Basak Supermarket &Off License

Ahhh, Basak! I have drunkenly rummaged through your shelves at 1 in the morning desperately trying to soak up the booze with some sort of carb.
The guys in here are so friendly, particularly the one with the tash. I’d like to think he is Mr. Basak. Mr. Basak recognises me as soon as I come in and one of his little buddies will follow me around asking if I’m all right. Quite often I slur back. Its a relationship I value.

Err, you really can’t go wrong with this one. It’s a big premises. And they have absolutely filled it with stuff. Kind of wish I lived near here, so I never had to frequent Sainsburys or Tescos or any of the big boys of British supermarkets. Basak came prepared.
Outside, you have the entire length of the pavement face devoted, sheerly devoted to fresh fruit and vegetables. And things like chillis, and potatoes, and big bags of onions. So you actually can stock up for a week here. And then inside, it is laden with produce. I’ve never seen a shop packed so full and delicately of tins and jars and packets. So standardly for one of these ‘ethnic’ food shops, they have a lot of rice, and spices, and lentils and cleaning products.
So basically a supermarket, but without the rampant capitalism. I got the impression that the men working there were brothers. Cheap alcohol? Yes they sell that, and again, given the sheer size of this place, they do offer a fairly remarkable selection of beers, wines and spirits innit.
If only they had something like this near me, it’d be brilliant. I wouldn’t cycle across London for it, but if I lived nearby then this is definitely where I’d be shopping