Maroon 5. It does not matter if the restaurant serves Indian or Chinese or both. The faux leather upholstery was maroon. The sparkly table runners were to die for. The crockery (below a small vase for a rose) bore a maroon border. The server’s vest was maroon. The carpet started out red but faded over the years.
That amber glow. Lightbulbs in recessed niches, candlelit tables. This napkin fold was bright enough to see accordion, bishop or swan style. Even in dimly lit bars, it was possible to read the menu, look at your food and find your way back to the right table after washing your hands or having a smoke break.
A rationed menu. You will see them, neatly stacked in the corner service cabinet, a dozen leatherbound menus. And yet, a table of four will be given to only one, the father, so that he can order for the family and keep food within budget. Couple eating out? The men get the menu. Three people eating? Just one more.
Dad-level wordplay. Start: Start here. Vegetable main: From the vegetable market. Seafood: Specialty from the sea. Roti: Roti ki basket or (wait for it) Halke Phulki. Sweet: How sweet is it? Pure poetry.
Dressed dishes. No lung went into lung fungus soup (a thick sour-spicy seafood or chicken broth with vegetables). No daffodils were harmed in the making of Nargisi Kofta (named after the yellow-centered white flower it resembles when cut in half). There was no standard recipe for jalfreji (a stir-fry curry, whose name is Anglicized from the Bengali word jhal porheji, meaning spicy food). No one knows which nine gems make up the Navratri Korma for sure.
stretch. Soups can be split “one-two,” giving diners half a portion high. A fresh-lime soda is often considered “too sweet,” and watered down in two glasses for the same price. Freely chopped onions bulked up all the curries and sabzi. There was no children’s menu, but every kitchen provided a small plate of rice, yogurt and sugar to children free of charge.
Palate and Palate. Homemade palak has never produced such a bright green puree. None of the tikkas glowed so vividly red outside of commercial kitchens. Stir-fry components retain their shape and flavors, thanks to rapid high-heat cooking. Curious about the taste of a particular dish? It was (and still is) described as “medium spicy”.
Permit room. A VIP lounge of the pre-liberalisation era. Liquor rooms allowed the service of alcohol, but little else was allowed. They were the first sections to be air-conditioned (family areas are rarely billed). Waiters noted what regulars ordered, how they liked their stuffed pomfret or chatpata chana.
Playlist from the past. As the food arrives, let’s guess the name of an old film song softly playing instrumentally over the speakers. It sounded like Jagjit Singh, but was also the last. It may be sometime, let’s wait for the chorus. It has Venetian vibes, it must be Do Lafzon Ki Hai. Oh they’re playing them all again.
A warm farewell. The food is over. Everyone is too lazy to walk to the same wash basin they used before they started eating. “Sir, finger bowl?” Yes, please! And with it, the inevitable classist fallacy: “You know, some people think it’s for drinking. Hahahaha.”
From HT Brunch, April 29, 2023
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