Stone Water Grill: The drama that wasn't

Context

I've waited to visit Stone Water Grill for a really long time, well, almost a year or two by now.
Why? They're not open for lunch, which is a big damper, then there was a longish phase when they were open only for weekend dinners. Add in the fact that I have been an infrequent camper in Pune in the last year or two. All of it added up to the fact that SWG stayed firmly on the 'must eat there' list.

I'm a huge fan of Riyaaz Amlani restaurants (and a frequent flier at Tasting Room, SHD) so read the review in context.


Finally, the Mommy B'day came up, and she really wanted to try the place so the relevant reservations were made for Sunday dinner, the night prior to the big day. Some last minute developments had me changing the plan (and reservations) from Sunday to Tuesday (they're closed on Monday; Pune thing). Evidently, it is necessary to have reservations in place. It's jam packed, or so we were told.

Where is it?

For the folks that know their Pune food places...it's right behind the Koregaon Park Hard Rock Cafe. That simple. For folks that don't, well you drive down N Main St all the way to the end, above and beyond the bridge, beyond Euriska, and just when you think the Earth ends in 100m, you turn left into a dark lane. At the end are HRC and Stone Water Grill.

The Space

It's an impressively large space by Pune standards. By Mumbai standard, you could fit a full mall in there.
We walked through the parking lot, then alongside a manicured grassy lot, past the glassy Hard Rock Cafe, and finally through the SWG gate, down steps and into a beautifully styled outdoor 'night club'. It's an expansive space, and a Pune party birdie tells me that the entire space is packed and heaving come weekend night.

It's swanky. No more, no less. Given it was a weekday, and a Tuesday (most likely a no-booze, no-non-veg day) in God-fearing Pune the space was very sparsely populated. A few outdoor spots were taken, mostly IT MNC types treating guests to good wine.

We were directed to the indoor dining space. Impressive thus far. As we walked in, what struck me was just how empty the restaurant was. There was just one group of eight and all else was barren. As much as I hate crowded, noisy places, I'm equally uncomfortable with a completely empty fine dine.

We got a table at the vertex of the 'L' shaped restaurant.

A card holder declared that the table was reserved for my party of three. Uncommon, but nice touch.

It was the first (and well-neigh last) of very few nice touches.

Raison D'Etre (The Food)

Appetizers

I'd looked up the menu online and it looked very appealing so I had my heart set on a few things. Even as I was pacing through the menu, the good folks brought us a quick amuse bouche -- a light crumb-fried cheese ball on a wee bed of puree with a shotglass of a soup that I am unable to describe. It was nice but that's all I'd be able to say there. A bit...inert.

Next up were bread sticks with beurre (I think it was miso, though I could be wrong) and bread with olive oil. Here, I'd have to say that the beurre had a nice hit and the warm focaccia was one of the better breads I've had in town.
One hit, one miss, one comme ci comme ca. See?

Next, some stuff we wanted wasn't available so we went with...

Bacon Wrapped Quail (with fruit chutney, onion roesti, and rosemary oil)

Of the 3-4 nicely frenched quail portions on the bone that showed up, just one-two had the bacon blanket while the other two were a bit...naked, and lacked the amazing fatty flavor that bacon brings to any dish. The onion roesti had good flavor from the caramelization but the meat itself, the central showpiece, lacked the mouthful feel that I love about meat.
Sounded wonderful, the dish on the menu, but a Mildly Spiced Fail for me.

Crumb fried basa with green chutney

This was recommended to us from the bar menu. Now, SWG is a fine dine and basa is an ordinary fish not really worthy of finding so many fish spots on the menu.

The crumb coating and the green 'sandwich chutney' so overpowered the fish, that I couldn't tell if the innards were, in reality, another inert substance, like say, cardboard.

I'd decided not to order basa, did so against my better instinct, and decided not to repeat my mistake. This order is just fine after you've had many drinks and the brain (and tongue) are numbed to thoughtful degustation, but in our situation, it was a MS Fail.

Seared Lemongrass and Paprika Prawns

The shift from ordinary to the sublime was a matter of one dish.
The dish showed up as five prawns served individually on ceramic serving spoons. Each prawn was seared just right, with nary a sign of overcooking, and covered with a beautifully punchy and flavorsome sauce.
My Dad's not an old hand with seafood, and yet he jumped for a second go at the prawns. That's how good it was. I could have downed just that full set of prawns and walked out a much happier man.
A MS Big Win.

Soy Roast Duck and Water Chestnut (with medicinal herbs)

Me Dad asked me what I'd ordered next, and froze and frowned when I said 'duck salad'. For him, acceptable 'nonveg food' includes chicken and the rare mutton dish. Not for him the uncommon birds on his plate.
The salad is served up beautifully in a heavy stone bowl and it is genuinely a sight to behold, but the eating experience is a bit of fall from grace.

The duck itself was nicely done but there was such a huge portion of clumpy, mature dill through the entire dish that every forkful felt like I were chomping on the forest floor of a pine tree forest. The textural experience is not the least bit gratifying and the strong flavors of the dill kill the mellower flavors of the duck and other elements alike.

Miss the dill, and the salad is fine, but with the huge clumps of dill, it's a MS Fail.

The Mains

Carbonara Inspired Smoked Bacon Risotto

We bypassed the pizzas and burgers to get the risotto, and figured that we couldn't go wrong with a dish that had bacon in it, and right we were.

The carbonara inspired risotto had everything a carbonara dish should -- egg (thankfully, without any eggy smell), cheese, bacon and black pepper, and done really well. I'm not a big fan of an authentic toothy al-dente risotto. I like my risotto a bit more well done, and this baby was just right for me. The bacon goodness made it a very satisfying dish to devour. If you're going to pile in so much fat and carb into your body, it might as well be epic.
A MS Epic Win.

We veered and careened between multiple options for the final entree but were advised to stick with pig and we landed on the Whiskey Maple BBQ Pork Belly with Dauphinoise Potatoes.

The potatoes were exquisite and you could have convinced me that the potatoes were indeed pork fat. Carbs have seldom tasted so good. Good flavor on the pork belly as well, but I found the meat rather chewy. Needing to muscle on the knife to cut a piece confirmed my doubt. Give me braised pork belly any day. The chewiness of the meat pulled down a win dish.
A MS Disappointment.

The Dessert

'Malai Coconut' Panna Cotta

I quite love coconut in its myriad forms - dessicated, malai, in soups, in curries, and hence I assumed (rather wrongly) that a coconut panna cotta would work wonders for me.

I love my Western desserts smooth and I found the bite of the coconut and the strong flavor a distraction. Also, the kaffir lime gastrique was a bit too weak (compared to the punchier gastriques, compotes, and reductions in peer restaurants in the Big City 160 km away) forcing the base panna cotta to speak for itself, which it did not do forcefully enough.
A MS Fail for me.

A tad disappointed and desperate to get one more win, I ordered The Dessert Taster and save the reasonable hazelnut dacoise, the other elements, pista crusted passion roll, mango mousse, and orange gateau did not stand up to be counted. They might as well have been dessert elements in a less refined buffet spread restaurant.
A MS Epic Fail.

The Experience (Ambience & Service)

I believe that when the ambience is reasonable and the food stellar, the service can sneak by without being noticed. But when the restaurant is empty, the conversation lean, and the food fluctuating wildly...that's when the dings and dents in the service begin to show up.

Whether it was needing to look around for water glass refill on multiple occasions (big no-no) or inability to connect with the wait staff and express the kind of food I was looking for or a seeming failure to get confident recommendations that worked, and even a bit of language/accent barrier (uncommon)...service was not up to scratch.

During the first reservation and the subsequent change, I'd mentioned that I was coming in for my Ma's B'day. I don't need free cake but most high quality restaurants know how to add just the right touch (a greeting from the staff/maitre d', a flower, a small message piped on our paid-for dessert plate) to make the occasion special.

Here, there was not even the slightest hint that my event mention had even registered, and for me that's a fail on the service front.

What could be a wonderful spot for a romantic dinner or even a fun family dinner, in this empty cavernous space, took a downward plunge in terms of overall experience.


Will I be back?

Not immediately, but I think I'll return at some point.

Feedback for the restaurant:

The menu reads stellar on paper, but on many occasions, it's not translating into a great tasting meal. A bit of 'Lost in Translation'.

Meal Mechanics and Trajectories

I eat out a reasonable bit...possibly more than I should, but much less than I want to. And, I'm picky.
I don't like my food too spicy (or even moderately spicy by the regular desi standards), or too oily or too 'loud', which cuts out most food places.

So, your fav place that adds Amul chijj on their Chandigarh or Noida made pasta? Ya, that place doesn't work. Heck, store-bought pasta doesn't work.

Or that cheap-ass pijja place where the melted cheese ends up being as stringy my grandfather's pajama draw-strings. Ya. That's a ding too.

Or the Continental food places that drown every dish under a chijj sauce and the fish is stale. There ought to be some way to legally force their owners to eat in-house food for every meal.

Or the greasy noodle place with noodles floating in oil with a few decaying bits of broccoli and wilted zucchini breaking the monotony and adding the healthy touch.

Or the sushi place where the nigri is topped by a carpaccio thin slice of fish that was caught a week ago. 

Or the place that serves authentic Marathi food, and also adds on Chinese and Punjabi dishes to their menu. That doesn't work either. MSG is a no-no. Poison powder.

Or the Punjabi place that uses a single mother sauce for all dishes from paneer tikka masala to chicken do-pyaza to mutton rogan josh. And they overcook the protein so much that if Matt Preston were to taste their food, he'd look the cook in the eye and then stab himself in the heart with his fork.

NONE OF THESE PLACES WORK FOR ME!


Now, once you've finished calling me a snob and we get through the screening analysis, we have filtered out a good 97-99% of food places in Mumbai. What we are left with is a small selection of places that can, in theory, give me a decent meal. Maybe.
Admittedly, some of these places have many hit-or-miss dishes so a good experience is a matter of luck and deliberate planning and ordering.

Over the last four years of eating out in Mumbai (and before that, in many cities in the US), I have realized that meal experiences have physics-like or statistics-like patterns and distributions.

1) Straight Bad, Through and Thru - You can use your fancy filters, read reviews, ask food-lover friends that eat out a lot, but fate always likes a good laugh and you'll always have a missable wedding reception to attend or a frenemy with an evil design or an uncle that knows of your food love and wants to show you a hidden gem (that a niece or office junior has pointed out) and he will drag you there and the only pluses you'd walk out with are a) Full belly, b) Hopefully, at least a reasonable catch up chat with the friend/uncle, and c) A superior 'I told you this place is shit' smirk.

With the right attitude, you can keep these soul-sapping experiences to a minimum. You know the good places, if this place is not on that list, don't go. Life is too short to consume dirty, ugly, and tasteless calories.

2) As Average as an Average Can Get - Similar to Situation #1, you'll have another friend and another uncle who swears by this place close to his medical college or near his home that he'll tell you makes the best goddamn food of some particular type/cuisine and he wants you to come and attest to its awesomeness. After all, what place does not need my benediction?

And you'll go there, hesitant, fearful, hopeful, and the dishes begin to pile in.

The owner knows your friend/uncle and backslaps him and reminds him of the house and the car and the son's iPhone the friend/uncle has paid for.

And your friend/uncle folds his sleeves and dives in, and soon ooohs and aaahs emanate from the other side of the table and lines like 'See, didn't I tell you? This is heaven' or 'I want to eat exactly this meal before I die', and all you can do is feign some enthusiasm because your taste buds, like an angry spouse, are angrily muttering that the food is ordinary (at best, and horrifyingly bad, at worst) and 'How could you?!'. That, it is not the least bit satisfying, and is far far far from having you utter ooohs and aaahs. And, like a tied and gagged thug that's being given the maharaja-grade third degree experience, you know there is no recourse for complaint. You can't trot back home and write a moan-full blog entry about the food's ordinariness.  There is no vent. No outlet. You will take it like a man.

Indeed, you would likely end up lying to the friend/uncle about how good the food was, and the punishing scar of that white lie will be stamped on your food-soul, forever. Don't you think you can float 6 inches above the ground, you liar. You lied because you wanted to be liked.

3) Cibus interruptus (food version of coitus interruptus) - This is an interesting experience that I've had with a few people, but more so with my Dad.

It's simple, really. I do all the diligence to find a good food place that would make me (and the fam) seriously happy, then we do the commute, and sometimes the wait for our table. I order a beer and a few appetizers while I study the menu some more.
Two-three appetizers come in, the chilled beer makes the Daddy super happy.
Koliwada prawns disappear as does the bombil, and ZAP! The Slim Daddy goes 'OK! That's it. I'm done. Can't eat any more.'

HUH? Did we travel all this distance in Mumbai traffic for two small appetizers? Slim Daddy shrugs, 'I'm a small eater. What part of that did you not know?' And no wild horses and Rambha-Urvashi mains or other-worldly desserts will force this Vishwamitra into submission.

One measly main between the Ma and me, and the meal comes to a premature end.

PS: A few girl friends stand accused here as well, but it's safer to name me Papa since he'll never read my blog. No harm, no foul.

4) Simple Harmonic Motion (or Kabhi Uppar Kabhi Neeche) oscillator aka 'Hits n Misses Galore' - This is your standard experience in a Mumbai fine dine, cuisine and price point no bar. Go to any restaurant as part of a group and order a bunch of appetizers, a bunch of mains, and another bunch of desserts, and I promise you that your food experience will wildly oscillate between ho-hum and 'oh, wow!', between the ridiculous and the sublime.

A likely scenario is where a beautifully set platter of pork ribs or prawns or fries would come in, and I'd be busy getting the perfect shot; somebody is insolent enough to steal 'just one, ya!' and it tastes good, oooohs and aaahs, and before I've finished checking if I got a good shot on my dSLR, and the food's gone!
Or someone has left me a crummy half piece. Truly an example of 'you snooze, you lose'.

Or the other way around, and the food on the dish is ordinary, and people know it's been a mistake ordering it, and they'd steal a quick mournful glance at it but wouldn't shovel a fork-full into their bleedy hungry mouths.

For every mind-melting hit that makes your heart soar, there is a miss diss that lands you hard on your ass. It's a jarring journey. But it will be your reality if you eat out often enough. So, buckle up.

5) (Not a) Happy Ending - There was this wonderful sign outside a 'desserts only' place close to UCLA (in Los Angeles) that read 'Life's too short; eat desserts first', and it strangely resonated with me since I'm not a big lover of sweet stuff. I find it unappealing to follow the forceful convention of the appetizers --> mains --> dessert routine.

Why must I have my food in that order? I prefer the lingering taste of savory on my tongue at the end of a meal. Can I please get my dessert first? We can move to the tuna tartare and the ribs and end the meal with some exquisite John Dory or barra or halibut.
No? Why not? It bothers you? It bothers the restaurant manager?

At other times, I've ordered a trusted loved dessert only to be sorely disappointed, and as Nobel Laureate Dan Kahneman will tell you, your entire experience is almost as good (or as bad) as the way it ended. Then, I'm back to ordering a savory dish to end on the right note. It is a tiring exercise for people with a food-soul.

6) The Meal That Soars - The significantly uncommon experience is one where I breeze in and get the perfect table. There are no kitty parties, no cranky children, no leaking roofs, no high-roller parties. I get a knowledgable and pleasant guy or gal to wait on my table. She gets what kind of food me (and my company) like. She knows the menu inside out. She's tasted it and has recommendations and she throws you a lifeline by saying she'd take a dish back if you don't like it. She knows just when to linger and chat food and she knows when to leave me alone with my company.
The ambience is great because it's raining outside (or more rarely, it's Mumbai winter), I don't have pending work calls, course after course floats to the table billowing pleasant aroma, is heart-wrenchingly pretty to look at, and tastes even better.
Ne'er a slip. Every course timed to perfection. The chef and his staff on-song, their attention focussed on satisfying my every gustatory and food-soul need.

Flavors, textures, aromas flit in and out, entice, enamor, seduce, and disappear. The company is great. The conversation and laughter bubbling...like a brook one moment, and bursting like The Old Faithful another.
I can honestly say 'I want my last meal to be exactly like this'.

This...this is not common. I wish it were, but it's not.


I am sure I have missed many different patterns, and I want you tell me what I've missed.

And I want to hear about your experiences, even as I swim across the Sea of Mediocrity trying to find the Islands of Excellence and the meal that will set my food-soul free for at least a week.

From this post to the next...

Hakkasan, Bandra: The Story of an Oasis

A couple of years back I'd heard about the arrival of the Michelin star twins from London, Hakkasan and Yauatcha. A part of me (the spinal level reaction part) said, "Let's go and eat!" The more thoughtful part figured that a Michelin star means I'd blow my monthly 'eat out' budget on a single meal, and if I didn't love it then I'd be an unhappy camper for a full month. So, I held on.

Come Restaurant Week India (go #RWI15), and I figured it was time to tick entries off the must-visit list.

Come meeting time with a doctor friend, I suggested that we meet up over lunch. A bit of a stranger to fine dine restaurants, he jumped in gamely. His motto? #ZindagiNaMilegiDobara #KarLoMajaa #DineFine.

Though the slot was for 1pm, we requested them to move it to 1:30 pm (what doctor can really plan out his not-so-punctual desi patients around fancy restaurant schedule needs) and they agreed gamely. Restaurants can be haughty about such things so the flexibility is appreciated. A small win, yay!


Reached the address, saw the Hakkasan sign, entered the building, threw in my name (was on the list, yay!), and got into the elevator. And then?
Hakkasan Blue happens to you. It's an elevator to a different world, just like it were a sci-fi movie.

A slight out-of-mind, out-of-body experience as you walk down the corridor, dark and dim but with Hakkan Blue lighting. You enter the restaurant and it's a serene, dark, thoughtfully recess-lit oasis. My oasis was jarred a bit by a 10-15 strong kitty + b'day party at the peak of chatter but I found the Zen in me to drown out the cacophony.

Most of the restaurant was empty. Heck, this is what a fancy spa should look like. The waveform design on the padded walls was soothing. The Hakkasan Blue lights breaking the dark were soothing.

The not-too-cushy seating arrangement was comfortable.
It's what a thoughtful designer had conjured up.

Some patient had further delayed my friend's arrival so I discussed the menu option with the good man taking our orders.

The FOOD experience~~~

V arrived just as the mock duck salad was coming in and he took in the ambience with a bit of a body blow. He sunk into the seat and rested his head back and sighed.

The mock duck salad was a great start to the meal...a bit of meat for the protein-y bite and taste, the crunch of the greens, the sweet burst of pomegranate seeds, and the nutty, fatty goodness of pine nuts, and all of this with a not-too-wet dressing.

I was genuinely surprised to learn that the mock duck was, indeed, made of soy. If, ever, life demands that I turned vegetarian, this would be the texture and taste I would turn to for pseudo-cheats and meaty memories. A total Mildly Spiced Win. Alas, the form was not to continue...

MOCK DUCK SALAD

The orders had been placed so the food arrived in waves.
The hargao, with its flimsy skin, glistened, and gave a blurry peek of the joy it held hidden. The experience of the first hargao bite wasn't as pleasurable as the sight of it. The prawny contents were not as moist as I'd love. Bit of a MS Undecided.

HARGAO

Next up, the chicken and taro siu mai. Went well with the sauces, but again, a more stolid filling that lacked moistness and a flavor punch. Did not hold its own. A MS Ding.

For the staples, we got the spicy mee goreng noodles and the edamame egg fried rice to go with the sliced lamb in sichuan sauce and the fish in a black bean sauce.

Neither of the staples exerted much to get attention for its own unique flavors.

EDAMAME EGGS FRIED RICE

SPICY MI GORENG NOODLES

On the mains, the lamb was a tad too chewy, which doesn't speak very highly of treating protein well, and that allowed the fish in the black bean sauce (not my favorite kind of sauce) to win through. That said, I'm not sure how it was better than the desified fish one finds in many restaurants. Reasonable but not Michelin-worthy.

V and I had some dim sum on our mind, and we figured it was best we wiped it off our must-try list so we ordered the prawn and chive dumpling, and to our luck, it was the kind of delicately tasty small-eats end we needed for our savories. The thin supple green skin yielded easily to the succulent, flavorsome filling.

Good end, I muttered. Good end.

Thence to the desserts.
Here's the story upfront. I'm a savories lover. A meat lover and seafood lover. It's an uncommon meal for me when the dessert steals the thunder from the savories, and indeed, this was the reality here.

We got the ice cream duo - peanut butter and intense coffee, and a more elaborate set up of an orange chocolate, orange-cinnamon creamaux (and some orange sorbet?).
The ice creams were intensely flavorful and silken smooth. Every single spoon-lick was joyous.

It was a similar experience for me, a citrus lover, with alternating between the orange chocolat and the sorbet with the crumble-soil. It was a beautiful pairing of flavors and textures. Usually, I don't like desserts with multiple textures, but this once I was able to let go of my dogma and that means something.

V even muttered something to the effect that he was looking forward to the evening lineup of patients after such a food outing (for blissful somnolence was to be his in some time).
For all the flavor and textural dings that I noticed, V noticed none. For him, it was one of the best meals he had eaten in some time.

Check cleared, we checked out the place, walked around a bit, and reluctantly left this dark Hakkasan Blue oasis for the retina-scarring brightness outside.

Was the food good? Yes.
Did I expect more from it? Yes, definitely, I did. Michelin star, right?

What else? The oasis ambience effect really elevated the entire experience.

Will I be back? Maybe a stray blue Hakatini might tug me back one day.