Restaurant Week Recon - A Tale of Three Kebabs

When I read the menu of Kebabs and Curries, and found out that we were being served just that - kebabs and curries, I was a little apprehensive. I've always been a little wary of "luxe" Indian restaurants, especially because it's so easy to find delicious Indian food on the streets of Bombay! But nothing ventured, nothing gained - we decided to add Kebabs and Curries to our Restaurant Week repertoire, and today, I can safely say that it was one of the best decisions ever made!

The ITC is so swanky and stylish that you almost forget the hell of Parel that you have to drive through to get there. Starting from the doorman to the maitre d'hotel - superlative service is ingrained in the core culture of this hotel, and it certainly shows. We were ushered to our table, in an earthen walled, understated dining area, with muted gold lighting. Our server wasted no time in handing us our menus, and we ordered equally quickly. Waiting till 10 for dinner is no joke.

Kebabs and Curries, ITC Grand Central

While we were awaiting our platters, we kept ourselves occupied with papad, kanda - limboo, achaar and chutney - the eternal saviours of famished Indians everywhere. They had served us an interesting spicy garlic pickle that was addictive. I didn't want to make the same mistake I'd made at Botticino and fill up on condiments, though, so I took it slow.

Our food took a really long time to arrive, but when it did, we were so hungry that we didn't leave our mouths unoccupied for even a minute to complain. Each platter consisted of three varieties of kebab, a roti/naan of your choice, their signature dish, kaali dal, raita, and a curry. The non vegetarian curry was chicken, but upon our request, they very obligingly changed it to mutton. Carnivores everywhere, rejoice!

With the amount of permutations and combinations of kebabs being ordered, we got to taste pretty much everything. My personal favourites were the divinely tender and tasty Murg Angaara, and Tala Gosht. The Barrah kebab was satisfyingly charred, a little too thick on the palate to enjoy the succulent taste of the mutton though. The aloo could have been given a miss- it was too dry, but the Machchli Tikka and Murgh Malai more than made up for it.

Murgh Angaari, Barrah Kebab, Murgh Malai Tikka

Though we were served only one type of each kebab, each piece was decently proportioned, and with the naan and lachcha parathas that accompanied them, the plates were decently filling. However, our meal did not end here. The crowning glory of the entire meal was their kaali dal, which was exquisitely flavoured, hot and tasty - total soul food that could make you go "aah" in a second. It was delicious, good enough to eat plain, and combined with the cold, fresh dahi that it was served with - it was absolute heaven.

The mutton curry they served along with this was also worth a mention. Gorgeously tender, with a hint of sweetness, the curry tasted like a little spicier version of sali boti (another one of my eternal favourites), and went deliciously with the rest. It really was an utterly satisfying meal.

Kaali Dal, Dahi, Mutton Curry

There were only two things I could have complained about in this entire meal. One, the fact that it took a little too long to arrive. The second, that no decent Indian meal ends with a "fruit platter" - our dessert after such a fine meal was woefully disappointing. Hey ITC - we WANT our capillaries clogged, can you please oblige us with a gulab jamun platter next time? Finally replete, we were given the fanciest finger bowls EVER to wash our hands in. Ever tried washing your hands in green tea? Five star experiences, I tell you.

Fancy fingerbowl

Failure at dessert :(

Service - excellent. Food- excellent. I think that this was one of the best Restaurant Week outings I've had so far. I would highly recommend a trip down to the ITC either this time, or the next, to enjoy a true soul satisfying foodie experience!

A Tryst with a King

I’ve never been a religious person. Though I think of myself as a theist, I must confess that I only tend to remember God exists when I need something. It’s selfish, but I’m probably not the only one. Which is why I was somewhat surprised to find myself on a Wednesday evening, tired after an average day at work, in the middle of Lalbaug, horns blaring, crowded, dirty Lalbaug, to pay a visit to one of the most popular religious hotbeds in the city – the Lalbaugcha Raja. 

What I’ve heard about the Raja was more than intimidating. An average number of over 1.5 million people a day, queues in which people wait for up to 30 hours to catch a glimpse of him, an estimated 10 crores in donations – no mean figures to laugh off. I had an ulterior motive for wanting to go there, no doubt – I was shooting a video for an amateur film contest and needed this footage – but I still found my excitement mounting as we approached the area. Street lights became flashier, the crowd thickened, and police bandobast reached its peak, as we finally pulled up in the thick of it – at the Lalbaug junction. 

My mother’s friend had a contact who had a contact who was going to take us on a “VIP darshan” to see the Raja. Only in India, right? Anyway, I couldn’t complain as this would mean bypassing the general “janta” queue which snaked on for miles and miles around the area. We alighted from our quiet, air conditioned car at a traffic junction, and because this is India, parked right there. We were right in front of the main gate where the devoted millions who had come to brave the queues began their arduous wait, and the decibel levels were ear shattering.  

Enterprising street vendors were having a field day with the crowd – balloons, toys, food and religious offerings were all going like hot cakes. Water was being handed out by volunteers, and the traffic police looked harried as they tried to instil some order in the bedlam around them. This, then was where we stood, waiting for almost an hour before our man finally found us, and led us into a nearby alleyway, where we’d get to see the pandal.  

Street vendors sell garlands and prasad to passers by

Before entering the vicinity, we were asked by our guide to take our shoes off. Initially I balked at the thought, because we were still a good walk away from the actual pandal, and we were walking on the main road – where hundreds of devotees had unscrupulously flung rejected food, broken garlands, and other garbage, not to mention the regular wet filth that is sadly characteristic of our streets. With no choice in the matter, I took them off, and cringing, began to follow. 

I have never experienced such heightened sensations in Bombay as I have on this one walk. The stench of sweat and dank, grimy streets, the low rumble of the hordes of people around us, the cries of street vendors trying to make a quick buck…the atmosphere was completely enveloping. Bikers and cars tried to weave nimbly through the masses of pedestrians, mothers yelled at their children to hurry up, and the shrill sound of police whistles rent the air. It was total chaos, and yet, in its own inimitable way, it was home. 

The long, snaking line of the general "viewing queue"

We met our contact who turned out to be a policeman, in a dark little building compound. Earlier, we bypassed a police barrier which was outside the gate of the building with the help of our man who gave the guardian at the gate a knowing nod. Anything is possible here if you have “contacts”. The policeman took us under wing, explaining to us that it was going to get a little crowded, and that we’d have to stick with him to brave the madness. So far, while crowded, it had been extremely manageable, so we agreed, and set off. 

A walk through a back alley with our policeman

Nothing could have prepared us for the sight of the main “atrium” where the queues finally culminated in a giant mass of people, all crowded into one giant area cordoned off by volunteers and hundreds of policemen. The intrepid devotees that had been waiting for hours and hours could sense that they were close to their journey’s end, and were in a frenzy. The pushing and shoving was unbelievable, but they didn’t seem to feel it. Everyone was in a state of gripping excitement, and nothing, not the unbearable heat, nor the milling thousands, nor the policemen’s harsh attempts at disciplining the crowd seemed to damp their spirits. Cries of Morya Re! and Ganpati Bappa were being yelled out at regular intervals, and the crowd would respond in a unanimous roar. 

This, then, was the melee we found ourselves in the middle of. Our policeman contact took us past the barriers with more knowing nods, and we were at once, engulfed by the crowd. There was no independent movement here, it was a total free for all, where all you had to do was just stand and be pushed along in the wave of people that surrounded you. One could not afford to be offended by shoving, groping hands, or being pressed indecently close into other people. It was like being packed into a tin of (extremely sweaty) sardines- definitely not for the faint hearted. 

The main "atrium" with the teeming masses.

I found myself totally helpless against the sheer mindless force of the crowd. No one gave a thought to their well being, everyone’s one focus was centred on reaching the pandal, which as yet, I could not see. I was trying really hard not to drop my camera, which I had held in my hand, suspended over the crowd, not bothering to look where it was pointing, just recording anything I could get. I stepped on someone’s foot, and out of sheer habit looked up to apologize, and there it was. My first glimpse of the Lalbaugcha Raja, a tantalizing view of the glittering giant pandal, with the grand idol seated in the centre. 

My first glimpse of the pandal

My first thought was that while it was beautiful, of course, nothing was worth this hell we were going through just to see it for a few minutes. As we were herded closer, though, the magnetic power of the elephant god’s gaze was unmistakable, and I could see for a few moments why it commanded the blind devotion that it did from so many millions of devotees. Proud, beautifully painted and glittering from head to toe with jewels, the idol was truly one of the most magnificent ones I have ever seen. The hordes of fanatics around me were feverish with excitement, praying, chanting, and hurling garlands, money, and jewellery towards the pandal in a desperate attempt to have their offerings accepted by the priests and volunteers who were milling around the base of the idol.  

Approaching the pandal, being herded along by the crowd

It was a moment that made me see for myself the sheer power of faith in this country. The way people’s attentions were totally focused on nothing but the idol – not even on their own well-being or the pandemonium around them, the sycophantic chanting and clapping, the glow of religious fervour on the faces of those who had gotten to touch even the base of the pandal- sights which are common in media representations of Indian festivals, which until now, I had never witnessed before. 

For me, this was like a raw slice of reality, a hitherto unseen side of my city that totally jarred me. Long after we found our way out of the pandal, finally breathing free air again, long after we emerged from the uproar in the alley through which we had entered was I still numb, reeling from what I had just been through, but somehow, all the stronger from the experience. 

It was the first and probably the only time I will ever get to experience anything like this. But now, I think I finally realize what an important role faith plays in our community, and have somewhat comes to terms with it. Though I may criticize the zealots and not fully understand why they would go through all of this for a few moments of fulfilment – it seems to me that we're not always meant to understand. Sometimes, it’s important that we just have a little faith.  

On that philosophical note, I wish you all a very happy Ganesh Chaturti. Until the next time, Raja.

The Lalbaugcha Raja

Restaurant Week Recon - The Italian Job

I was rather excited to be visiting what was a new place, and at the Trident, no less! Restaurant Week’s array of options seems decidedly Oriental this year – so it was nice to get a confirmation for an Italian ristorante.

I’ve almost always eaten only at wedding functions here so I was pleased to be eating in one of their restaurants finally. We were a little early, so we sat around in the lounge, basking in the gold and white ambience that is typical of Trident hotels, enjoying the soft jazz music and eagerly awaiting the meal.

Botticino, Trident Bandra Kurla Complex

Service, as was expected, was extremely polite and well knit. We weren’t waiting long before we were ushered to our table, served water and menus, and a bread basket, which was the bane of the meal! But more on that later. I’ve heard that Botticino is supposed to be fancy, and boy did it live up to its reputation! It’s so fancy that they have little monogrammed butter paper for the thin slivers of butter they serve. Beat that!

 

My appetizer was a chicken roulade on a lightly toasted bun, accompanied with (a) wine soaked fig. Yes, fig, singular. My companion opted for something a little healthier, the pear and pecorino (we had no idea what this was – turns out it’s cheese) salad with balsamic dressing. Beautifully presented, very artistic.

Chicken roulade with wine soaked fig and caramelized shallots

The pear and pecorino salad was pretty good. But it wasn’t EXCELLENT, as we’d expected. In my opinion, it was a little too dry, though the accompanying balsamic dressing made it a little more interesting. The pears should have been cut a little smaller, we were making a horrendous mess while trying to cut it. I’d give it a 6.5/10.

Pear and pecorino salad with balsamic 

The chicken roulade was not up to the mark. It was prettily packaged – four “stumps” of chicken rolled around a single asparagus stick each, balanced on a grilled bun, with an artistic smattering of sauce and the chopped up wine soaked fig on the side. The sausage tasted like anything you’d get from a Venky’s cold storage, and the bun was slightly too burnt. The only good thing about it was the wine soaked fig, which was over before it started. 4/10.

Unfortunately the appetizers were too small to feel good about. A silly thing the restaurant seems to have done is combine the soup and salad course, giving you the option of choosing only one or the other. That’s not right – they should’ve allowed diners to choose both a soup and a salad! It just made us feel slightly cheated.

Before our mains arrived, we were served a little amuse bouche to whet our appetites– a slinky piece of watermelon with a teeeeensy little ball of feta cheese and a coriander leaf stuck artistically atop it. A good palate cleanser, tasty and refreshing. By this point, we were so hungry though that we were scarfing down the bread like we’d never seen food before. And maybe it’s a good thing we did.

  

Our mains were served to us. Mihir’s chilli encrusted red snapper with orange juice looked wholesome and interesting. My calamarata (seafood pasta) on the other hand, was one of the most disappointing LOOKING dishes I’ve ever seen. The idiot who invented humongous, larger than life plates should be roundhouse kicked in the face. My dish looked like an overturned derby hat, with a huuuuuge rim and a tiny little bowl for the pasta. I don’t know why any restaurant would want to use this- though there might be a decent portion in the bowl, it just looks instantly disappointing. Anyway, since I was slightly full with the bread I’d eaten, I didn’t complain too much.

Calamarata and seafood

The snapper was delicious – very nicely grilled and flavoured, though the orange sauce didn’t seem to complement it too well. Maybe that’s just me. My pasta was great – perfectly al dente and slathered in an extremely tasty red sauce, so what it lacked in quantity, it made up for in quality.

Chilli and fennel encrusted snapper in orange sauce

I thought our dessert was the best part of the meal. Tiramisu and berry sorbet and a selection of ice creams. Simple, yet satisfying. The tiramisu was creamy, rich, and had just the right tinge of coffee not to be overpowering. It was beautifully complemented by the sour-ish berry sorbet; both set the flavours off very nicely. My compliments to the chef.

Tiramisu and berry sorbet

The three little ice cream scoops were tasty too – stracciatella (I don’t speak Italian, but I think this means cookies and cream) is a you-can’t-go-wrong flavor, lemon cheesecake (zingy and refreshing) and sea salt and burnt sugar (salty caramel),  were all very tasty and went well together. Dessert clearly won this meal.

Stracciatella, Lemon Cheesecake and Caramelized Sea Salt ice cream

I’ll be honest here. Overall, it was a decent meal – the starters really killed it for me (in a bad way, for those who think “killer” is a good thing) and the main course, though tasty, would have not filled us had it not been for the bread basket. Dessert was good. Main takeaways for the restaurant:

1.  Soup and appetizers are not one course.
2.  Starter portions should be made decent if you don’t agree to point number 1.
3.  Throw away those giant plates like Frisbees and get normal ones please.

I’ll end here with an Italian proverb, one which Botticino would do well to learn by rote. Non si vive di solo pane. One does not live by bread alone.

Restaurant Week Recon - Shiro

For those of you who don't know already (an unlikely possibility given my penchant for food ranting) sushi is one of my all time favourites, and when it comes to sushi, Shiro tops my charts.

The minute you step through the giant wooden doors, you are transported into another world, where the towering Buddha statues, gentle sound of rippling water, and muted lighting only serve to contribute to the overall lounge-y and exotic ambience of the place, with its low seated tables and towering elevated dining section.

 

 

The menu selection for Shiro on the occasion of Restaurant Week had a decent number of alternatives – mostly for appetizers. Fortunately for us, and unfortunately for our server, who was thoroughly confused at the end of all the permutations and combinations of orders – being a large group, we got to try most of the menu.

Starting with the most important part of any meal of course – the drinks. I ordered a Shangai Sunset (melon vodka, cranberry and pineapple juice) which was pretty, yet tasted like it didn’t have a single drop of alcohol in it. Sad. My sister’s sparkling green apple cocktail was decidedly more potent.

Shangai Sunset + Green Apple Cocktail

Our meal commenced with a choice of soup. Steaming hot thai kwai (seafood broth) and a clear, light chicken chilli lime soup were our options. While the thai kwai was definitely a feel good dish, with all the sore throats going around, the clear winner was the exquisitely flavoured clear soup, which was extremely tasty, and a much lighter option.

Clear chilli lemon soup

It was agonizing to have to choose between the appetizers. Upon the recommendation of some foodie veterans who had been here for Restaurant Week last year, we decided to try the prawn with kaffir lime, the sesame encrusted sashimi, the chicken yakitori, and the spicy sushi.

Appetizer-thon:

Prawn with Kaffir lime : Interesting flavor, just a tad sweeter than I’d have liked but very good nonetheless. 7/10.

Prawn with kaffir lime

Chicken yakitori : Well marinated chicken pieces, the “burnt” barbecue dipping sauce was good enough to lick up after!  8/10

Chicken yakitori

Spicy maki / sushi : Beautifully presented, tasty enough, but I’ve been here before and this is definitely not their best sushi. 7/10

Spicy maki / sushi

Sesame encrusted sashimi : Fish so fresh you’d slap it. Absolutely delicious, tender and gorgeously flavoured, accompanied with a light wasabi mayo. The clear winner. 9.5/10

Sesame crusted sashimi with wasabi mayonnaise

For all the appetizers, the portions were just about enough to whet the appetite – though one might complain that they were just a leeeetle smaller than they should have been, the portions of main courses and desserts more than compensated.

Our choices for the main course were much more limited. The thai curry triumvirate (red, green, yellow) laksa (another seafood broth), or chicken in black bean sauce. All accompanied by steamed veggies and sticky rice. The vegetables were actually really gorgeously flavoured and not dry, as is the case with many Oriental places. A little more rice would have been nice.

Green thai curry with steamed vegetables

The green and red thai curry were both fantastic – mildly spiced, with an adequate amount of chicken, and steaming hot. My personal favourite was the chicken in black bean sauce, a very distinct and interesting flavor, which went well with the sweetish udon noodles that were served along with it. The laksa was tasty, but having just eaten seafood, I didn’t really feel like having too much of it.

We were surprisingly full after our main course. Methinks it was the sticky rice. Sneaky rice, usually has a way of filling you up before you realize you are! But being foodies (and chindhis) we decided to plod bravely on through dessert.

Now this was the only part of the meal which I found lackluster. The chocolate volcano was prettily presented, and had a very tasty liquid filling, but the cake itself was too thick and dry to enjoy properly. The coconut and pecan tart too, was too hard to bite into and tasted like coconut oil. The manager did come by to ask, so we told him so, and received a complimentary platter of “chocolate sushi” which was superb! Well worth a try when you’re here next.

Chocolate Volcano

Coconut Pecan Pie

 

Chocolate Sushi

Our overall experience was great – excellent service, though a little slow between courses, a decent selection, exquisite food and ambience. You remain, Shiro, one of my eternal favourites.

The Death of a Rainbow

It was a cloudy afternoon in Karjat. At around 4:00 p.m. we had woken up from a long nap on the terrace to the sight of glorious green mountains, shrouded in wispy grey clouds. The slightly muggy weather was just cool enough to be comfortable without any ventilation. The pure, fresh air we were breathing seemed cooling enough. It's always nice to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city, and just have nothing to do.

We trooped into the kitchen for an afternoon chai. It was dark inside the house, the sun's faint rays didn't make it past the pane-less windows. The contrast of the brightness outside with the dark interiors gave the scene a chiaroscuro-esque quality. The mud caked walls made the inside of the house seem much cooler, and I relished my hot cup of tea, enjoying the silence broken by an occasional chirp, basking in the pleasant aftermath of a restful nap.

That was when my eye caught a sudden splash of colour, breaking the still perfection of the monochromatic scene outside. I rushed towards the window, and beheld a glorious, vibrant rainbow, which seemed to begin just off the borders of our property, and soared across the sky to disappear into the verdure beyond our vision. It was magnificent, and we hurried outside to catch a better glimpse of it.

Proud, bright and gorgeous, our rainbow was so well defined that we could make out each of its hues. It arced across the sky, a beautiful ribbon of colours cutting through the grey clouds in the faint sunlight. I don't know if what they say about a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is true, but it was truly a magical moment, and the longer we looked at it, the more beautiful it appeared. 

We stood there for a good fifteen minutes, marveling at this unearthly beauty - Mother Nature at her finest. For a few minutes the rainbow was so bright that it appeared to somehow reflect in the grey canvas of the sky, giving the appearance of a colourful shadow that hovered behind it. My mind was soaring, my heart and soul were uplifted by the sight of it. It was a perfect moment.

As the evening grew long however, the brilliant hues slowly began to fade. Our lovely rainbow grew dimmer and dimmer, melting into the grey skies so gently you could barely make out when it disappeared. Like a soft sigh, the colours faded, and the arc glimmered away, becoming fainter and fainter, until all that was left of it was memory, an echo of a beautiful phenomenon. 

There was something infinitely precious and sad about that moment, but somehow, it gave me strength. The beauty we had just witnessed made me feel alive, aware of myself and our surroundings. I felt primal, human. It was indescribable - a very surreal feeling, and I don't know why it happened to affect me so. But the sudden rush of emotion pouring through me was almost overwhelming. I scanned the sky yearning for one last glimpse of our rainbow, but the moment had passed. 

The grey clouds covered the last vestiges of the sun, and we felt the first cool drops of a light drizzle patter down upon us. As we turned to go back into the house, a light monsoon breeze whispered past us, ruffling my hair.

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."

- Albert Einstein

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