be familiar with my penchant for keeping things as simple as possible. Mexicans seem to share that attitude.
Take the roads for example. There are no give way lines or stop lines on the junctions. There are no pelican crossings – unnecessary or otherwise. The streets are not cluttered with signage like they are in the uk either. Most urban streets seem to be one way, and it took me a while to suss out how you tell which way they run, other than noting the direction all the parked cars are facing. Look carefully at the top pic, see the little arrows above the street names?
The only traffic lights I’ve seen so far were on the highway close to Cancun airport. Overtaking can be done either side of the vehicle in front, and lane discipline seems to consist of basically not hitting anyone else whilst changing lanes. At junctions you just work your way into the traffic stream. At particularly busy (or tricky?) ones on the highways there are speed bumps close to the turning; serious speed bumps that you are definitely going to slow down for regardless of what you’re driving.
In urban areas the only speed bumps are some of the occasional pedestrian crossings. The same applies; hell, some of the kerbstones in Tequila are 18 inches high…
The net result is you have to pay attention to the job of driving. And as far as I’ve seen, it appears to work.

This relaxed, (but attentive) attitude seems to permeate all aspects of driving. It’s not unusual to see people riding in the back of pick up trucks, or whole families on a motorbike, kids squashed between parents, not a crash hat between them. Then there are the mobile adverts; not mobile hoardings such as we see at home, but vehicles (yeah, usually battered old pick ups) with loud speakers playing adverts for who knows what. The UK noise police would have heart attacks; here it’s just one more aspect of a bustling, thriving, but chilled out city.

Addendum: I’ve just watched a young woman in a battered old Toyota turn the wrong way into a one-way street – then force her way across the oncoming traffic to park on the forecourt of the first building on the left. Not only do I think that she knew exactly what she was doing, I think everyone else knew too! In the UK such action would no doubt produce a torrent of horn blowing and abuse. In Tequila it warranted no more than a gently shaken head and a couple of smiles…

Safety first

“In a safe area of downtown Cancun” said the advert. My apartment isn’t so much “downtown” as “out of town”.
I spent a couple of hours exploring the area this evening. It appears to be a largely residential grid hewn out of otherwise inpenetrable woodland. The street parallel to mine is tarmaced, and has the occasional street light. The rest are unlit and characterised by pot holes that even the biggest 4x4s drive carefully around. There are no pavements, nor indeed any pedestrians. There are lots of compounds with imposing gates and high walls, often topped with razor wire. And there are security guards. And dogs. Loud, vicious sounding dogs. It’s obviously a very safe area if you’re the right side of the walls…
The restaurant on the edge of that area that I was looking for was closed by the time I got there, just after 7pm. Another telling sign methinks. The evening is drawing in rapidly by now. I decide to stick to that one tarmaced road, because I know that at the other end of it I’ll come to Alfred.V.Bonfil, and if I turn right I’ll be about a mile from the Amma Food Park Experience again. Not only that, but this (main) road does have a pedestrian pathway – albeit down the middle of the wide central reservation, which can only be reached by braving the onrushing traffic!
Shoulders back, chin up, stride out. My body language says “Bring it on”; I figure it’s the only defence I’ve got.

The view from the other end of my street, in daylight!

The route takes me past the end of my street. My apartment is 10 minutes walk down that darkened opening in the pic at the top of this post.
I’m no wuss, but I think after a couple of beers tonight, I’ll splash out and get a taxi back to my nice safe apartment.

Jesus has heeled my boots!

Jesus has heeled my boots!
I spotted the local cobbler while meandering through Mercado 28.

I was in two minds but I hadn’t had time to get my boots heeled before leaving Hull, and like any good market trader Jesus spotted my hesitation as an opportunity, and invited me into his workshop. Feeling vaguely honoured I ventured into Jesus’s inner sanctum. He was clearly a busy man; so busy he hadn’t had time to clean up in years. The floor was filthy – conveniently matching the walls and the furniture. Scraps of material / leather / rubber littered every surface that wasn’t covered in shoes. Nice shiny shoes, shoes desperately in need of serious repair, and shoes in every imaginable intermediate condition. I suspect Jesus has a sideline in re-manufacturing shoes abandoned by their original owners. I want to ask him, but I think I lack the linguistic agility I need.
We haggle briefly, and a price is agreed. Jesus points me to a chair and for my benefit redirects one of the big floor-standing fans that are obviously covering for the broken air conditioner.
Watching Jesus at work is fascinating. Having ripped the heels off my boots he reaches for the sheet of thick rubber he showed me earlier, and carves off a chunk with what looks more like a scalpel than a knife. He dips his fingers in an open jar of what must be contact adhesive and spreads it liberally on boots and repair material.
Conveniently, at this moment an important looking man with an even more important looking folder in his hands appears. The conversation must have been just long enough for the adhesive to dry; big lump of rubber is slapped on one heel and the excess carved off and slapped on t’other. It looks slapdash. But a few deft strokes of the scalpel and a couple of minutes on the machine in the corner, and my boots are as good as new.
Jesus has heeled my boots; amen.