|
Fresh Memories of that First Bite
|
|
….. breakfast haunts that not only found favour with our tongues
and tummies, but have stuck on as fond memories
|
|
For the love of
‘idlis’
Madras Cafe and Ramashray are as legendary as their breakfast
queues. But if you are waiting, you may as well join the bipedal one on the
other side of Matunga Circle, outside Idli House. I’ve devoured many a
morning meal tucking into their tender idlis and equally soft mudhos (idli
batter steamed in cone-shaped moulds and served wrapped in banana leaf) with
steaming hot sambar and lip-smacking chutneys. The variety—kanchipuram,
pepper, masala kakdi, vegetable—of idlis is the biggest draw of the nearly
bus-sized eatery, but what attracts me most to Idli House is their seasonal
jackfruit idli, which has to be tried for its lush flavour. The quick and
no-frills service—a squeezy bottle of coconut oil, the mulga and limbda podi
containers are rapidly passed between the three tables—means you have to chew
your food quickly and move on to make space for others. Don’t forget to order
the kaapi before you leave though. Idli House is also that rare breed of
establishment that penalises wastage—extra sambar, if not finished, is
charged.
—Marisha Karwa
Of divine inspirations
It was during my early days in Mumbai. And as early days in a
new city go, I was perpetually curious. One morning, I found myself
out-of-bed and sitting at the popular Colaba patisserie-cum-cafe, Theobroma
(Food of the Gods), reccommended by a friend. Before long, it became an off
day-morning ritual that involved allowing hot mayo or gooey chocolate sauce
to dribble down the chin sans guilt, making the week's horrors fade away. The
tiny joint was a mish-mash of colour and cheer, what with spiral trays of
rainbow-hued muffins, red velvet and chocolate-oreo cupcakes sitting pretty
on the counter. The aroma of chicken BLTs, egg Florentine, bacon with fries
or pancakes served with maple syrup seduce you from the pantry. My favourite
though, is Kejriwal, or chilly-cheese toast with fried eggs. I'd first
ordered it because of the name and over countless repeats concluded that it's
probably a sly reference to the “fried” state of mind that political figures
like Kejriwal may frequently find themselves in. Either way, it's delicious.
Also worth the indulgence are their butter croissants, New York style baked
cheese cake, chocolate eclair and lemon and mint iced tea (to wash away the
health-sins). It took me 40 minutes of local train travel from Santacruz, and
an immense reserve of will, to travel to Colaba at the end of a six-day
working week. All worth it. Every bit(e) of it!
—Sohini Das Gupta
The other ‘kulchewala’
It’s not uncommon for clubbing to give way to house parties for
those who’ve left college and been in the workforce for a few years. A few
years ago, after one such house party, followed by a sleepover, the friend
hosting us decided it’s wiser to go to Sainath Dhaba, RCF Colony, in Chembur
than have us raid her kitchen in the morning. That was my first time to the
famed kulche wala. Greedy me, couldn’t stop at one, I called for three (aloo,
cheese and paneer served with finely chopped onions and chole). I even hopped
over to the adjacent Hardev Kripa and packed an aloo-cheese one for home!
Since then I’ve driven there from South Mumbai with friends and family time
and again, just for the kulcha. While Sainath is good, what keeps me going
back is Hardev even though it appears less hygienic. My mouth waters each
time I watch them stuff the dough, pat it flat and stick it to the
traditional tandoor. Their kulcha is crisper with more char and more
flavoursome filling. Ready to go?
—Pooja Bhula
Cheese me, please me
Gaylord was one breakfast haunt, our girl gang would walk into
with pyjamas, unkempt hair and unbrushed teeth, nursing a hangover or after
nightlong preparations for college festivals. With lethargic grace, we’d
saunter into the bakery section and pile our trays with whatever looked most
cheesy, crusty and greasy from the assortment of warm bread offerings in
wicker baskets. We’d crash on the wrought-iron chairs, take in the peripheral
shrubbery, call for chai and attack our chosen manna in absolute
silence. Halfway through steaming masala chai, we’d come to our senses,
boiling down to the same observation each time: we look like trash, but still
blend well with the Gaylord crowd. And then burst into giggles. Nibbling on
cheese chilli sticks, we’d talk about shopping, life after a decade and who
we were dating. Last week, when I visited again, but for the beautiful chairs
getting an ugly coat of green, nothing else had changed! The same cheese
cross baskets, chicken or mushroom buns, chocolate croissants, chicken
sausage puffs or plaits, pizza slices, biscotti... were all there. Strangely,
I’ve never explored their desserts, having stuck to chocolate, blueberry and
cranberry muffins. Masala chai is now replaced by jasmine tea, every sip
rinsing the remnants to welcome a new greasy morsel. Gaylord will always
remind me of grease and friendship.
—Ornella D’Souza
Deceptive looks,
delicious food
Sarvi at the corner of Bellasis Road that leads to Mazgaon looks
like a decrepit landmark, but inside the restaurant is a thriving hive. My
favourite time is morning, when you will find office goers, sons of soil, the
labour force, cabbies, bookies and foodies with heads bent in total focus on
their plates. Breakfast here is fine sliced, and regulars know precisely when
you should be here. Mouth watering kheema pao washed down with chai? Pre-dawn
to about 9 pm. Dal fry and crispy roti? Yummy and to die for! This is for the
lazier lot who wake up at nine and fly down before it all vanishes by 11am.
The regular ‘lunch’ menu starts showing up by noon. By then, most of us are
out, smacking our lips and burping contentedly.—Amy Fernandes
Dining with Mario
Miranda
Suzette, Indigo and Theobroma cliques can pooh-pooh this pick
all they want, but I stand my ground. Indeed, you'll get better everythings
elsewhere: kheema gotala at Good Luck Cafe, kheema-pav at Kyani & Co. and
homegrown charm at Prakash, that quintessentially-Dadar institution.
But like American scribe John Gunther (sorry, no Rumi or
Confucius here) once said, all happiness depends on a leisurely breakfast.
And nowhere have I been happier breaking bread—iterally and
metaphorically—than in dear old Mondy's. Some meals are less about the food
and more about memories. Not that Mondy's falls short in the former. Its
old-fashioned English breakfasts, meat cuts and pork sausages, pancake rolls
(pancakes stuffed with honey and bananas or honey, apple and cinnamon) and
masala omelettes are the stuff of Bombay legend. These were around much
before other eateries jumped on the bandwagon and tried to steal Mondy's
thunder—to no avail. What it lacked in the hype (looking at you, Cafe
Leopold) quotient, it made up for with that timeless, in-house jukebox
belting ’80s power ballads, freewheeling conversations and works of art in
both coffee mugs (if you were lucky) and on its walls (You can gaze upon a
Mario Miranda caricature for the nth time and never tire of it). And so it
was that Mondy's became our Mecca while in college, a go-to for discussing
projects, being catty about professors and dousing ourselves in teen angst
over beer and BLT sandwiches.
If Mondy's was a person, it would probably be a gamely,
sometimes-plastered and unpretentious misfit.
Just the kind of company I love.
—Roshni Nair
Fix it with beer
Nothing beats devouring a plate of fried eggs, bacon, toast and
freshly brewed beer after a 10-km run. And I did just that last September at
Doolally, in Bandra, one Sunday morning. I'm a big fan of the traditional
English breakfast, and the restaurant had a discounted beer breakfast,
Breakfast for Champions, for Rs 250. Who can resist that price? I remember
walking into the restaurant soaked in sweat, and was pleasantly surprised to
see some other runners having breakfast there as well. I opted for the
traditional English breakfast and an oatmeal stout. While I took time to finish
the beer (super refreshing), I wolfed down the the food. The hash brown
practically melted in my mouth. Sadly, I've not gone back to savour this
breakfast, but writing this tempts me to wake up a little early on Sunday
just to enjoy this again, after a good run. For the lovely beer accompanying
the petit dejeuner, I'm willing to pay its new price, Rs 500 too!
—Jayadev Calamur
|
DNA7FEB16
No comments:
Post a Comment