I seldom haul my posterior down to SoBo. The commute has much to do with it. I hate (and I don't use the word loosely; indeed, I rarely use the word)...I hate commutes and being trapped in cars, especially in bumper to bumper traffic. And, then, there is the cloying Mumbai heat and humidity.
Net net -- I stick to places between Bandra and Lower Parel (LP because we're too cool and too lazy to type full names) as far as I can manage it. Travel beyond is generally for business purposes only.
That said, a lot of good food places are, unfortunately for me, located in SoBo. So when I realized that the weather was pleasant (and may not remain this way for too long) I decided to head down south for a dose of good food.
No company. Flying solo like Doc Halliday from Wyatt Earp. So I thought I'd hit up The Table and grab a few of the small plates.
Also, I'd read a fair bit of super positive press about La Folie and that was on my mind, though I don't really have a sweet tooth and don't care much for confections. But when someone in the know says something is exquisite, stellar, must-have, then I must have.
The Table did not work out because it was almost 2:45 pm by the time I got to Kala Ghoda and the kitchen there shuts at 3 pm (I know such things), and The Table isn't exactly a dosa diner where you drop in, eat, drop a chota Gandhi, and walk out. This place takes a lot of chota Gandhis, and often a few bada Gandhis too.
The Pantry. That was on my list.
So I walked past Rhythm House, and the blue synagogue (the restful cops in the sand-bag security box were happily having their Saturday fish-gravy-rice lunch; I mean...who would attack then, right?), KGC, Trishna, and got to The Pantry.
I think it's prettier on the outside than on the inside...this freshly painted white place, which has a very European feel to it (and we like that look-feel). It's mildly spiced.
Walking in, I realized that The Pantry may not be as small as a pantry, but it's not super-large either.
I was seated close to a wall with couples on either side of me. The man on my left was a large jovial man given to much innuendo (and provided much comic relief...may his tribe thrive and increase). The couple on my right was much quieter. Very Brit-stiff-upper-lip. Apparently, they didn't believe in talking while eating. They had an entirely meditative approach to their meal.
The menu comes up on one of those exam boards...you know the kind we took to school to write our tests? Ya, those. I ordered the lemongrass iced tea and agonized between the Croque Monsieur, Shepherd Pie, Pot Pie, and baked fish (betki) in a phyllo dough pastry (done like a Wellington). I let the man help me with the decision. He suggested Croque Monsieur, and that's what I ordered.
Killed time by flicking through the pictures on my cam and eavesdropping (and catching) my neighbor's naughty jokes. They were pretty good, but I'll try to keep this blog PG-13 compliant for some time.
The iced tea came in...in a glass that is a big brother version of a cutting chai glass. Lot of ice (it IS iced tea) and some tea to tag along. Generally, the tea was, well, mehh (with two hhs) just so you know I didn't care much for it.
I've had a TERRIBLE croque monsieur at Theobroma Bandra just 2 weeks back (and this monsieur almost croaked on it; bad joke) and I was already beginning to regret my choice. Idiot! You should have ordered the fish or the shepherd pie. Well.
5-10 mins in, the server started walking my way. From a distance, the dish looked promising. Mine? Not bad. Hmmm.
Imagine this (well, you're seeing the picture so not much to imagine)...I see this largish, thickish sandwich covered with beautiful melted gruyere, and the corners of the ham were peeking out from between the bread slices, and suddenly all was well in my world.
Both the tables on my sides gasped when the server put the plate down. Smelled good. Looked good. And what did I do? I exclaimed 'Lunch of Champions' and proceeded to take pictures to the point that our dutty-jokes-uncle noted that I had exceptional patience. He'd have jumped in by now and done unmentionable things with the sandwich. His words cannot be re-produced here verbatim or in gist.
So this sandwich monsieur has a healthy, tasty slice of ham (not thick, chewy), a pile of bechamel sauce on the inside, and a LOT of melted gruyere covering the sandwich. It is deeply, deeply satisfying. It reaches into the crevices of the soul and satisfies it too. The bread isn't soggy from the sauce, the cheese and sauce are not congealed or stringy. This makes for 'the angels are whistling sweet ditties of love inside my head' experience that is not jarred by stray distractions.
The portion is pretty right on. It's enough so I wouldn't mind sharing in a friend's pie, and then a bite or two of dessert after the sandwich. Epic stuff.
Dutty-jokes-uncle paid and left, as did the Brit desi couple to my right.
That's when I really looked around the place. The interiors are bright, warm, and pleasing to the eye. I can spend a rainy afternoon there. As can many Mac-bearing expats and Europeans/Americans visiting the city for business or pleasure for they seemed to be present at The Pantry in strength.
I'll be back with friends to try out their menu including their pulled pork sandwich, pot pie, and shepherd pie.
Half belly full and preparing for a sugary onslaught, I decided to walk around for a bit. I'd have slumped into a food induced coma without the walk. So off I went up to the Regal Circle, down Colaba Causeway, beyond Cusrow Baug, back up to Mondy's, to the Taj, and back along CS Road and the restaurant row to Kala Ghoda, and ready for La Folie.
--------------
La Folie is immediately by Trishna. It's a small spot with seating space for 8-10 patrons, a display area, and a kitchen in the back. Can't say they have a lot of place to expand within the current space, but I do hope they open another spot in Phoenix/LP. Not that I can afford such expensive sweet food very often, but it's nice to know uber stuff is close by.
Two couples were nibbling on the pastries when I got in. At ~250 bucks a pop, you do nibble on one of these delicacies. You don't deep-bite on it like it were an inexpensive mawa cake from Merwan's.
I got a nice table for myself and my precious bag with cam/lens. Bag placed, I recced the pretty display case. I may not have a sweet tooth, and pastries and desserts may not do for me what seafood and meats do, but I've been known to appreciate a well-made food that strays deep on the side of sweet.
The macaroons are twin flavored and I decided to start off with pistachio-apricot and orange-passion fruit (pretty certain I have the combinations right). The crust was light and crunchy and the filling creamy and beautifully flavored. Personally, I wouldn't mind a bigger punch of the fruit-element, which I thought a tad bit too mild, but they were good. Again, at 75 bucks a pop (plus tax-tip), most people don't just throw a few back and walk out. They savor em.
Just around then, two guys walked in and we took off, unexpectedly, on a Vit. D deficiency topic. Something to do with them getting a table close to the glass door and direct sunlight.
Long story short, quick camaraderie developed between the said people and we exchanged introductions, guffaws, quick stories, and jokes. And before long, they were offering me spoonfuls of the said confections (entremet, for the French, merci beaucoup). Reve Praline, to be more specific.
It was delicious! Textures and flavors did a small ballet on my tongue.
And another one, the name of which eludes me at the time of writing this entry.
On the recommendation of my new Russian friend, I ordered the 100% Chocolat for myself.
You know how some things (and people) look really pretty from a distance, and you walk close, and you realize that they are, well, stunning. They make you gasp. La Folie petit fours are works of art. Each last one of them. They make you gawk. It's hard to break into that beautiful top and do...
...this to one of em. I loved it. It looks small but it's such strong chocolat, that by the end of the piece, you're done with desserts if you're eating it alone.
L'Envie Violet.
I'd read reviews about the place and from the description, I knew it was the thing for me, and it really was just that. The colors and the beautifully mellow flavors of the black currant did it for my Mildly Spiced loving self.
It was my thing for the afternoon.
Look at it. Admire it. It looked that good and it tasted that good.
I'm no pastry chef to expound on how this is much better than what's available at some of the other joints in Mumbai or just how French butter and cream, Tahitian vanilla beans, and Spanish cherries make a noticeable difference. I don't know if it's more about the technique that Chef Patel has learned in Paris, but the effect is pretty dramatic.
This is good stuff.
I ended my evening on this beautiful note before heading home, a long trudge away.
Will I be back? Most likely with friends, yes.
Net net -- I stick to places between Bandra and Lower Parel (LP because we're too cool and too lazy to type full names) as far as I can manage it. Travel beyond is generally for business purposes only.
That said, a lot of good food places are, unfortunately for me, located in SoBo. So when I realized that the weather was pleasant (and may not remain this way for too long) I decided to head down south for a dose of good food.
No company. Flying solo like Doc Halliday from Wyatt Earp. So I thought I'd hit up The Table and grab a few of the small plates.
Also, I'd read a fair bit of super positive press about La Folie and that was on my mind, though I don't really have a sweet tooth and don't care much for confections. But when someone in the know says something is exquisite, stellar, must-have, then I must have.
The Table did not work out because it was almost 2:45 pm by the time I got to Kala Ghoda and the kitchen there shuts at 3 pm (I know such things), and The Table isn't exactly a dosa diner where you drop in, eat, drop a chota Gandhi, and walk out. This place takes a lot of chota Gandhis, and often a few bada Gandhis too.
The Pantry. That was on my list.
So I walked past Rhythm House, and the blue synagogue (the restful cops in the sand-bag security box were happily having their Saturday fish-gravy-rice lunch; I mean...who would attack then, right?), KGC, Trishna, and got to The Pantry.
I think it's prettier on the outside than on the inside...this freshly painted white place, which has a very European feel to it (and we like that look-feel). It's mildly spiced.
Walking in, I realized that The Pantry may not be as small as a pantry, but it's not super-large either.
I was seated close to a wall with couples on either side of me. The man on my left was a large jovial man given to much innuendo (and provided much comic relief...may his tribe thrive and increase). The couple on my right was much quieter. Very Brit-stiff-upper-lip. Apparently, they didn't believe in talking while eating. They had an entirely meditative approach to their meal.
The menu comes up on one of those exam boards...you know the kind we took to school to write our tests? Ya, those. I ordered the lemongrass iced tea and agonized between the Croque Monsieur, Shepherd Pie, Pot Pie, and baked fish (betki) in a phyllo dough pastry (done like a Wellington). I let the man help me with the decision. He suggested Croque Monsieur, and that's what I ordered.
Killed time by flicking through the pictures on my cam and eavesdropping (and catching) my neighbor's naughty jokes. They were pretty good, but I'll try to keep this blog PG-13 compliant for some time.
The iced tea came in...in a glass that is a big brother version of a cutting chai glass. Lot of ice (it IS iced tea) and some tea to tag along. Generally, the tea was, well, mehh (with two hhs) just so you know I didn't care much for it.
I've had a TERRIBLE croque monsieur at Theobroma Bandra just 2 weeks back (and this monsieur almost croaked on it; bad joke) and I was already beginning to regret my choice. Idiot! You should have ordered the fish or the shepherd pie. Well.
5-10 mins in, the server started walking my way. From a distance, the dish looked promising. Mine? Not bad. Hmmm.
Imagine this (well, you're seeing the picture so not much to imagine)...I see this largish, thickish sandwich covered with beautiful melted gruyere, and the corners of the ham were peeking out from between the bread slices, and suddenly all was well in my world.
Both the tables on my sides gasped when the server put the plate down. Smelled good. Looked good. And what did I do? I exclaimed 'Lunch of Champions' and proceeded to take pictures to the point that our dutty-jokes-uncle noted that I had exceptional patience. He'd have jumped in by now and done unmentionable things with the sandwich. His words cannot be re-produced here verbatim or in gist.
So this sandwich monsieur has a healthy, tasty slice of ham (not thick, chewy), a pile of bechamel sauce on the inside, and a LOT of melted gruyere covering the sandwich. It is deeply, deeply satisfying. It reaches into the crevices of the soul and satisfies it too. The bread isn't soggy from the sauce, the cheese and sauce are not congealed or stringy. This makes for 'the angels are whistling sweet ditties of love inside my head' experience that is not jarred by stray distractions.
The portion is pretty right on. It's enough so I wouldn't mind sharing in a friend's pie, and then a bite or two of dessert after the sandwich. Epic stuff.
Dutty-jokes-uncle paid and left, as did the Brit desi couple to my right.
That's when I really looked around the place. The interiors are bright, warm, and pleasing to the eye. I can spend a rainy afternoon there. As can many Mac-bearing expats and Europeans/Americans visiting the city for business or pleasure for they seemed to be present at The Pantry in strength.
I'll be back with friends to try out their menu including their pulled pork sandwich, pot pie, and shepherd pie.
Half belly full and preparing for a sugary onslaught, I decided to walk around for a bit. I'd have slumped into a food induced coma without the walk. So off I went up to the Regal Circle, down Colaba Causeway, beyond Cusrow Baug, back up to Mondy's, to the Taj, and back along CS Road and the restaurant row to Kala Ghoda, and ready for La Folie.
--------------
La Folie is immediately by Trishna. It's a small spot with seating space for 8-10 patrons, a display area, and a kitchen in the back. Can't say they have a lot of place to expand within the current space, but I do hope they open another spot in Phoenix/LP. Not that I can afford such expensive sweet food very often, but it's nice to know uber stuff is close by.
Two couples were nibbling on the pastries when I got in. At ~250 bucks a pop, you do nibble on one of these delicacies. You don't deep-bite on it like it were an inexpensive mawa cake from Merwan's.
I got a nice table for myself and my precious bag with cam/lens. Bag placed, I recced the pretty display case. I may not have a sweet tooth, and pastries and desserts may not do for me what seafood and meats do, but I've been known to appreciate a well-made food that strays deep on the side of sweet.
The macaroons are twin flavored and I decided to start off with pistachio-apricot and orange-passion fruit (pretty certain I have the combinations right). The crust was light and crunchy and the filling creamy and beautifully flavored. Personally, I wouldn't mind a bigger punch of the fruit-element, which I thought a tad bit too mild, but they were good. Again, at 75 bucks a pop (plus tax-tip), most people don't just throw a few back and walk out. They savor em.
Just around then, two guys walked in and we took off, unexpectedly, on a Vit. D deficiency topic. Something to do with them getting a table close to the glass door and direct sunlight.
Long story short, quick camaraderie developed between the said people and we exchanged introductions, guffaws, quick stories, and jokes. And before long, they were offering me spoonfuls of the said confections (entremet, for the French, merci beaucoup). Reve Praline, to be more specific.
It was delicious! Textures and flavors did a small ballet on my tongue.
And another one, the name of which eludes me at the time of writing this entry.
On the recommendation of my new Russian friend, I ordered the 100% Chocolat for myself.
You know how some things (and people) look really pretty from a distance, and you walk close, and you realize that they are, well, stunning. They make you gasp. La Folie petit fours are works of art. Each last one of them. They make you gawk. It's hard to break into that beautiful top and do...
...this to one of em. I loved it. It looks small but it's such strong chocolat, that by the end of the piece, you're done with desserts if you're eating it alone. L'Envie Violet.
I'd read reviews about the place and from the description, I knew it was the thing for me, and it really was just that. The colors and the beautifully mellow flavors of the black currant did it for my Mildly Spiced loving self.
It was my thing for the afternoon.
Look at it. Admire it. It looked that good and it tasted that good.
I'm no pastry chef to expound on how this is much better than what's available at some of the other joints in Mumbai or just how French butter and cream, Tahitian vanilla beans, and Spanish cherries make a noticeable difference. I don't know if it's more about the technique that Chef Patel has learned in Paris, but the effect is pretty dramatic.
This is good stuff.
I ended my evening on this beautiful note before heading home, a long trudge away.
Will I be back? Most likely with friends, yes.
Hauling posteriors in bumper to bumper traffic is not good but looks like the food was well worth the sweat and grime.
ReplyDeleteIt was pretty pleasant that day. Not so bad at all. And I used the train to avoid b-2-b traffic. The best way to get to SoBo :D
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