If you are just here for the food review, which is also quite comprehensive, I'd recommend you to scroll down to the part where it starts. If not, then here's the essay for you!

Food, and the act of consuming it, goes beyond the sensations felt on your taste buds, the grading of dishes on a spectrum of good to bad, or the attempt to carefully balance contrasting flavours to craft the perfect meal. Food has the power of being an extremely strong communal experience, whether it be something as routine as a few college friends enjoying a plate of momo after classes, or as special an occasion as a migrant worker meeting their family after months at lunch on Eid. Some may say that food is best enjoyed while shared, and the intimacy that is involved in sharing a plate with their loved ones has the power to elevate the platter on display to new heights, ones that even the world's most decorated Michelin star chef cannot eclipse.

My relationship with food is slightly different. Readers of my blog and followers of my twitter would know of my extensive journeys around Delhi - roaming around the city, exploring more than 175 restaurants over the course of a year, and touring out to places like Dharamshala and Lucknow just to experience the culinary delights they have on offer. But most of these journeys have been solitary ones. My year in Delhi was the culmination of two years of online classes that hindered my ability to socialise, a terrible fallout with the few people I did share a good bond with, and a debilitating episode of mental issues that made it hard for me to get out of my bed to attend classes. My college days in Delhi, which were supposed to be the prime time of my life, left me hopeless when it came to my future, love, dosti and life itself. In hindsight, a lot of this was self-induced, and I should have been more proactive in reaching out to people, making new friends, and rejuvenating old bonds. There was definitely a lot that I could’ve done to make my situation better, but hindsight is always 20/20. The past is the past. There’s no changing that.

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In these hopeless times, when the depths of my heart felt like the void of a deep ravine, food became a form of escape for me. My weekly expeditions to Humayunpur and Jama Masjid became the only thing I looked forward to, and the quest to exhaust my map of food places in Delhi became the only thing that gave me some semblance of purpose and direction in life. I became somewhat of a solivagant, roaming aimlessly from katra to katra just for a nibble of a kebab, and spending hours travelling by metro and auto to reach remote urban villages just for a shawarma. The first bite into a juicy, cheesy burger or a creamy, tender plate of butter chicken would overwhelm my senses, and momentarily, the void filled by loneliness in my life would disappear, replaced with the flavour of cardamom and the scent of kewra. Perhaps this too, is why I preferred the over-stimulating gullies of Okhla and Matia Mahal, with the horns of activas and e-rickshaws blaring an ugly symphony into the night sky, and the smoke of skewers shoving a blindingly grey fog in your eyes, to the hushed, upscale cafes of Jor Bagh and Khan Market, and is also the reason for my relative dislike of the milder Afghani cuisine; it perhaps is that the flavours in their food were not intense enough to overpower the sorrows induced by the void in my heart.

In 2024, I moved back home, in a year that was marked by contemplation and stagnancy. Eventually, I ended up reconnecting with some school friends, and rekindling friendships that had grown barren due to the physical and emotional distance induced by college. If 2022 and 2023 were defined by loneliness, then 2024 became the year when I rediscovered the joy of friendship. We spent our days playing pickleball, the Xbox, cricket, had more sleepovers than should be physically possible, went on trips, mythologised the simplicity of life, and made multiple visits to what is now my favourite restaurant not only in Amdavad, but in the entire country- New Irani Restaurant.

The New Irani Restaurant is a 120-year old café in the heart of the walled city of Amdavad, one which you would easily mistake for a Parsi establishment due to its name and reputation for good chai and muskabun. You won't find any bottles of Pallonji's here though, despite its confusing name, it is a Muslim owned-and-operated eatery, serving some of the most scrumdiddlyumptious Gujarati Muslim food that you have ever had. The benches of this establishment are more crowded during teatime than during dinner, as friends and families staying in the area grab a cup of their famed chai, dip a muskabun, or two in it, and spend hours gossiping, lounging and enjoying the little joys of life in the bustling old city. It is here that we, people who reside in the newer side of Amdavad with little-to-no connection to the walled town, except for ancestral connections and a shared love for chai, decided to make a regular hangout spot, travelling long distances at odd hours to relish the sense of community that we found within the four walls of this place.

We shared stories of sorrow, of love, of the most trivial matters that vanished from our minds not an hour after discussion, and of the most serious issues gripping the world and our hearts as well. It is at New Irani, amongst other places, that I rediscovered the joy of sharing a cup of tea with friends, of devouring a mutton bhuna and collectively relishing the joy of the meat. If earlier, I was a lonely bard singing paeans in praise of kebabs and burgers, now, I was the qawwali singer in a group of devotees who would sing a hymn in praise of their Lord.

The Chai here is well rounded, very creamy, the perfect level of sweetness, and very rich. Order one of their excellent muskabuns – ounces of thick, creamy white butter lathered between two pieces of fluffy bread – dip it in their chai, and you’re good to go. New Irani does this classic pairing very well, the richness of the chai completes the blandness of the muskabun, and the layered textures of the muskabun go very well with the one-dimensional chai; it makes sense why people sit here with their pals for an hour or two without ordering anything to eat. For other hot beverages, you can order their coffee or their Suleimani Tea (black tea, no milk) as well, which are honestly quite good too, but nothing matches the joy of a warm cup of chai and some muskabuns on a crisp Ahmedabad winter morning.

New Irani’s Mutton Bhuna is elite enough to rival the best restaurants in not only the city, but the country as well. The flavourful meat falls right off the bone, and sinks into a curry flavoured with simple masalas, allowing the meat to shine. It is a shame that Ahmedabad has a reputation as a vegetarian-only city, because this is truly one of the best-cooked plates of mutton I have ever had in my life. For this dish alone, New Irani deserves to be spoken of in the same echelons as Lucknow’s Tunday or Delhi’s Karim’s is (though the latter is quite below average in my honest opinion, but the mythical reputation it has amassed is one that New Irani desperately deserves).

New Irani’s other meat dishes are almost equally as good as their piece de resistance. Their Mutton Qeema is extremely flavourful as well, the flavour of the meat being enhanced with a gravy of whole spices, most notably pepper, star anise and clove. Their Fish Masala and Fish Fry are prepared using the Nariyeli fish freshly sourced from the coast of Gujarat, and while both are lip-smacking, I in particular enjoy the fish fry a lot – fried on a tawa to a golden-brown perfection, perfectly crispy on the outside and tender and succulent on the inside. A bite into it feels like a bite into solid gold, and it’s hard to imagine a place that does better seafood than they do in the city. Their Bheja Masala is dish that takes a simple preparation and elevates it to new heights by nailing the fundamentals on its head, a stew of goat brain flavoured with simple ingredients such as dhaniya, hari mirch, tomatoes and other masalas found in a normal Indian household. It’s hard to point out a meat preparation that would be considered below average here. Everything on their menu is at least a 9/10, and you really can’t go wrong with what you order.

They also have a variety of vegetarian dishes on offer. Their Egg Qeema is prepared similar to their Bheja Masala (and frankly, given the taste and texture of bheja is so similar to egg, it tastes almost synonymous to it as well), and is a good option for those looking to have a light breakfast. They have a vegetarian sabzi of the day, which is usually either sev tameta (sev and tomatoes) or mag nu shaak (a sabzi made of moong daal beans). I have had their sev tameta on multiple occasions, and while it does lack the punch of the garlic a good sev tameta usually has, it’s a perfectly serviceable option for vegetarians accompanying their carnivorous companions on an outing to this place -- very spicy, very flavourful, very soft.

2024 was a welcome departure from the two years that preceded it. It gave me hope for life, it healed the broken parts of mine, and most importantly, it made me believe again in the love that can be shared in friendships, the simple joys of drinking some nimbu-jaljeera soda after an evening scooty ride, the intimacy in sharing a morsel of food, and the joy of just being physically present with each other, regardless of whether we end up doing something or not. I'll always love New Irani for bringing me one step closer to love, one step closer to friendship.

Location:

Opp Sunheri Maszid ,Salapose Road,Relif Road, Ramanlal Sheth Marg, Bhadra, Ahmedabad, Gujarat 380001

Recommendations:

Chai (8.75/10), Muskabun (9.75/10), Sulaimani Tea (8/10), Coffee (7.5/10)

Mutton Bhuna (9.75/10), Mutton Qeema (9,5/10), Bheja Masala (9.5/10), Fish Masala (9.25/10), Fish Fry (9.75/10)

Egg Qeema (9/10), Sev Tameta nu Shaak (8/10)

It was a great disappointment to realise upon reaching the city that the fame achieved by the city’s chaat may be nothing more than empty hype. Let alone other cities equally as renowned for their chaat such as Lucknow or Benaras, the quality of chaat in Delhi could not even match that of Amdavad – a city which is not particularly known for it, and where chaat is rare to come across, barring Pani Puri vendors who are always glad to quickly whip up a Sev Puri or Dahi Puri for you. Khodaa pahaad, nikli chuhiyaa. An apt description of Delhi’s Chaat.

This of course, may raise the question – What constitutes a good chaat, and why does Delhi Chaat not work? I have briefly answered this question in an earlier piece on Natraj Dahi Bhalla (which is perhaps the only place in the city whose chaat I rate as firmly above average), but I will try to give a more expansive theorem of chaat in this article, as well as outline why Delhi chaat does not work, using said theorem.

What chaat is, at its fundamentals, is a careful act of balancing the fragility of extremes. Sour, sweet imli juxtaposed with a garnish of freshly chopped green chilli, that mixture in turn contrasting with the cold, flavourless dahi while raw ginger elevates every second bite that you have. Crispy aloo tikkis doused in creamy dahi with a sprinkle of tiny, crunchy pieces of panipuri shells, or a smooth, thick, runny tamatar chaat topped with sev and namakpara. This balance and these contradictions must exist on two levels – flavour, and texture. The first out of those two is arguably more noticeable, and can be achieved through a variety of means, such as playing around with chutneys, spices, raw ingredients, fruit (not necessarily something like an apple, but a sprinkle of pomegranate seeds help elevate a dish), and garnish – which tend to have quite strong, concentrated flavours to ensure they balance each other out and cut through the mildness of the base materials, such as the dahi, the papdi or the aloo – which have their own subtle flavours that act as a foundation to the dish as a whole, by bringing it all together to give the dish a well-rounded definition, but are not strong enough to be remarkable on their own.

These are the very fundamentals of what I consider to be the hallmark of quality chaat. Roughly speaking, they can be summarized into three points, which I term as the Axioms of Chaat, which are -

• A gentle balance between multiple, strong, often completely contrasting flavours.

• A juxtaposition of two, or more, varying textures, with one complementing the other.

• Ingredients that make you feel the intensity of the chaat, and are not mild in flavour. After all, the words we use to describe a good chaat are “chatpata”, “teekha”, “khatta-meetha”, and not “halka” or “naazuk”.

Of course, it is possible to make perfectly edible chaat while only using 2 or 3 of these aforementioned principles. Natraj in Chandni Chowk has been serving Dahi Bhallas for eight decades now, and uses crispy aloo tikkis dipped in a concoction of ice-cold dahi and sweet and sour imli, and topped with a sprinkle of what I suppose is a mixture of chaat masala and kali mirch. The complexity that is to be found in the chaat of UP, such as Deena’s wonderful Palak Patta Chaat doused in dahi, green chutney, sweet chutney, ginger, mooli, carrots, coriander leaves and whatnot, isn’t to be found here. However, the quality of ingredients maintained by Natraj, despite being one of the more popular spots in Chandni Chowk, is not to be underestimated. The dahi is thick and velvety, the imli chutney is strong, and its sweetness and slight sourness beautifully cuts through the comparatively bland yet crispy tikki and aforementioned dahi. Hence, despite being in violation of the first axiom mentioned above, Natraj tends to be an enjoyable place to visit, and is one that I oft recommend to people.

The other place that I quite like in the area is Bishan Swaroop, a small stall just outside the ancient Bank of India branch, serving a variety of fruit and vegetable chaats to their patrons. Their Aloo Chaat has a crispy texture and a wonderful spice mix, complemented by a bit of lemon on top. Their Fruit Chaat too, is quite simple, consisting of pineapple, papaya. pears, watermelon, bananas, melon, fried aloo, the same spice mix as before and a squeeze of lemon on top. This wonderful blend of spicy, savoury, sweet and sour flavours is blended together by the chutney they add on top - made of the extract of pomegranate seeds, which is quite unique and something that I’ve not seen before.

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Ashok just opposite Gate 3 of the Chawri Bazaar Metro Station is another decent place to eat chaat. The quality of ingredients here is OK, certainly not as vibrant as those of Lucknow or Benaras - a bit muted in comparison which takes away from the complexity of it, but the construction is decent enough for it to be an enjoyable experience overall. Both the Aloo Chaat and the Papdi Chaat have a similar make - pudina and a sweet, red chutney on top of a base of thick, chilled dahi and the base of either the aloo or papdi. I’d say avoid the former, though - the thinly sliced, unseasoned, unflavoured pieces of aloo and kachalu taste depressing; stick to the papdi chaat, which is a much stronger, sturdier base to the heavy potion on top. Lastly, I’m not a big fan of Kalmi Bada, but the Kalmi Bada at Ashok is one of the best I’ve ever had - the pudina water is tangy, spicy and strong, and the vada is spongy, soft and well-flavoured. Another classic spot, just look out for the various imposters scattered across the area.

Delhi has a knack of serving quirky food items that are difficult to come by elsewhere - whether it be the stuffed qulfis popularised by Kuremal, or the stringy, stretchy shami kebabs at Bhaijaan. One such spot is Manohar in the electronics market - who sell a layered, flaky, crunchy “Japani Samosa” filled with standard aloo masala as any samosa is, served with a dark, hit, spicy chhole on the side and an almost radioactive green chutney to go with it. This is something that I've only ever seen before at one other place - Beera Samosa in Amritsar, where it is served as a “Satpura”, named after it's seven layers, although the origins of the name “Japani Samosa” are lost to history. Some slop outlets online peddle a myth that it was named after the Japanese who fought in WWII, as the shop was invented at around the same time, although I'm not sure how credible that myth is, given the Japanese did not particularly fight in North Indian land, and the bombing of Hiroshima or Nagashika is likely to have little impact on the naming of an Indian shop (there were much more historically significant events to India in the same period of time). The flaky, layered samosa is enjoyable on its own, although I don't think it's particularly convenient to consume it with a chhole masala.

These are probably the only chaat places in Chandni Chowk that I somewhat enjoyed; one of them isn’t even a chaat place, and the other relies on fruit for its taste. The other spots I’ve been to in the area have been firmly below average. Jung Bahadur’s Kachoris were too one-dimensional, and felt over-reliant on red chilli powder. The intensity of flavour at Shree Balaji Chaat Bhandar and Padam Chaat Corner are just too mild; they don’t cut across each other as well as the chaat of Lucknow or Benaras does.

And Padam’s Golgappas are, in a way, a microcosm of everything wrong with Delhi’s food culture. I can’t be expected to write positive reviews of a place that has unflavoured, chopped aloo and unseasoned chana in their golgappas. I am not a huge fan of the Delhi culture of sooji golgappas anyways - I feel that a good golgappa (or panipuri, or phuchka, or whatever you call it) is marked by the contrast in texture between the crispy poori, and the mashed, runny aloo (or matar, in some places), with the water acting like a bridge between the two. The only saving grace of the dish was the tangy imli water - which did lend a unique, rustic taste to the dish, but wasn’t enough for me to fully love it.

I am not a fan of the local soda sold in Delhi - called Banta or Lemon depending on who you ask. It is quite refreshing, but is quite flat, lacks the fizz that a soda should have; it’s not strong enough to fulfill my soda cravings. Pt. Vedparkash Lemon Wale opposite the Town Hall in Chandni Chowk serves a version of this drink, which is good by Delhi standards, but sub-standard in the larger picture.

Lastly, a very popular spot in the area, Lotan Kulche, which I found to be a bit too oily and one-dimensional; heavy on red chilli powder with little else to offer.

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To be honest, I accept that there may be chaat places outside Chandni Chowk that are better than this, but I have low expectations from a city that adds chopped, not mashed, aloo to its samosas, and phased out soup in favour of mayonnaise as a side to momos. Nor is this a comprehensive list of Delhi Chaat or Chandni Chowk eateries, but given the disappointing experiences I’ve had from these legacy shops (and several other nondescript shops that I’ve not mentioned here), you can hardly fault me for being dissuaded from exploring more. As far as Old Delhi food goes, I have had excellent experiences with non-vegetarian food in the area around Jama Masjid, and have explored that part of the city extensively, but when it comes to the vegetarian side of the locality? Would recommend you to avoid it.

Admittedly, I was able to appreciate the taste of many of Chandni Chowk’s chaats on my last visit there earlier this year, but I’d still consider most of it to be firmly average at best, and nothing that warrants the extreme hype that it has in popular culture.

Natraj Dahi Bhalla:

Dahi Bhallas (7/10)

Bishan Swaroop:

Fruit Chaat (8.25/10)

Aloo Chaat (8/10)

Ashok Chaat Corner:

Kalmi Bada (9/10)

Papdi Chaat (5.75/10)

Aloo Chaat (4.5/10)

Manohar Dhaba:

Samosa (8.5/10)

Jung Bahadur Kachori Wale:

Kachori (4/10)

Padam Chaat Corner:

Papdi Chaat (5.75/10)

Golgappe (4.25/10)

Pandit Ved Parkash Lemon Wale:

Lemon Soda (5.5/10)

Lotan ji Kulche:

Chhole - Kulche (4/10)

The only major misses from this trip were the non-vegetarian food of the city; as this trip was focused on the religious center of the city where meat sale is restricted, malaiyo; a winter delicacy that would not be available in April, and the much-famed Paan Benaras Wala. Well, I did have a couple of mouthfuls of paan from non-descript parlours scattered around town, but did not care to document it in my notebook or camera roll, and I didn’t find the taste to be significantly different from the paan I’m used to in other cities.

The Ram Bhandar

The trip went off to a slow start, with more than an hour’s wait at one of Thatheri Bazaar’s most popular breakfast eateries, The Ram Bhandar. Honestly, this may have been the longest I have waited for ANY meal in my life, let alone a small plate of Kachori-Sabzi and Jalebi. Prior to reaching the city, I did not find enough places in the city that were recommended by my sources, and the other Kachori spot I was keen on trying (Neelu Kachori Bhandar) was closed for the entire duration of the trip. Oh well, that’s just fate. A part of me wanted to ditch the long line and try some other nondescript place nearby, another part of me felt that it would be incredibly dishonest for a self-styled food writer like me to not visit one of the most popular places in Banaras. I am not sure which part of me won this internal discord, but my decision to stay was probably most influenced by exhaustion and the unwillingness to explore; the overnight train journey in a cramped 3E berth had not been kind on me.

After what felt like an eternity of browsing through Diana L. Eck’s seminal Banaras: City of Light and observing the intricacies of their inventory management system, I was finally handed my order - crunchy, deep-fried Urad Dal Kachoris crushed beneath the weight of a dark aloo-chhole sabzi, which featured a generous drizzle of pudina chutney and sweet chutney, garnished with coriander, shredded mooli and carrot. Unfortunately, I can’t say the wait was worth it. The food wasn’t particularly bad, it was very simple, no frills, and not very masaledaar, but it was also nothing to rave about. I’m sure you can get a similar quality of kachori-sabzi at multiple other places in the city (and country), and to be honest, the rusticness of the Kachori made it a bit cumbersome to finish after a few bites.

The Jalebi here was good. It was hot, fresh, sweet and nice. But I don’t think that is reason enough to spend an hour waiting for an easily-replicable plate in an extremely cramped space. Visitors wanting to try this 138-year old eatery (they claim to have started operations in 1887) are recommended to come in the early hours of the day, preferably right after they start operations, or a bit after that. My recommendation would be to skip it, and start your day with any other spot you deem fit (unfortunately none of the breakfast spots I had on this trip held up for me, so I don’t have a specific recommendation for you as of now).

Recommendations:

Kachori-Sabzi (6.75/10), Jalebi (8/10)

Location:

C.K 15/29 Katra Ratanlal, Thatheri Bazar, Govindpura, Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh 221001

Kashi Chat Bhandar

The wide, plaza-esque Godowlia Road in Benaras, the primary way to reach Dashashwamedh Ghat from the main city, is a crowded, touristy road, full of hustlers pestering you to book a hotel room, the cacophony of sellers cataloguing their offers on kulfi, sarees, handicrafts and kid’s toys, and a bunch of generic, nondescript dhabas and restaurants offering everything from Dosas and Idlis to Veg Thalis and Kachoris on their menu. On this road lies what is arguably the most popular food spot in Varanasi (The Ram Bhandar would come second to this) - Kashi Chat Bhandar, which is so popular amongst tourists (thanks to Instagram Reels and YouTube), that the stretch of road in front of the shop is literally blocked at night by pilgrims and tourists enjoying plates upon plates of chaat, leaving zero space for either foot traffic or vehicles to pass from in front of it.

Unfortunately, this place too, like the above, is quite mediocre, and nothing more than an average, crowded tourist trap. The Tamatar Chaat - which is a dish unique to Benaras - hot, thick tomato-aloo-matar gravy constantly sizzling on a tawa, scooped up into a kulhad, mixed with a thin masala of tamatar that provides much of the flavour to the dish, and topped with desi ghee, chashni, zeera, kala namak, nimboo, namakpara and coriander. Unfortunately, the elaborate construction of this layered chaat did not go well with me. The tomatoes were a bit too sour, and the sweetness or saltiness from the other toppings did not do enough to cut it out. The namakpara added on top tasted like mass-produced cheeselings, although I have no way to confirm which namakpara they actually use. Biting through these atomically small particles was the food equivalent of a swarm of mosquitoes hovering around your head. I get that they provide some crunch to each nivala, but at the dimensions and volume they were featured in, this crunchiness did not come off well at all.

I have a similar complaint with their Palak Patta Chaat - another dish unique to Benaras - there was too much namakpara added, the volume of sweet chutney was excessive, and their green chutney was not strong enough to counter those flavours. The feeling of the namakpara not assimilating well with the other flavours of the chaat was even stronger when it comes to the Palak Patta, compared to the former, in part because the volume of namakpara added was much, much higher than that to the Tamatar Chaat. Although the base of Palak Patta, a tikki strongly featuring flavours of spinach, was delicious on its own, crispy, strong, and flavourful, but the construction of the chaat was imbalanced, hurried, and mediocre in the grand scheme of things.

Their Pani Puri was perhaps the only thing I enjoyed on the menu, out of the three things I had sampled here. Their menu is quite extensive, but the mediocrity of the first two items, and the unavailability of the only other unique dish on the menu (Chura Matar; the others were papdi chaat and dahi bhalla which are available outside Kashi as well) meant that I put a halt to those thoughts. The dhaniya-pudina water was genuinely refreshing and the masala of the safed matar, slightly mashed, was savoury and delicious. This is the first time I’ve enjoyed pani puri with a filling of safed matar (my usual prefernce is mashed aloo-chana masala), and both the masala and the water here was more flavourful than what I’ve had so far in Lucknow.

Overall, I would recommend you to skip this outlet - I visited them during lunch, when it was quite crowded, but merely a third of the crowd that gathered for dinner. If it was this mediocre for lunch, I can only imagine how mediocre it would be when a larger crowd gathers.

Recommendations:

Tamatar Chaat (5/10), Palak Patta Chaat (6/10), Pani Puri (7/10)

Location:

D 37/47, Dashashwamedh Ghat Rd, Godowlia, Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh 221001

Deena Chaat Bhandar

Deena Chaat Bhandar is a few blocks away from Kashi, on the much less crowded Luxa road that eventually connects to Godowlia and the touristy centre of Benaras. Although much of their menu is similar to that of Kashi, I found their stuff to be vastly superior to the former in terms of quality. If you’re visiting Benaras, and want to relish the local chatpata flavours on offer, you’re better off skipping Kashi, walking a few hundred metres ahead to Deena instead.

Their Tamatar Chaat was delicious, similar in construction to that of Kashi, but much more well-balanced and truly worthy of being a flagbearer of the local cuisine. The tomatoes were neither too sweet, nor too sour, the spice of the masalas and flavour of tomatoes very visible on the chaat, blending flawlessly with the hot, mashed aloo it was served with. Even the type of namakpara they added to the chaat mixed more naturally with the dish, rather than sticking out like a sore thumb. A much better offering than that at Kashi.

Their Palak Patta Chaat, served with dahi, green and sweet chutneys, garnished with shredded ginger, mooli, carrots and coriander leaves was also a true eye-opener to the flavours of the land of Shiva. The tikki of spinach was crispy, flavourful and wonderfully crunchy, and the addition of the toppings and chutneys blended extremely well with each other, with no annoying namakpara to interrupt every bite of yours. The chutneys were strong, they were well-balanced, and a wonderful addition to the already scrumdiddlyumptious base of spinach.

The Aloo Tikki was similarly constructed to the Palak Patta, with a bit of chhole masala added which did wonders in terms of adding a new, darker flavour to the mix, one that acted as a nice base of flavour to the whole thing, with the aloo tikki providing most of the texture. Although they did refill the dahi without question or extra charge, it did feel a bit dry, and could do with a bit more dahi and chutneys added to the first draft. The quantity of chutney was a bit lower in this chaat than any other chaat I’ve had before, which is my main complaint with it. Nothing much else to crib about.

I have similar views on their pani puri as on the one at Kashi, except this was a bit more flavourful, a bit stronger, more concentrated, and served live, not separate in a dish and a glass like the one at Kashi.

Recommendations:

Tamatar Chaat (9.5/10), Palak Patta Chaat (9.75/10), Aloo Tikki (8.75/10), Pani Puri (8.75/10)

Location:

D47/184, only one branch, Luxa Rd, near PDR mall, Luxa, Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh 221001

Laxmi Chai Wale

Laxmi Chai Wale in Govindpura is another breakfast spot rushed into fame for their Safed Makkhan Toast and Chai. Once you reach the location, you will encounter two different sets of paunchy men screaming at you, insisting their shop is the “original” one, and insisting you to have a seat at their establishment, and not the fraudulent other. I did not want to engage much of my mental capacity for some toast and chai, so I sheepishly sat down at the first shop from the entrance, and placed my order.

Their Safed Makkhan Toast was a simple creation. Two slices of bread, lathered in white butter and topped with black pepper, roasted between an iron grill over an open flame. This too, was quite mediocre. The Makkhan was of bad quality, not very thick, served in too little quantity, and not very creamy either, and the toast felt a bit too burnt for my liking. I didn't find the whole idea very appetizing at all, and the chai served was honestly quite mediocre. This is another popular spot in the city that is probably best to skip on your visit here.

Recommendations:

Safed Makkhan Toast (4/10), Chai (5.5/10)

Location:

CK 56/34, near chowk thana, Govindpura, Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh 221001

Shree Shree Ram Bhandar

Don’t confuse this with the similarly-named The Ram Bhandar in Thatheri Bazaar, although going by the numerous negative Google reviews on their page that cuss out The Ram Bhandar’s mediocre breakfast, a LOT of you are very confused. This shop sells sweets, and I tried out their Lalpeda and Malai Gilori one morning. The Lalpeda, a result of the caramelisation of khoya and sugar, was delightful. Thick, strong, very rich and flavourful - it tasted the way a proper peda should. I loved the Malai Gilori here too, with the outer covering being a bit ‘webby’ in its texture, sort of like a dense honeycomb that is the right amount brittle, right amount chewy, and the flavours of the malai came through wonderfully. What I liked about this, especially in comparison to other Malai Gilori shops in the state (most notably Ram Asrey in Hazratganj, Lucknow), is that the inner filling of Malai had a separate flavour to that of the outer one. Perfect, worth packing some of their goods for eating back home or to have a snack on your travels there.

Recommendations:

Malai Gilori (9/10), Lalpeda (8.5/10)

Location:

C.K. 16/48, Thatheri Bazar, Ghasi Tola, Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh 221001

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Blue Lassi Shop

Blue Lassi in Kachaudi Gali has one of the most interesting interiors of restaurants I’ve been to; an iconic blue-painted wall, plastered with passport size photos and testimonials on wooden spoons, with signage in Korean indicating its history as a popular spot amongst tourists from that part of Earth. This shop is famous for the hundreds of varieties of hand-churned lassi they supposedly serve to its patrons, although when I visited them, they only had three with them - Mix Fruit, Mango and Dry Fruit.

I had their Mixed Fruit and Dry Fruit lassis. They were perhaps some of the most enjoyable lassis I’ve ever had in my life - thick and creamy with a generous topping of freshly chopped mango, pomegranate and banana in the former, and badam, pista and kesar in the latter. The sweetness of the lassi was induced from the fruits, and the dry fruit lassi was a bit more bland when it came to sweetness. This was perhaps the only mainstream tourist spot in Varanasi that I enjoyed, the rest were extremely disappointing and frankly, skippable.

Recommendations:

Mixed Fruit Lassi (9/10), Dry Fruit Lassi (8/10)

Location:

CK 12/1 Kunj Gali, Kachaudi Gali, Near Rajbandhu, Govindpura, Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh 221001

Raja Ram Lassi Wale

Raja Ram Lassi Wale is a small, unassuming shop in Chaukhamba that only serves one thing on their menu - fresh, hand-churned lassi. The lassi is thick, and is served with frothy, crisp malai on top, which adds much heterogeneity to the dish. I enjoy it when sweet dishes are not excessively sugary, not for health reasons, but because excess sugar too often overpowers the rest of the flavours of the dish, pushing them back to a secondary role. Honestly, I feel like a lot of places in India are faulty of this; it becoming a rat race where shops that don’t sell excessively sugary treats are left behind in sales because customers get used to higher sweet levels in their jalebis or chais. At places like Raja Ram, where you can taste the milkiness, where you can feel the creaminess, you really start to appreciate the joys of having food that is a little less intense on one flavour, and is well-rounded instead.

Recommendations:

Malai Lassi (8.75/10)

Location:

Raja Ram Lassi Wale, Chukhambha, Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh 221001

Shiv Prasad Lassi Wale, Ramnagar

If you find yourself visiting the Ramnagar Fort, Shiv Prasad Lassi nearby serves a wonderful mixture of thick, creamy, bland lassi, topped with a sweet, thick layer of rabdi on top. Heterogeneity! Who doesn’t love it.

Recommendations:

Lassi - Rabdi (8.5/10)

Location:

Shiv Prasad Lassi Bhandar, Ramnagar

Lemon Tea by the Ghats

From dawn to dusk, merchants are found roaming the ghats of Benaras from North to South, calling out to potential customers with calls of “Lemon Tea, Nimboo Chai le lo”. Their tea is hot, zesty, freshly prepared with black pepper, hajmola, and other spices that hit you in the throat. Mauj. It’s especially delicious in the mornings and I’d imagine it would be much more enjoyable in the winter. Sipping Lemon Tea by the Ghats and observing the life of Banaras - children playing cricket by the Ghats, pilgrims walking towards the Vishwanath Temple, students involved in early-morning classes, people bathing in the Ganga, and boatmen occupying space on the horizon, all while a cool, strong breeze weaves through your hair, relieving you of the intense April weather, is an incredible vibe; and if I ever return to Banaras, it will be to sip tea by the Ghats before all else. I don’t usually give a perfect score to any place I eat at, as taste is subjective and there is always room for improvement, but this shall be the first, and perhaps only dish, that I have rated a 10/10, just for the vibes alone tbh.

Recommendations:

Lemon Tea (10/10)

Location:

Ghats of Benaras, Multiple Sellers

Pathak Ji Thandai

Pathak Ji Thandai, situated in a small lane off the main road of Godowlia, is my favourite food discovery that I made on this little trip of mine, a truly one-of-a-kind place that makes Thandai without milk, using the juice from fruit extract instead, which imparts a lovely, natural flavour into the drink. There is no fixed menu for what fruits he uses, and he usually has whatever fruit is locally available in season for his thandai-making purposes. At the time of my visit, mangoes were not locally available in Uttar Pradesh, else I would’ve had their aam ki thandai (and probably would have packed some to take home as well!).

The first thandai I had was their Watermelon Thandai, which was thin, and tasted exactly how a thandai made of watermelon would taste like. It was not very strong on the fruit flavour, but masalas such as cardamom, black pepper and fennel seeds were quite prominent, and was what gave this extract the taste of the classic thandai we are all used to.

I also had their Dry Fruit Thandai, which was strong on the almonds - the owner boasted of how he does not use the regular badams available in the market at all, and chooses to buy Peshawari Badams instead, which he regards as much more high quality than the regular ones. The saunf, kali mirch and ilaichi that hit your throat after you’ve just gulped down a glass of badam-tasting thandai are excellent, and I truly loved this place and the variety of drinks it has on offer.

They also serve a regular thandai, which I tried as well, prominently flavoured with kesar. It was much better than the other two places I had thandai at in Godowlia, but I’ve had better thandai elsewhere.

Recommendations:

Watermelon Thandai (9.75/10), Dry Fruit Thandai (9.25/10), Thandai (8/10)

Location:

Mishra Pokhra, Godaulia, Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh 221010

Mishrambu Thandai

This shop is situated right at the corner of the Godowlia crossing, where a couple of thandai shops are located right next to each other. The thandai was mediocre to be honest. It was not very thick, neither were its flavours strong enough. It felt like I was drinking flavoured water, and although thickness doesn’t matter as much in a thandai as it does in lassi, but you do expect the kick of black pepper, cardamom and fennel seeds to hit you in the throat after you gulp down an entire glass of it. I could feel nothing in either my throat or in my heart, and this was easily one of the most sad beverages I’ve had in my life so far.

Recommendations:

Banarasiya Thandai (4.75/10)

Location:

Sonapura Rd, Luxmanpura, Ramapura Luxa, Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh 221001

Badal Thandai

Situated just next to Mishrambu, this is a bit thicker, with the addition of malai on top, which makes it slightly more enjoyable to its neighbour. The thandai is not very flavourful, and while you can just taste hints of kesar, badam and pista, the spices feel missing too. Slightly better than Mishrambu, but nothing to rave about.

The Thandai game of Benaras has been disappointing so far, but Pathak Ji (mentioned earlier) and his fruit-flavoured thandais was something that I hadn’t ever seen elsewhere, and it captured my heart and my tongue.

Recommendations:

Thandai (6/10)

Location:

8254+JMG, Sonapura Rd, next to SBI ATM, Luxmanpura, Godowlia, Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh 221001

Pizzeria Vaatika Cafe

Located off the shores of Assi Ghat, this restaurant brings European-style cafe culture to Banaras, serving fresh pizzas, pasta and coffee with outdoor seating under the shade of trees with a leisurely view of the Ganga. It is hard to think of a better date spot, especially in the mornings, evenings or the winter. If you’re visiting Benaras with your SO, I would definitely recommend you check out this spot for a leisurely Italian meal.

I particularly enjoyed their Ravioli, with a generous filling of spinach and cheese buried under a delicious arrabiata sauce with tomato and red pepper. The sauce was well-made, the pasta was well-cooked, I have little complaints other than the suggestion to serve some complimentary garlic bread (as is standard in Italian restaurants) to scoop up the sauce that remains after you’ve gobbled up their amazing pasta.

Their Margherita Pizza, with an extra topping of mushroom on my request, was good as well, although not the same as the heights reached by the Ravioli. The cheese was a bit sour, which should not be the case for good margherita, and a bit too heavy compared to the rest of the dish, which was quite light on the stomach, leading to a weird mismatch of flavour where it felt that the cheese was the star of the show, with the actual pizza being a mere sidekick to it. Thin-crust, well-baked, quality marinara and a generous spread of mushroom on top - if only they had sorted the cheese situation I’d have left this place a happier man.

I had ordered a Frappe Mocha with Ice Cream on the side of it, as well as a Lemon Soda. Both of them were just OK, nothing to go home about. The Lemon Soda in particular was quite mediocre, overpriced as well, but I guess the latter’s not unexpected for slightly upscale establishments in India these days.

Lastly, for dessert, their Apple Pie. I wanted to have it with whipped cream, but they ran out of stock and I wasn’t in the mood for another scoop of ice cream, so just had it as is. The pie itself was good. Not too hard but not undercooked either, and easily breaks apart, with a crumbly texture that is sure to light candles in your heart. The apple filling was nice as well, but could be a bit more rich. This was too mild, and felt like you’re eating a watered-down version of what an actual apple tastes like. It lacked the freshness or the punch that good, rich apple pie is supposed to have, and I felt a lot of online reviews raving about how this is the “best apple pie of their life” to be quite misleading in this case as well.

Location:

B-1/178, Assi Ghat Rd, Shivala, Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh 221005

Recommendations:

Ravioli (8.25/10), Margherita Mushroom Pizza (6.75/10), Frappe Mocha with Ice Cream (5/10), Apple Pie (7.75/10)

Conclusion

While there were some gems that I unearthed on my short trip to Kashi, most places I tried felt overhyped, disappointing and of subpar quality. I believe the reason for this is clear as well. Most of my trip was spent in the Northern half of the city - an area where most food spots are aimed towards tourists and pilgrims, a demographic who are extremely unlikely to remain repeat customers of any establishment they visit. Thus, most places in the vicinity of Godowlia and Thatheri Bazar were either legacy restaurants who are way past their prime, or fast-food restaurants appealing to as many unadventurous tourists from across the country as they can, offering everything from thalis to idli-dosa under their roof. I have learned to identify the latter from a distance, with everything from the font on the billboard to the menu to the appearance of the shop’s facade giving me signs if a place is meant to be an oily, mediocre money grab or not.

If I ever visit the city again, I would like to stay at the southern, peaceful Assi Ghat, both because of my disappointing experience in the crowded city center and temples (which I’ve described in a blog post before - you can read it here), and because I am yet to explore the food closer to BHU and Hyderabad Gate, food that I hope shall be better than the northern city centre.

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In any case, I hope you enjoyed reading this blog. I’d really appreciate it if you would let me know your thoughts on these longer, detailed posts, or if you have anything else to say. Engagement is quite low on my posts despite them getting good viewership, and I am unable to judge if what I write in these posts is resonating with my audience or not. I am thinking of continuing with similar longer posts, once a week, and shall return to you next week with a write-up on a place in Amdavad that made me rediscover the little joys of friendship - New Irani Restaurant.

Upon disembarking from my train on a fine Friday morning, I hustled through the autowallahs at the railway station, found a shared ride that would take me towards my destination, walked through the massive plaza of the bazaar at Godowlia, and found myself standing at the grand Dashashwamedh Ghat - the chief Ghat that planks the shores of the mighty Ganga, named after the Ashwamedh Yajna (religious ceremony involving sacrifice of horses) involving ten (das in Hindi and dasham in Sanskrit) horses that Brahma, the creator God in Hindu mythology, held here, to be able to have a darshan (lit. "to view", but is used in a religious sense in Hinduism vis-a-vis idol worship) of Lord Shiva and his linga, as narrated in the Kashi Kedara Mahatmaya. The morning breeze was strong, cool, and pleasant, and the Ghat was overrun with pilgrims and tourists like me, some bathing in the holy river's waters, others sipping lemon tea while seated on the steps. Some strolled towards the centerpiece of Kashi - the Vishwanath temple just a few ghats away, others involved in poojas and other religious ceremonies.

While my primary motivation to visit the city was to see the mighty Ganga for the first time in my life, the desire to witness one of India's most prominent cultural centers was also pretty strong. At the time, I was half-way through reading Diana L. Eck's classic "Banaras: A City of Light", a religious and cultural history of the holy city that references the vast corpus of Hindu mythology to wonderfully map out Varanasi's geography and explain the lore behind its cultural sites. Now, I am not a religious man in any sense of the word; if anything I am a radical opposite of it, but to discount the cultural and historic importance Kashi has in India is fool's play. Varanasiis said to be a microcosm of Hindu culture - something it takes quite literally by way of having temples and religious sites dedicated to almost every major deity within its boundaries, whether it be the Linga at Kedarnath represented in Kedar Khand, the city of Ayodhya represented in the Ram Kund on Luxa Road, the Holy Dham of Haridvar present at Asi Ghat, or the Sangam at Prayag being present at the Panchaganga Ghat – Kashi is all-encompassing, and if its mythologies are to believed, it is as much a part of India, as the entirety of India is a part of it.

For centuries, visitors have been spell-struck by the religiosity and spirituality emanating from this city. famously described by Mark Twain as “older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend” - a cultural landmark on any atlas you can get your hands on, a city without which the idea of India in its present form is perhaps impossible to even think of, a city that has captured the spiritual imaginations of over a billion Hindus, and perhaps even more admirers. Surely, there is something to explore here. Surely, there is something to be fascinated by.

Unfortunately, my first, and lasting impression of the city was one full of disappointment. The area once known as Anandvana (lit. Forest of Bliss), a calm, serene forest full with hundreds of shivalings, south of the then-city centre at Rajghat, and now comprising modern-day Banaras, has been long lost to history, and what remains after around a century of haphazard modern urban planning is a densely packed city marked by small homes, narrow gullies and open wiring. What was once a quiet jungle well-suited to spiritual practice is now a filthy city lacking even bare minimum sanitation, and if one were unaware of the history of this place, they would never mistake it as having been India's most prominent spiritual center over the past 4 millenia. I have extensively explored many cities with densely packed old towns infamous for their narrow gullies, from Ahmedabad to Delhi to Lucknow, and these areas are often neglected by local administrations, with terrible drainage systems, sub-par cleanliness, and little to no accountability from the municipalities. Varanasi may be dirtier and smellier than all of these cities combined. Most gullies I roamed through, even those not having large tourist footfalls, have massive open gutters, are littered with animal excreta, and have barely any cleanliness, leading to vast stretches of the city smelling like a putrid, disgusting mixture of dung and sewer waste.

It is difficult to see one of India's most important historic and cultural centres in this pathetic state of being. You would imagine that a party that rose to global prominence on the bank of an ideology best described as Hindu Nationalism, and whose leader in Parliament successfully contested elections from the city THRICE, would care more about the condition of basic amenities in the most holiest city in Hinduism, one that is unmistakably part of the holiest cities of the world. Despite all the political patronage it has received since 2014, it will be a long, long time before Kashi truly becomes Kyoto, and at this rate, it is more realistic to aim to reach the levels of Kurukshetra or Kolhapur, and even that would take a couple decades.

For anyone even slightly familiar with Indian history and architecture, Mark Twain’s quote of Banaras being “older than history” itself falls flat on the first glance of the city itself. The city’s architecture is not ancient by any stretch of the word. Most forts, ghats, and even several temples were constructed in the medieval era, as a result of Maratha and Mughal patronage under Akbar, starting from the late 16th century onwards, as reactions to the city being ransacked by multiple Islamic kingdoms. The narrow gullies that define the city centre of Kashi are, as described earlier, the misfortune of the past 100 or 150 years of urban planning, starting with the British, and continuing undeterred post-independence. The various lakes and streams that used to mark the city of old are nowhere to be found; and today merely comprise small kunds (ponds) and nalas (gutters). Of course, the traditions and religious sites of the city are unmistakably prehistoric, which is probably what Mark Twain’s quote referred to in the first place. I’m just annoyed about people proclaiming it to be a city where stepping foot in makes you feel like you’re in a place that is older than history itself. Anyone who is even remotely familiar with mediaeval Indian architecture would not be mistaken for present-day Varanasi’s true age.

And finally, the major reason why the city is frequented so much - the temple of Vishwanath, Lord of the World, known as being the most pre-eminent of the hundreds (and possibly thousands) of Shiva temples that have graced Kashi over the years. The temple management here was not disappointing, although I would recommend you to visit the temple as early as possible if you do not wish to spend hours waiting in line. I visited the temple at 6 am and had to wait for around half an hour before I could have darshan of the idol, which lasted for little more than three-quarters of a second before the security-wallahs pushed me out of the line. A worse experience was to be had at the Kaal Bhairav Temple, another historic idol of Shiva considered to be the kotwal (watchman) of the city. Hindu mythology believes that everyone wanting to stay in the city must take permission from Kaal Bhairav, and it is often considered ideal to visit this temple before that of Vishwanath, for similar reasons. Unfortunately, the management here is utterly chaotic. There is little to no clarity over entry and exit gates, and there seems to be much confusion over where shoes are to be taken off before entering the temple, leading to me having to stand in line thrice at prime darshan time (once to deposit my shoes, once more for the darshan, and one last time to collect my shoes), again, for merely a second of a glimpse of the idol of Kaal Bhairav that I do not even recollect.

Though, not all temples are as crowded and mismanaged as these two are. The Nepali Temple, constructed by the Maharajadhiraja of Nepal during his exile to the city in the early 19th century, situated upon a hill at Lalita Ghat is mostly quiet. It oversees a small compound, where you can sit under the shade of some Peepal trees and have a bird’s eye view of the mighty Ganga. This was one of the only temples I felt at peace in my trip here, an oasis of serenity in a city that does not have space to breathe in. Two other temples I visited, were the Vishalakshi Mata Shakti Peeth and Maa Sankata Devi Temple, extremely important temples in the Hindu fold. The former is one of 51 Shakti Peethas, which are believed to be the places where pieces of Sati’s body fell after her demise at the hands of Vishnu, and the site of the Vishalakshi temple is considered to be where her earrings fell. The latter, one of the original Matrikas - goddesses of Puranic folk traditions that were not associated with male deities, although over the years and with eventual assimilation into the larger Hindu fold, she has been identified with Shiva’s consort, Bhavani, slayer of Mahishasura and a multiform of Shiva. There are hundreds of other temples scattered across the city, but unfortunately I did not have the time or the energy to make a pilgrimage to them in scorching April heat.

What was unmistakably the most enjoyable part of the trip was the Ghats of Banaras, even as the levels of the Ganga were not as high as I hoped them to be, and the grandeur of the Ganga which I went to witness being largely unfulfilled due to the time of year I chose to visit it. The Ghats of Benaras stand in great contrast to the cities that lie within its borders. The flights of steps that descend from the hilltops and forts above the horizon leave ample space for pilgrims to walk, for children to play cricket, for students to study the Vedas, for hustlers to sell their goods to tourists, and for devotees to pray or engage in religious rituals. The eastward border of Banaras along the river remains one part of the city which retains its spiritual connection to nature - and merely sitting by the Ghats, observing the activity of the city and relishing the cool breeze of the Ganga was enough to redeem the parts of the city.

Banaras has, amongst its eastward border, 84 ghats, starting from Assi Ghat in the South, on the northward end of the seasonal Assi river, and ending at the Adi Keshava Ghat, on the southward border of the Varuna river. Traditionally, this has been considered to be the zone encompassing Varanasi - and the etymology of the city is popularly considered to be derived from the two rivers (Varuna + Assi = Varanasi), although Diana L. Eck disputes this in her book mentioned above, proposing instead that the Varuna was earlier known as the Varanasi river, from which the city derived its name, and the Assi is no more than a “dried up rivulet”, which would only resemble a river in the monsoon.

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One thing I would recommend every visitor to do, would be to stroll across the various Ghats of Banaras, for there is something to do and something to see alongside all of them. On my last day, I walked from the Assi Ghat all the way in the south to the Hanumanagardh Ghat (roughly the 73rd Ghat out of 84), even far northward of Vishwanath. Various medieval-era forts and palaces can be seen on this expedition. There are the palaces at Ganga Mahal Ghat, Man Mandir Ghat and Darbhanga Ghat, the fortifications at Chet Singh Ghat, Rana Mahal Ghat, Bhonsale Ghat, Jalasen Ghat, and many more.

Other Ghats have their own historical quirks as well. The Jantar Mantar of Varanasi is located on top of the palace at Man Mandir Ghat, which has now been converted to a Virtual Experiential Museum consisting of exhibitions on the culture and heritage of Varanasi. The Tulsi Ghat was home to the poet Tulsidas, who wrote the Ramcharitmanas, his version of the epic poem Ramayana in vernacular Awadhi. The Panchaganga Ghat, where the Alamgir Mosque constructed by Aurangzeb stands, is revered as the confluence of five sacred rivers - the Ganga, Yamuna, Saraswati, Dhutpapa and Kirana, hence being called the Panchaganga (lit. five rivers).

Most interestingly, the eternal pyres at Manikarnika and Harishchandra Ghats - considered to be the two most holiest cremation grounds in Hinduism. After all, Varanasi is also called the Mahashmashana - the mega cremation ground. While other cities would traditionally have the cremation ground on the southward outskirts of the city, due to associations of death and cremation with ritual impurity - Varanasi is the only one where the cremation ground is a part of the city centre, Manikarnika being adjacent to the Dashashwamedh Ghat that hosts the temple of Vishwanath.

I earlier noted how Varanasi is literally a microcosm of India itself; every prominent linga, mandir and dham of Hinduism is said to be found in Varanasi as well. You do not need to venture inwards to realise that. A mere glimpse at the names of the rulers that patronised the constructions on the Ghats of the city - from Udaipur to Darbhanga to Ramnagar to Indore - is enough to realise the ritual significance this place holds for the subcontinent.

There are three other things you must do on the Ghats of Banaras.

Firstly, the Ganga Aartis at Dashashwamedh and Assi Ghat, where rituals local priests perform pooja to the holy river Ganga during sunset (Dashashwamedh) and sunrise (Assi). These elaborate, overstimulating yet elegant rituals using snake-headed lamps, rose petals, smoke of incense sticks, the sound of conch shells and peacock feathers are truly glorious to witness, and can be attended for free, from behind the priests, although they do have paid seating more closer to the ritual spot. The Morning Aarti at Assi Ghat is considerably less crowded, and I would recommend you stand at the bottom of the steps of the Ghats, to have a front-on view of the aarti. The evening aarti at Dashashwamedh, much more grander and much more popular, gets quite crowded with there being limited seating available, and I would recommend you to reach there at least an hour before the start of the Aarti to grab a seat for yourselves.

Secondly, you can hop on a boat, with the boatmen giving you a tour of the Ghats from the Ganga. There are several options available, some ferrying you from Assi to Dashashwamedh, others taking you as far as the newly constructed Namo Ghat. What I would recommend you to do is to take a shared boat tour during the evening aarti at Dashashwamedh, who will not only give you a tour of around half of the 84-odd Ghats of Banaras, but also allow you to view the aarti from the boat itself, allowing you to enjoy a front-on view of the festivities that is, quite frankly, a much superior way to witness it than from behind. The standard fare in April ‘25 was 200/- per person for both activities in the smaller boat, and if you’re their first customer of the night, you can negotiate down to around 150/- (which is what I did).

The third activity to be done at the Ghats is to take a boat to the Fort at Ramnagar, the residence of the former ruling dynasty of Benaras, and it still houses a king - the so-called Maharaja of Benaras, self-styled Kashi Naresh Anant Narayan Singh, although that title means nothing in a modern republic, his worth being constitutionally no more or no less than a pauper like me or you.

Spoilers - I did not actually undertake this activity, choosing to visit the Fort via its regular entrance after taking an auto across the Shastri Bridge, which I ended up largely regretting. The area where tourists are permitted to enter inside the Fort premises is mostly limited to the museum showcasing the belongings and weapons of the former royal family - quite frankly a disappointing collection, not well-maintained or well-cleaned either. The grand facade of the Fort, which may be its main attraction, is not visible to those who choose to visit it from inside either, and it would be a better option to ask boatwallahs to ferry you to the banks of the Fort if you are interested in passing some time there (I do not have any experience with booking such a tour myself, but I would guess that boats should be available from Assi Ghat, it being the closest major Ghat to the Fort).

For those interested in history, mythology, and culture, I would recommend you to check out the Bharat Kala Bhavan museum in the Banaras Hindu University campus - which has a wonderful collection, ranging from artefacts of the Indus Valley Civilisation to paintings from a hundred years ago. The ticket is minimal, and photography in the premises is prohibited, although several students of the university can be seen practising their drawing skills while using the sculptures as references.

And lastly, one of my favourite finds of the tour was a small little bookstore nestled in a lane behind Assi Ghat - Harmony Bookstore, run by Rakesh Singh, who has great knowledge about the books that are housed inside his collection, and is always up for a chat about any work that captures your imagination. There were books in Hindi and English to be found on politics, philosophy, design, sociology, religion, history, art and more. I asked him for recommendations on readings on the history of Banaras, having been halfway-through City of Light at the time, and he promptly recommended “Kashi ka Itihaas” by Motichandra to me, saying that it was the most comprehensive guide to Varanasi’s history for those just getting into the subject. This book, alongside some bookmarks bought from Assi, remain the only souvenirs that I kept for myself from the trip, memories of a lifetime - my first solo trip since 2023.

I presume there must be people with a depleted attention span who could not move beyond the first few paragraphs of this article and deduce that Kashi is a terribly managed city not worth stepping foot in ever again. But not all is bad in Banaras. I would not be lying when I say that the Ghats of the city do have a certain charm to it, and while it is difficult to romanticize the dirty gullies of the inner city, I will surely find myself returning to the shores of the Ganga, to aimlessly stroll from Assi to Adi Keshava, to relish the rays of sunshine that emerge from the forests across the banks right after dawn, to take in the serenity of Lalita Ghat while enjoying a sip of lemon tea, and above all, to witness the glory of the mighty river that has carried a civilisation on her banks for millenia - a civilisation that finds its every part confluencing at the city of light.

A detailed review of all the food I had on my trip to the city is in progress, and will be released soon enough, either this Monday or Tuesday.

Most historical references and facts were taken from Diana L. Eck’s wonderful book, “Banaras: City of Light”. It is a wonderfully compiled scholarly work that I would recommend to every person interested in the history of Kashi, and for those looking for a companion to their trip to the city.

Last month, an old school friend and I decided to meet for the first time in 5 years over breakfast, and we decided to hit up one of the Old City’s most popular spots - Chandravilas on Gandhi Road, one of the best examples of the city’s living heritage. This shop, founded at the turn of the century in the year 1900, is not merely one of those old, dilapidated shops that you find in every city, reputed to be the best in its respective offerings. Chandravilas has had significant cultural contributions to the traditions and food culture of not just Amdavad, but Gujarat as a whole. It is believed that the tradition of eating Fafda-Jalebi on Dusshera was popularised by them around a hundred years ago - a tradition that is now so wide-spread across the state that it is not uncommon to see customers line up outside sweet shops as much as eight hours before breakfast starts. They’re also said to have invented the Gujarati Thali - which is an absolutely insane legacy to have associated with your restaurant. The ubiquity of the Gujarati Thali is not unknown to people who have visited the region, and to think that it all started merely a century ago from a restaurant in Old Amdavad is insane to think of. This is on par with a shop being able to boast that they invented the Chhole Bhatuure, the Samosa, the Biryani or the Fuchka. There exist giants amongst men, and Chandravilas is the food equivalent of a Charizard.

We went there for breakfast - a time when the City is asleep; the shutters of shops are closed, the pot-bellied businessmen are fast asleep and the labourers are preparing themselves for a day of back-breaking manual work. This was the first time in years that I saw the major arteries of the City free of human movement. The streets were empty and did not feel cramped, there were no markets in front of the Teen Darwaza to obstruct my view of it, and the cacophony of the retailers was replaced by the morning song of the koyal. The city was devoid of its hustle and bustle that gives it life, but the emptiness that followed gave it a wonderful charm that is perhaps only witnessed for a few daylight hours everyday. We ordered their Fafda-Jalebi and Khandwi, and skipped the Gujarati Thali for now.

(In case I have the Thali, or any other item of theirs in the near future, I will update this blog with my review of it as well.)

The Fafda-Jalebi was incredible. Besan flour with a sprinkle of black pepper powder that is rolled and flattened by hand in an incredibly skillful process, before being deep-fried and served with a side of a raw papaya chutney, a besan-based kadhi, deep-fried de-seeded green chillies, and piping hot Jalebi. The fafda is flat, yet, rounded and open from the top, and doubly acts as a spoon that can be used to scoop up the two chutneys served with it. Chandravilas continues to make their fafdas the old way – being extraordinarily longer than its competitors, and quite thin but not excessively soft or breakable; just the right thickness and texture that you need from a quality fafda. Barring the jalebi, which was fairly sweet, the taste of everything served was quite simple, mild, and rustic, and the green chillies weren’t spicy at all, which is a welcome sign. The taste of black pepper in the fafda was barely noticeable, and the raw papaya chutney was simple and not too intense. For some people, it would be right up their alley, but I prefer my fafdas to have a bit of a kick from the pepper to go with the simple flavours of the besan, and the papaya side to be a bit more flavourful as the slight sourness acts as a good contrast to the slightly-spicy-but-mostly-bland fafda.

The Khandvi, rolled besan layers flavoured with tempered white sesame seeds, coriander leaves and fried green chillies, was as soft as a touch-me-not and fell apart in my hands as soon as a road constructed by the BMC does. Good Khandvi usually has a slightly sour undertaste to it, thanks to buttermilk being used during the cooking process, but this wasn’t so at all, instead, being on the spicier side thanks to a generous sprinkle of red chilli powder (and other assorted masalas) on the layers of the Khandvi. This is not a complaint; merely an observation, and the Khandvi was an excellent addition to our breakfast platter.

Perhaps I was too obsessed with a narrow understanding of what “heritage” entails in the initial paragraphs of this piece. Of course, the ability to admire the great details of medieval structures at peace, whether it be grand monuments, old mosques or dilapidated forts, is an important part of appreciating a city’s heritage. And experiencing the Teen Darwaza, arguably the second-most iconic symbol of the city, at an hour sans mayhem was a beautiful experience that I will never forget for the rest of my life. But heritage is also the people, the long-standing institutions, the markets, the hustle and bustle, the commodities traded and manufactured. Modern culture is mixed with the old - whether it be a 700-year old tomb complex of a Queen being repurposed by locals as a space where oxidised jewellery and mukhvaas is sold, or an institution as old as Chandravilas adopting modern aspects of Gujarati fusion food culture by including the cheese dosa and gwalior dosa on its menu. The commotion that I noticed as a child was not merely an obstruction to observing heritage, but heritage in itself, molded and shaped by the cultural institutions and economic realities of modern day. The sign displayed on Chandravilas’ entrance proudly displays celebrities that swear by its fare, from political leaders like Narendra Modi and MK Gandhi to Bollywood actors like the Big B and Raj Kapoor, with huge text plastered over the top, saying that their legacy was built by the VIPs who’ve visited it over the years. Perhaps, this is irrelevant. It is a disservice to the legacy of Chandravilas to say that a few VIPs are what made the place what it is today. The true legacy of the institution is in it having revolutionised Gujarati cuisine for the remainder of eternity, and being able to maintain relevance despite being older than laminated glass and penicilin.

But back to the review. This place is still a classic, but despite the century (and more!) of history that is associated with this establishment, I can’t say that this is the *best* place I’ve had fafda-jalebi at. In fact, I don’t have a definitive answer as to what the best place for Gujarati breakfast in the city is – in part because I feel the quality of food in the city is pretty damn good regardless of locality, in part because my explorations when it comes to food in Amdavad are quite limited (there are three banger breakfast spots just opposite my house, not to mention food cooked at home, so I don’t really have an incentive to explore the city!). My suggestion to people who visit the city is always to just have some breakfast at a popular sweet shop close to the hotel they’re staying at, and it usually elicits a positive review from whatever spot they decide to go to. At the same time, it cannot be denied that Chandravilas has had an incredible impact on the city’s food culture, and is one of the few pre-independence eateries of the city that still stand strong, so if you have some time to kill, and don’t mind making an early-morning trek to Gandhi Road, the Fafda that has fuelled the city for the past 125 years will be waiting for you.

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Recommendations:

Fafda (8/10), Jalebi (9.5/10), Khandwi (8.25/10)

Location:

Gandhi Rd, Near Ratan Pol, Old City, Tankshal, Khadia, Ahmedabad, Gujarat 380001

That is when I was introduced to Magic Chicken by my best friend, Poham. This small, unassuming roadside haunt in Amdavad’s Juhapura serves a limited menu – Chicken Shawarma, American Broasted Chicken, Shavai, and Al Faham – a huge contrast to traditional street food in Amdavad, which is a largely Tawa-based meat culture with each stall serving dozens of options in every meat imaginable. Places serving Arabic delicacies are quite rare, and I speculate whatever rise there is in the number of joints serving an Al Faham or Shavai (common at several food parks such as the one opposite Karnavati Club) to be a phenomenon that can be credited to the popularity of Magic Chicken. Eight years ago, my first introduction to the world of elite non-vegetarian food was through their Chicken Shawarma and Al-Faham, an incident that I retain vivid memories of to this date.

The chicken was slowly grilled over a vertical broiler, finely chopped up and added to a fresh, soft Pita bread, followed by a generous lather of creamy, garlicky Toum and an addition of lettuce and chopped green chillies, then rolled up and served with a salad of chopped carrots and green chilli soaked in vinegar. A bite of the Shawarma transported me to heaven – the juicy, slightly charred chicken wonderfully blending with the thick Toum that overflows out of your mouth with the first bite – the occasional vinegar from the salad and spice from the chillies adding much heterogeneity to the classic roll. I have never* set foot on the Arabian peninsula, and may never get the opportunity to in my lifetime, but I can confidently (and perhaps incorrectly, but I don’t care) boast that this little mishmash of ingredients can rival the very best that the Saudis or Emiratis have to offer.

Their other three offerings are grilled in a rotisserie, and chopped up to be served by the quarter; the Al Faham being prepared in a spicy marinade of cumin and chilli, the Shavai being relatively milder, and the American Broasted being served with a side of French Fries, in true Yank fashion. Regardless of what you order, you can expect to be served extremely tender meat, with even the traditionally “harder” cuts breaking at a feather’s touch, alongside a coating of spice that wonderfully covers the crispy skin. Out of the three, I recommend the spicier Al-Faham, but honestly, their grilled delicacies aren’t as big an outlier as their rolls are, and do leave room for improvement – I particularly felt that the spices did not seep into the meat much, leaving a slightly bland taste in your mouth.

Juhapura has its origins in a locality first developed to house slum-dwellers displaced by the 1973 Sabarmati floods. Over the past two decades, it has grown into one of India’s largest Muslim ghettos, its population estimated to be anywhere between 3 and 5 lakhs, a largely self-sustaining economy that receives little to no help from the state government. Juhapura emerged as a new home for Muslims who fled communal violence in the riots of the 1990s and early 2000s, events that altered the shape of Amdavad permanently, as the city began to become segregated on communal lines, and has remained so ever since, with the ruling BJP effectively criminalising inter-religious property transfers by classifying vast swathes of the city as “Disturbed Areas” despite no communal clashes since decades. The residents of Juhapura continue to fight an uphill battle. They receive little to no assistance from the state despite a relatively central position in the city, not too far from the bustling corporate offices of Prahladnagar or the city’s APMC, and are forced to fend for themselves even when it comes to the basic amenities of health and education.

In a city that is often openly hostile towards their own eating habits and ways of life, Magic Chicken has firmly established itself as one of the best non-vegetarian food chains in the city, and is perhaps one of the few local meat restaurants that has entered the collective cultural imagination of the average, slightly upwardly mobile Hindu Amdavadi. While food habits in Amdavad continue to be collectively policed by the state and Hindu society alike, anecdotally, I feel like the number of places that serve non-vegetarian food, particularly those that are targeted towards the upper middle class, have only increased multifold in the city in the past few years, even in localities that have traditionally been almost exclusively vegetarian, a phenomenon that I presume is the result of expanded skilled migration to the city from various states and cultures, creating a demand for meat that cuts across religious affiliations. The rise of food delivery platforms like Zomato and Swiggy also mean that food joints in Muslim ghettos such as Juhapura or various parts of Old Amdavad can also be accessible to foodies who live far away. Magic Chicken, which serves the more well-known Shawarma compared to Gujarati tawa places or bakeries, was a tailor-fit for these conditions, and has almost become a staple of meatsick employees working in corporate parks in the close-by Prahladnagar and Ambli areas. No other Muslim or local non-veg eatery in the city has enjoyed the fame that Magic has, not even the neighbouring Rajdarbar (which perhaps nobody outside Juhapura knows about). Thanks to their sky-rocketing popularity, they have opened multiple branches with expanded seating areas and menus in various parts of the city, ranging from the upper middle-class gated society of Applewoods, to the traditionally Muslim localities of the Old City. Given the circumstances they operate in and the memories that I associate with this place, there is perhaps any other restaurant in the whole world whose rise I have been so invested in and happy for. And as a recent visit to the area during Ramzan confirms, this is still the GREATEST SHAWARMA IN THE WORLD BABYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

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Recommendations:

Chicken Shawarma (9.75/10), Al Faham (8.5/10), Shavai (8/10), American Broasted (8/10)

Location:

Ground Floor, Regency Park Plaza, opp. Amber tower, Arshad Park, Juhapura, Ahmedabad, Gujarat 380055

A while ago, I was introduced to The Goan Bakery in Amdavad by my dear friend Vipul (who all of you should follow on Twitter and on Instagram). It is a lovely bakery with branches in Bodakdev and South Bopal (this review only covers their Bodakdev branch), with a variety of meat and vegetarian baked dishes available, most being either authentic representations of Goan food or fusions on it. All of their baked products are top-notch, but my favourite of them all has to be the Prawn Puff – a crispy, flaky pastry filled with a spicy filling of Goan-style minced prawn, spicy and slightly sour. Taking a bite of this savoury pastry took me back to the Summer of ‘24. The memories of sitting in a local Goan restaurant with friends, sampling local foods and enjoying feni, while decked out in Hawaiian shirts that got drenched in the morning rain, came rushing back to me. That three-day visit to Goa in the June of last year had me craving Goan food ever since, and I’m grateful to The Goan Bakery for fulfilling my cravings that remained unfulfilled for the better part of a year. It is not just former tourists like me who enjoy the convenience of having Goan fare in the city, but the small Goan Catholic community that stays in Amdavad also enjoys the bakery’s fare, with online testimonials describing how the authenticity and quality of food available here transports them to their days in Goa. The owners, too, are of Goan heritage, and I imagine the dream to bring Goan food to the city they live in would have been a driving factor behind the establishment of this place.

Their Mutton Puff was constructed slightly differently than the Prawn Puff, the latter being a compact, puck-shaped dish that exaggerated the crunchiness of the pastry, and its mutton counterpart being more “open” in its construction and having a slightly muted flavour. I did not enjoy it as much, the mutton being on the drier side, and the flavour of the meat not standing out as much as the flavour of prawn, but it's still a decent dish that is worth trying if it piques your curiosity.

I also enjoyed their Honey Chilli Chicken Poi Sandwich — constructed by filling fluffy Poi bread (a traditional Goan bread similar to a Pita) with pulled chicken soaked in honey chilli sauce. The Poi was immaculately baked, extremely soft and fluffy, and did not have much of a taste of its own, which was quite the departure from what I had in Goa, where the Poi was slightly harder, and had somewhat of a wheaty taste to it. This should not be mistaken as a complaint. The soft, somewhat tasteless Poi at Goan Bakery goes perfectly with the strongly flavoured and tender Honey Chilli Chicken that fills it.

What I looked forward to eating the most was their Chorizo Pao, the quest of which has eluded me for several months now. A twitter mutual insisted that Chorizo Pao was a must-try on my visit to Goa, but I surprisingly could not find it anywhere, and even got hurled abuses at by a vendor who took great offense to me assuming he would sell it. Months passed by, and I finally visited the establishment that is the subject of this piece, and my eyes lit up once I saw the words “Chorizo Pao” plastered over their display, only for my pupils to constrict in sadness once I realised that they were out of stock. A few weeks later, I returned again, hopeful to get my hands on this elusive dish, and was grateful to see one Chorizo Pao left in the bakery, and quickly grabbed it up before a rival customer could beat me to it. The Goan Bakery’s version of a Chorizo Pao takes a slight break from tradition, and does not feature a “pao” per say, but rather, an incredibly fluffy bun, garnished with black and white sesame seeds and filled with spicy pork sausage. This was one of the more interesting items I had here, and I would definitely recommend it to everyone. However, it is to be noted that the sausage filling is not made in-house, and is sourced from Porky’s packaged Goan Pork Sausages, which they sell in their store as well. Perhaps this would explain why the sausage filling was slightly more sour than expected, presumably because of the excess use of vinegar as a preservative to lengthen the shelf-life of a packaged product. I do not know if the fillings of their other fare is sourced from third parties or not, but it is always quite disappointing to learn that a food item you enjoyed was not entirely made in-house, and often evokes a Ramsay-esque reaction in me (albeit I am much less critical of the restaurants). Regardless, it’s worth trying if in the area.

Lastly, their Serra Durra, a Portuguese dessert made by layering whipped cream and crumbled biscuits. They serve a variety of Serra Durras, including in Biscoff, Caramel and Kunafa. I had the Classic Serra Durra, and it was good, but I felt the flavours were slightly muted from what I had in Goa (I recommend Bhatti in Nerul in particular), although the contrasting texture of the fluffy whipped cream and the crumbly biscuits was absolutely spot-on.

There was a lot more that I could not have, such as their Fruit Cakes, Babkas and Caramel Custard, as well as several to-go items that were too inconvenient to sample, such as freshly-made breads, cinnamon & raisin knots, Poi bread, ready-made Goan pickles, and ready-to-eat Goan curries. I feel it would be helpful to mention the availability of the same for people potentially wanting to visit.

I presume that I am not the only person in the city who fondly misses Goa. For many of us, Goa represents friendship, and the memories of the state are associated with some of the best times of our lives. For Amdavadis who have visited the state, this small bakery can remind us of the days spent with friends roaming around a wonderful paradise — the first trips of our lives with the people we love, the vigour of youth on the beaches and in the hostels, the carefree days of being an adolescent without responsibilities. One small bite of a Babka or a Serra Durra has the power to teleport you back to that fabled land, to a time when you weren’t bogged down by corporate mazdoori. For the Goan diaspora of the city, this bakery serves as a reminder of home — a bite of Poi bread reminding them of their grandmother’s house in the village, a morsel of Chorizo Pao which they would sneakily eat coming back from school or university. This place is more than just a physical space for most of its patrons; above all else it serves a reminder of the cherished times gone by.

Recommendations:

Prawn Puff (9/10), Mutton Puff (7/10), Chorizo Pao (8.25/10), Serra Durra (7.5/10)

Location:

Bodakdev Outlet: Shop No. 1 & 2, Corporate House, Judges Bunglow Rd, near Pakvan Char Rasta, Bodakdev, Ahmedabad, Gujarat 380054

South Bopal Outlet: Shop No. 3, Stella, opp. Flora Ixora, near Marigold, South Bopal, Ahmedabad, Gujarat 380058

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One such group is the Parsis - the group of Zoroastrians that arrived in India around 1000 years ago, fleeing religious persecution that started in the 7th century with the emergence and spread of Islam. Not much remains of the history of journey, except for a late 16th century text known as the Qissa-i-Sanjan (Story of Sanjan), written around six centuries after their first estimated date of arrival. Per this text, this group of Zoroastrians were originally inhabitants of Persia, residing in Greater Khorasan, and fled to a major port city by the Arabian Sea following religious persecution after the fall of the Sassanids. From there, they set sail for the island of Diu on the Kathiawar Peninsula, and eventually ended up settling in southern Gujarat and establishing the settlement of Sanjan after being granted asylum by the local king, on the conditions that they adopt the local language and assimilate to the local culture. The Parsis eventually settled in various towns across Gujarat, such as Valsad, Navsari and Udvada, the latter of which continues to host the oldest fire temple of India, and have been an inseparable part of Gujarati culture ever since.

Bawa Bistro in Navrangpura pays homage to the Parsi heritage of Gujarat. This small haunt was founded by Tiraz Commessariat, a Parsi himself, around a year ago, and has quickly become one of my most-loved restaurants in Ahmedabad. I’ve had around a third of their menu and every single dish of theirs is a flawless banger, and is a perfect representation of authentic Parsi food that everyone must try.

Their Russian Cutlets are extremely light-weight, they’re fried but do not come across as oily, and contain a wonderfully crispy coating that contrasts extremely well with the soft, gooey and cheesy filling.

Their Chicken Farchas, a traditional Parsi take on the fried chicken, are so wonderfully golden you could mistake them for a Padma Bhushan medal, and I’m going to be honest, this dish probably deserves one. The chicken is extremely tender, the coating of breadcrumbs gives it a slightly grainy texture, and is only mildly flavoured with basic masalas, which allows the beautiful cuts of meat to shine. It is served with a viscous cheesy dip which goes decently with the chicken, but can be avoided too.

Dhansak is a traditional slow-cooked Parsi dish which is usually only prepared on Sundays owing to its long preparation time. It is a stew of mutton, lentils and vegetables, which is slow-cooked over the course of several hours, and served with caramelised rice topped with some small meatballs or kebabs. The Dhansak at Bawa Bistro was incredibly mellow, the mix of the flavours of the meat and lentils coming through the gravy, and the pieces of mutton were as tender as cotton candy, almost immediately melting in your mouth.

Their Patra ni Macchi is prepared by coating fillets of freshly sourced Black Pomfret (they can prepare it with White Pomfret instead if you inform them a day prior) with a mixture of coconut chutney, coriander chutney, and lemon. The fish is then wrapped in banana leaves and steamed until ready. The final product is an incredibly tender fish that breaks apart on touch, covered in a tangy, coconut-y mixture that kept recurring in my dreams for days on end. This is perhaps the best thing that they serve here and I am incredibly grateful to not be allergic to seafood.

Their Kheema Pav is an ode to the various Irani Cafes of Bombay, where the dish is said to have been invented. Their Kheema is finely ground, and you can taste the flavours of the coriander, black pepper, cumin and other masalas that give it a strong, rich, mellow flavour that is best with their fluffy pavs.

For vegetarian main courses, I recommend Khursheed’s Badami Paneer, cubes of cottage cheese served in a creamy almond gravy, and the Sali Papetti, the vegetarian counterpart of the Sali Boti, which has soft and savoury vegetarian kebabs in a tomato-based gravy topped with Sali, or, crunchy potato strips similar to many Gujarati farsans.

For dessert, try their Caramel Custard, which is the appropriate amount of sweet, incredibly bouncy and soft, or, you could try their Lagan Nu Custard, a baked dessert traditionally served at Parsi weddings, that is just as soft but is topped with assorted dry fruits and gets its underlying flavour from there, not from the sugary caramel of the former. Honestly, their desserts are so good it may as well be worth it to come here just for them.

Finally, don’t forget to order Pallonji’s Sodas, a staple at many Bombay Irani Cafes, to douse the food down with. Honestly, all of them are incredible and unique in their own ways, but I recommend Raspberry and Ice-Cream Soda in particular. The sweet, tarty, and fizzy raspberry soda has virtually become an emblem of Parsi food, ever since Pallonji’s started their soda operations in Bombay in 1865. The Ice Cream Soda tastes like a mixture between a coke float in a bottle and fennel seeds. It is perhaps the most unique soda I have tasted in my 22 years of professional soda drinking career and I keep craving for a bottle every time I sit for dinner.

The impacts of migration from Iran, and assimilation into Gujarati culture, is visible in the cuisine of the Parsis. Patra ni Macchi borrows from Gujarati-style Patra – steamed colocasia leaves coated with spiced besan and topped with coconut. It may be the case that the slow-cooking of the lentils and meat for the Dhansak was a tradition carried over from Persia, but over time, the dish adopted spices commonly available in Gujarat. Parsi cuisine is an incredibly unique, beautiful and flavourful one, and I’m glad that institutions such as The Bawa Bistro continue to keep the cuisine’s legacy alive.

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Recommendations:

Chicken Farcha (9.5/10), Russian Cutlets (9.5/10), Patra Ni Macchi (9.75/10), Mutton Kheema Pav (9.25/10), Mutton Dhansak (9.5/10), Lagan nu Custard (9.75/10), Caramel Custard (9.75/10), Sali Papeti (9/10), Khursheed’s Badami Paneer (8/10)

Strongly recommend grabbing a Pallonji’s Soda, preferably Raspberry or Ice Cream, as well.

Address:

Ground Floor-4, M Square, Opposite Kalopsia, Princess Ln, Swastik Society, Navrangpura, Ahmedabad, Gujarat 380009

Eventually, we decided not to hedge our bets further, and headed off to one of Ahmedabad’s most popular bakeries - Upper Crust, which is owned and managed by Lester D’Souza, the son of a Goan Catholic migrant to the city. Since being founded by Mr. D’Souza in 1989, Upper Crust has now grown into an incredibly successful brand of bakeries, restaurants and caterers, with several branches all across Gujarat.

Traditionally, plum cakes have their origins in Victorian England, when it was common to break the period of Advent, the few weeks before Christmas where Christians fast and refrain from indulgences in anticipation of the birth of Jesus, and was done so with a plum porridge (also known as Christmas Pudding) in those times, although, the dish resembled a cake more than it did a “pudding”. In 1883, it was a Scottish merchant by the name of Murdock Brown who requested Mambally Bapu, the owner of a bakery in Kerala, if he could bake a cake for him on Christmas. Mambally Bapu obliged, and the experiment was a success, and the plum cake cemented its place in Indian culinary history. Eventually, with the spread of Christianity, and of colonial rule in India, the plum cake spread to the rest of the country, and it seems as though the consumption of plum cake on Christmas is a uniquely Indian phenomenon*, with the recipe being used for the Indian “plum cake” being oddly similar to the Victorian “plum pudding”, most notably the similarity in ingredients - dried fruits, lemon peel, and generous use of alcohol stands out. (*Note: don’t cite me on this, I won’t be shocked if it is inaccurate).

Upper Crust has had an annual tradition of baking plum cakes for Christmas for the past 25 to 30 years. Preparation starts several months before the holiday season, when a variety of fruits, ranging from walnuts, almonds, lemon and orange peel, cashew nuts and cherries, are mixed and let to soak in a burnt caramel sauce for months, only opened when its time to bake it. The most notable omission from Upper Crust’s plum cake recipe is rum and brandy, two ingredients very commonly used at this stage (the former more so in India, the latter seems to be more popular in English plum puddings), probably due to alcohol prohibition laws in the state of Gujarat where Upper Crust operates.

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But the lack of this key ingredient does not deter Upper Crust’s plum cake from being a scrumdiddlyumptious piece of goodiness. Their plum cake is undeniably one of the richest desserts I’ve ever had. The first bite is an avenue into a mesmerizing wonderland, with a mixture of flavours surrounding you like bees onto nectar, the flavours getting clearer and more noticeable with each successive bite, indulgences that open doors into the magical worlds of zesty lemon peel and fruity cherries. Most importantly, there is no excess sugar added to the dish, a mistake that far too many Indian confectionaries and bakeries are guilty of, which does the virtue of not overpowering the components of the cake, allowing them to shine on themselves.

Upper Crust also has a few other pastries in their seasonal Christmas menu, most notably their Yule Log cakes and their Gingerbread Houses. We only tried the former, which were chocolate cakes wrapped in whipped cream and topped with chocolate frosting, but honestly, they’re nothing too special, skippable.

If you’re in Ahmedabad till the holiday season is ongoing, or if you’re reading this review in the future, I cannot urge you enough to go and pack some plum cakes from Upper Crust to have while binging the first two Home Alone movies. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all of you!

Recommendations:

Plum Cakes (9.5/10), Yule Logs (6.5/10)

Note that they have other pastries (and food items, depending on the branch you visit) that I have had over the years, but am not reviewing for the purposes of this review, which is focused on their Christmas Menu. In case I were to review those in the future, they will be done in a separate post.

Location:

Multiple Locations around Ahmedabad

One of these restaurants is your destination for today – Yaseen Hotel, at the corner of the lane that runs just opposite the Jama Masjid. You enter the shop and order a serving of Nihari with their Khameeri Rotis. Shortly after sitting, you are handed your plates – a steaming hot stew with chunks of meat floating like a tropical island surrounded by a sea of lava, two hot khameeri rotis, fresh from the tandoor, and some ginger and chillies for you to garnish on top. You break a piece of the roti and dip it into the stew. Parts of the potion stick to your bread almost immediately – this concoction has been simmering in a cauldron overnight, and is desperate to break free from its roots and enter a world where it can serve its purpose – of being satisfactory to human tastebuds. A bite of the roti is a canvas painted in Nihari Maroon, and your mouth lights up immediately. Another bite, this time with a piece of the meat, which is as fragile as a tower of Jenga in a game with your eight your old nephew, and the avalanche outside is a distant memory by now. A volcano explodes in your mouth with every bite, your body getting some much-needed warmth from the piping hot stew. The rich gravy of the Nihari, with a wonderfully imparted meaty flavour, one that is on the spicier side of the spectrum thanks to the overnight courtship of the meat, spices, chillies and ginger, coupled with juicy, tender chunks of meat that bring much-needed heterogeneity to this meal, to create the best breakfast in the world.

While Chhole-Bhatuure is a much more ubiquitous breakfast in Dilli, I prefer the city’s Nihari by a country mile, and so wish it were more readily available in the city outside Muslim ghettos in morning hours. It derives its name from the Arabic word “Nahaar”, meaning morning, owing to it being a spicy meat stew that is slow-cooked overnight, for over 6 to 8 hours, and served in the morning as breakfast after the Islamic fajr prayers that happen at dawn. There are many stories behind the origin of Nihari, but it is commonly believed that it originated in the medieval era both as a hearty meal for Mughal royalty to have after their fajr prayer, and as an energy booster for labourers working in construction sites.

With growing modernity and changing lifestyles, the Nihari is now relished at various times of the day, with restaurants serving it for lunch and dinner as well, due to it being rather unfeasible for corporate karamcharis to regularly wake up and jog out at 7 am for a spicy bowl of mutton stew. But the experience of battling Dilli’s arctic mornings to have this dish is a uniquely rewarding one. I’ve had better Niharis in the past, the neighbouring Hilal is my personal favourite, but this meal made me feel like I had to work for it, and that probably enhanced the flavour too.

Perhaps few seasons are more awaited than winter is in Dilli. The bone-chilling winds that arrive come November provide much-needed respite to the otherwise scorching heat of the Northern Plains. There is not a single Dilliwallah who does not have fond memories of the winter, whether it be frolicking around the medieval monuments of Lodhi Road hand in hand with a lover, or having a piping hot cup of chai on a chilly evening stroll at Connaught Place. Some enjoy the blooming of the Kachnar trees, and others relish the cold by taking auto rides late at night. Winter in Dilli is an emotion like no other, one that only those who have stayed in Dilli are capable of understanding. It is quite unfortunate that over the past decade or so, winters in Dilli have turned into a death trap. Pollution spikes in the colder months have made the city unbreathable, and the lack of political will by any front to solve the issue might mean that the best of Dilli winter is behind us, relegated to the pages of diaries and travelogues and mere images in the memories of older Dilliwallahs. Younger residents of the city would probably be perplexed by their elders’ tales of the romance of the Dilli winter, narrated to them with teary eyes and coughing throats. The winter is dead, it has been killed, and it has killed scores of residents along with it. Yet, some Dilliwallahs continue to enjoy whatever is left of the city’s winter. They persevere the smog to be able to put on their sweaters and go out for a morning jog. They wake up early in the mornings to be able to eat hot chhole bhatuure and aloo paranthas when the temperature is in single-digits. This approach to life is most certainly absurd, and one that I do not endorse, but at the end of the day, love is hardly a rational thing.

If you’re a lover of Dilli’s winter, or a lover of Mughlai food, you must experience an early morning Nihari once in your stay in the city. It is not an exaggeration to say that a plate of spicy, overnight-cooked meat stew in freezing single-digit weather might fundamentally redefine the relationship that you have with this city and its food. Just don’t order the chicken variant of it. Please.

Recommendations:

Buffalo Nihari (8/10), Mutton Nihari (8/10)

Location:

Gali No. 1, 8173, Daryaganj, Shop No. 4 5, Opposte, Matia Mahal Rd, Jama Masjid, Old, Division, New Delhi, Delhi 110006

The issue with nostalgic representations of, anything, is that it paints a false picture of entities for the rest of the world to see. For when you re-visit a spot with rose-tinted glasses, you do not experience it as it is, you often tend to experience it as it was. The capacity of nostalgia clouding our judgement, both in new things we experience which we sub-consciously perceive to be sub-par, and in old things that we often have a heightened memory of, is also one of the reasons why people are so tribalistic about things that are immensely personal to them - such as food. To a third person, the endless bickering about whether Mumbai’s food versus Delhi food, or Bangalore’s Dose versus Chennai’s Dosa, seems pointless and almost comical, as the truths about both places are not as extreme as people’s memories tend to make it out to be.

It is fairly harmless for people to have rose-tinted memories of the past. It isn’t worth policing the way people perceive space and time, and if someone wants to stay delusional about how Delhi chaat is the best thing to have been invented since the wheel, then that is harmless at the least and slightly annoying at maximum. What I find rather questionable is when influencers and self-styled travel vloggers paint a dishonest picture for their audience at large, purposefully leaning in to reaffirming popular opinions about a particular food place instead of offering their own individual opinions or takes on the matter. This is one of the many reasons why I dislike Instagram Reels and YouTube Shorts. It is less about individual vloggers organically discovering places to eat, and offering their take on whether popular spots are actually worth the trek or not, and more about people jumping on the newest hype train and regurgitating the pre-formed consensus about a particular shop or dish, as that is the most sure-shot and low-effort way to get shares and likes.

Depaul’s in Janpath is not your conventional snack corner. It was started in 1952 as a cosmetic store, but grew in popularity after 1969, when it began selling cold coffee, which it is still known for. A few years later, it started offering snacks with its coffee, and throughout the 70’s it established itself as one of the more popular coffee places in Delhi, a title that was earned by the lack of other coffee shops in the vicinity and its location in the heart of the city, leading it to become popular amongst students from the nearby Delhi University.

Almost any mention of Depaul’s online features vloggers and bloggers alike raving about its “iconic”, “balanced” coffee with “tasty” snacks at an “affordable” price-point. This is not unexpected for a shop of this popularity, but as far as I have noticed, other shops with a similar level of popularity at least have some level of negative publicity. There are enough people on the internet screaming about Karim’s overrated fare and listing better momo places than Dolma Aunty’s. In contrast, there seems to be very little negative publicity of Depaul’s online, which I find quite ironic because it was easily the most overrated piece of food that I have had in my stay in Delhi. The cold coffee is neither cold, nor coffee, and the term “Lukewarm Powdered Water” would be a more accurate descriptor of what Depaul’s serve in their iconic bottles, flavourless and watery, and to describe their snacks as “average” would be a compliment. The momo have a weirdly thick, chewy exterior and do not contain much filling inside, and their much popular cheeseballs do have a decently crispy coating on the outside but that’s where the positives end, the filling is similarly disappointing. I had low expectations when I went in to eat Depaul’s, and it still managed to disappoint me. Well done.

It is not wrong for food influencers to pander to nostalgic sentiments. There is great value in acknowledging and documenting the food places that have shaped our cities’ histories. That does not mean you paint a dishonest picture of their food for views and shares. You can appeal to nostalgic sentiments while acknowledging the sharp decline in quality of one’s offerings. Else, it is dishonest and ends up creating tourist traps that people flock to. This is one of the major reasons why I avoid watching most popular Instagrammers and always skip through the first five search results on Google when it comes to blogs. I honestly could not not recommend you to do the same.

Today, Depaul’s in Janpath stays alive in the popular imagination of Delhi thanks to middle-aged Delhiwallahs having been college students during its heyday in the 20th century. It is also an underwhelming little plastic bottle of nothingness that the city desperately clings on to, as a reminder of its past.

Recommendations:

Skip this spot.

Cold Coffee (2/10), Momo (2/10), Cheese Balls (4/10)

Location:

22, Janpath Bhawan, Janpath Rd, New Delhi, Delhi 110001

Delhi at the time was hardly fit to be the seat of the Raj. Unlike Calcutta, which had served as the capital of the Raj for around two centuries, Delhi was no more than a small town on the edge of the Punjab, synonymous with the walled city of Shahjahanabad, the last capital of the Mughal Empire, now known to modern residents of the city as Old Delhi, its four corners marked by Lahore Gate, Lal Quila, Delhi Gate and Ajmer Gate, with some additional boroughs such as Sadar Bazar, Paharganj, Nizamuddin and Firoz Shah Kotla being the only other neighbourhoods that would be identifiable to a modern Dilliwallah. Builders and architects were consulted for the new capital, housed on Raisina Hill, to be known to the world as New Delhi. Edwin Lutyens, tasked with designing the capital, envisioned New Delhi with a grand, domineering vision. The seat of power was to rival the capitals of other imperial powers, such as Rome, Paris and Washington D.C. The land earmarked south of Shahjahanabad was cut up into hexagonal boulevards surrounding the vertically – aligned government complex, known as Central Vista. Lutyens chose to blend his Greek neo-Classical vision with elements from Mughal and Buddhist architecture to create a distinctive look for New Delhi. Built were the Viceroy’s House, a Cathedral, Assembly Parliament, Secretariats, Record Offices, India Gate, a Bungalow Zone, Council Chambers, and so on.

In 1929, the construction of a commercial complex began, to be built in a similar fashion to the rest of New Delhi, to be located north of Central Vista and south of Shahjahanabad, to be known as Connaught Place, named after the Duke of Connaught who had visited India in 1921. Inspired by the Royal Crescent in Somerset, the complex was designed by RT Russell as two rings of concentric circles, marked by its Georgian architecture, double-storeyed buildings and marble-white pillars. As Delhi emerged as a seat of political power, a significant number of British elites flocked here from Calcutta and other parts of the city, who were to act as the clientele of this market. Eventually, a variety of posh establishments popped up in the market, from Dhoomi Mal Art Gallery, Jain Book Agency, Vaish Tailors, the toy store Ram Chandra and Sons, and so on, frequented by the crème de la crème of British nobility.

Mr. and Mrs. Wengers owned a bakery in Kashmere Gate. Operating since 1926, Wenger’s provided baked goods to regiments of the British army stationed in Delhi. With the opening of Connaught Place, they saw an opportunity to expand their consumer base, and quickly moved to the inner block of the circular complex, which was an area frequented by diplomats, Indian royals, businessmen and British officials. In its early years, the lobby of Wenger’s was no less than that of a grand hotel, spread across two storeys, with twenty-foot ceilings and long columns, housed within its walls were a ballroom, a party shop, a cafe, and more. The selection of items available at this place was very limited – chocolate, pineapple, vanilla and strawberry pastries, French, white and twist bread, sponge cake, Swiss chocolates, chocolate cookies, chicken and vegetable patties.

Wenger’s today is almost unrecognizable from that of 70 years back. The ownership of the establishment changed hands in 1945, with the couple selling it to the then general manager, BM Tandon, whose family continues to operate the shop till date. The exodus of its imperial clientele to Britain after independence meant the bakery had to cut down on its operations, as housing a luxurious ballroom and sprawling restaurant was no longer economically feasible. Today, the shop is limited to a small bakery, even lacking any seating, and can be expected to be packed to the brim with customers at almost all times of day. It is not just the physical appearance of the shop that has changed over the years. During the Raj, the prices of Wenger’s were quite steep, leading to most of its patrons being from the uppermost class of Indian society, and while I won’t describe their fare as particularly affordable today, it is clear that its clientele has expanded to not just civil servants and diplomats, but larger sections of Indian society who visit this place for a bite of their baked goodies. The number of items they serve, from a measly dozen or so varieties in the 1930s, has now expanded to an assortment of hundreds of patties, pastries, cakes, breads, kebabs and so on.

Walking into Wenger’s makes you feel like a child entering the magical toy store of his dreams. Hundreds of goodies are laid out in front of you, and unless you’ve come with a definite list of all you wish to try, you will be left perplexed by the assortment on display, unable to decide what you want to snack on. Over the years, I’ve tried a lot of what Wenger’s has to offer. Its patties are wonderfully flaky, filled with freshly baked chicken, mutton or vegetables. Its donuts and eclairs are delectable as well. They also serve decent Shami kebabs, though, a bit on the drier and pricier side. My favourite selection of goods from their shop, though, are their freshly-baked pastries, coated in a sea of wonderful toppings, from the glazed Rum Pastries, to the sweetness of the Pineapple Tarts, the Fruit Tarts topped with a fresh selection of kiwi slice and cherries on top, and their fragrant, vibrant Apple Slice and Blueberry Tarts. I implore you to let your inner child run wild, fall victim to the enchanting whiffs that fill the four corners of this shop, and try Wenger’s delectable assortment of goods to your heart’s content.

Connaught Place has evolved in its own ways over the years. The centre around which the complex’s concentric rings were drawn, initially an open space, came to be filled by an underground market, known as Palika Bazaar, constructed in the 1970s. Modern structures not conforming to the Georgian architectural style also popped up starting from the 1980s, such as the Jeevan Bharati Building designed by Charles Correa in red sandstone, the Jawahar Vyapar Bhavan that fuses Mughal red sandstone with Metabolism from Japan, and various other company offices located on the neighbouring roads, and today, it is one of the more important financial centres of Delhi. In a move to rid the capital’s business district from its explicitly colonial name, in 1995, Connaught Place was renamed to Rajiv Chowk, after former Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi, though it is still mostly referred to as “CP” by Dilliwallahs. An underground station at the centre of the metro network was constructed in 2005, one that serves as an important intersection between two of the longest lines of the Delhi Metro, the Yellow and Blue Lines. Connaught Place has long shed its identity as a marketplace catering to the whims and fancies of the glitterati of British society. Today, its bazaars and offices lie at the heart of a bustling metropolis, frequented by all walks of Delhi society.

This little imperial-era bakery has seen Connaught Place evolve over the years. An invaluable part of Delhi history and Delhi food heritage, Wenger’s should be on the itinerary for everyone who sets foot in Delhi.

Recommendations:

Fruit Tart (9.75/10), Pineapple Tart (9.75/10), Rum Pastry (9.5/10), Apple Slice (8.5/10), Donut (7/10), Eclair (6/10), Blueberry Tart (8.5/10), Mushroom Patties (8/10), Mutton Shami Kebab (6/10)

Location:

Shop No: A/16 Near, Road, Rajiv Chowk, Block A, Connaught Place, New Delhi, Delhi 110001

This piece aims to serve as a documentation-cum-review of the places we visited on our three-day tour to Goa. I decided to stray away from my usual style of writing (a separate blogpost for every restaurant I visit) for the purpose of this post, as I’m not too familiar with the nuances of seafood, Goan cuisine, or Goan history. Therefore, three separate pieces on three separate Fish Thaalis that I can only describe as “nice!” and “tender, with a taste of coconut!” would be both rather boring and pointless to read and write. In case I visit Goa in the future, with a better understanding of the intricacies of seafood and Goa as a whole, hopefully with the explicit goal of exploring and understanding the food culture in Goa, I might cover them in my original style of posting (that, for now, I have reserved for topics I feel more qualified to speak on, such as Punjabi, Mughlai, or Gujarati food).

Day One // Bhatti Village Family Bar & Restaurant, Nerul

Our first stop was Bhatti Village Family Bar & Restaurant, a small family - run restaurant housed in a traditional bungalow in Nerul, known for its authentic Goan cuisine. We had a handful of curries - Prawn Balchao, Pork Vindaloo, Mushroom Xacuti and Goan Veg Curry, served with Poi (a staple Goan bread), two Serradurras for dessert and a glass of Feni with complimentary soda as a mix.

The Prawn Balchao, a Goan curry with Portuguese roots, was very spicy, heavily relying on the use of red chillies for its flavour. This was our only time trying a Balchao on our short trip, so I cannot say if Bhatti’s version of the dish is the most accurate portrayal of its preparation in Goan cuisine or not, but the plate I had here was definitely too spicy to enjoy, and felt a bit unidimensional in its flavour, with the taste of red chillies being a bit too overbearing for us.

In contrast, the other meat curry we had, the Pork Vindaloo, featured wonderfully layered flavours - a perfectly spicy and tangy mixture of vinegar, red chillies and garlic being served with some of the most tender, melt-in-your-mouth pork there is to be found. The Vindaloo too, is a colonial remnant, its Portuguese ancestor being the carne de vinho e albos, or, “meat with wine and garlic”. And to clarify any misunderstanding - a Pork Vindaloo does not contain the potato! The word aloo in vindaloo refers to garlic, not potato - the latter is known as batata in Portugal, a word that has been adopted for the potato in many Indian languages as well.

Bhatti serves vegetarian variants of popular Goan dishes as well - a bite of information that would be of much use to visitors who don’t eat meat, as most locals consume meat, reflected in the eateries across the state. We had their Goan Veg Curry - vegetables such as carrots and beans in a coconut based - stew, and their Mushroom Xacuti - a light curry flavoured with white poppy seeds, grated coconut and red chilli. I enjoyed both of them, but if you’re a meat eater, I implore you to try the prawn or chicken variants of them instead.

The curries were quite homely, and didn’t feel heavy on one’s stomach as restaurant food often does. They were served with Poi - a fluffy, soft, round, traditional Goan bread that resembles the Middle Eastern pita, with the most notable differentiator amongst others being its relatively coarse external texture. The Poi was an absolute blast to have with the curries, but if you wish, you can have some rice on the side instead.

On the side, I ordered a glass of Cashew Feni, a local liquor produced by squashing Cashew Apples and fermenting the juice that is made from it, which came with some complimentary soda. The Feni was quite strong, as it typically contains around 40% alcohol content, and I honestly really enjoyed the taste of it - probably the only time I have felt so for a glass of alcohol. The soft aftertaste of cashew that lingers in your mouth long after you’ve taken a sip is to die for, and if you have ungodly amounts of this beverage, you might as well (this is not legal advice. do not give yourself alcohol poisoning over a silly joke made on the internet)!

For dessert, we ordered two Serradurras - a lovely Portuguese dessert of condensed milk and whipped cream, topped with a generous sprinkle of crushed Marie biscuits. A simple, elegant way to end our meal, the Serradurra is something that I’ll recommend every visitor to Goa have.

Recommendations:

Pork Vindaloo (9.5/10), Prawn Balchao (7.75/10), Mushroom Xacuti (7/10), Goan Veg Curry (8/10), Feni (9.75/10), Serradurra (9.5/10)

Location:

Bhatti Waddo, Nerul, Goa 403114

Piccola Roma Pizzeria, Vagator

Piccola Roma in Vagator serves delicious, authentic, wood-fired pizzas straight out of Italy that are worth checking out. Our introduction to this place was quite underwhelming, as a plate of their garlic bread had only three pieces, and was quite average in taste. Their pizzas, however, were the star of the show, very light and thin, baked in wood fire ovens, with a variety of toppings, and eccentric choices such as the Kamasutra Pizza and Cafreal Pizza as well! We visited this place for dinner on our first day, and ordered the Biancaneve - topped with in-house mozzarella and mushrooms, the Quattro Formaggi - the ubiquitous four-cheese pizza with mozzarella, gorganzala, smoked mozzarella and parmesan cheese and their Atomica - their version of the veggie delight - topped with diced bell pepper, onion and chillies. All three of them were excellently prepared, my favourite being the Biancaneve (due to my penchant for mushrooms). If you’re bored of having fish curries or Goan meat stews meal after meal, or if you’re a vegetarian who just wants to have some options on your plate and aren’t interested the least in the scores of Gujarati and Punjabi restaurants present in Anjuna, come to Piccola Roma and order a glass of Rose Wine (as I did) to enjoy the taste of Italy.

Recommendations:

Biancaneve (7.75/10), Quattro Formaggi (7.5/10), Atomica (7.25/10)

Avoid their Garlic Bread (4/10)

Location:

Chapora Road, Near Bharat Petrol Pump, Vagator, Goa 403509

Vinayak Family Restaurant, Asgaon

After satisfying my vegetarian friends’ appetite, we headed to Vinayak Family Restaurant in Asgaon to have some seafood. Vinayak is a restaurant very well-known for its seafood, and the meat eaters amongst us promptly ordered some Calamari (Squid) Masala and Prawn Xacuti. I am not the most passionate eater of seafood, I mostly sticked to mutton and chicken in my stay in Delhi, and while I’m quite the fan of Prawn, I hadn’t ever had Calamari before my visit to Vinayak. It is safe to say that I am now a fan of the mollusc. The Calamari Masala was nothing particurly local, just a tomato - based curry flavoured wth generic Indian spices (I don’t mean that negatively). The Prawn Xacuti was our second time having a Xacuti curry, after our previous experience at Bhatti, and perhaps it is because I was having it with meat, but I must say, I preferred Vinayak’s take on the dish more. Visiting Vinayak was a great experience a short distance from Vagator and Anjuna, and if you want to have some excellent seafood, this is the place to go.

Recommendations:

Prawn Xacuti (8/10), Calamari Masala (8/10)

Location:

House No 278, Socol Vaddo, Asgaon, Goa 403507

Day Two // Padaria Prazeres, Miramar, Panjim

Padaria Prazeres is a European - inspired bakery - cafe run by a couple, Ralph Prazeres and Stacy Gracias, located just off Miramar Beach in Panjim. We went there for brunch on our second day, and placed a hearty order of desserts, sandwiches, bagels, smoothies and other baked items.

Their Beef Brisket Sandwich featured an incredibly tender and juicy piece of brisket, garnished with little but a slice of lettuce.

The Breakfast Bagel had a touch of chia seeds on top of it, filled with cream, eggs, and a fried slice of bacon. The perfect mix of the American bagel and an American breakfast.

Their Garlic Cream Cheese Sandwich was incredibly fluffy, with a hearty smothering of cream cheese on the side. We ordered it in two different variants - the cheese and jalapeno bagel, and onion focaccia, both of which were excellent.

For dessert, we ordered a Glazed Donut and a Cinnamon Sugar Donut, both of which were very fluffy, soft and just the right amount of sweet, the perfect way to end a meal, or to pack for yourselves in case you need to grab as a short snack.

Their Pain au Chocolat was very rich, with the perfect, fluffy rise that you expect out of a croissant stuffed with a wonderfully chocolaty filling on the inside.

The Mocha Cake Slice was all you could ask for from a dessert - a fluffy, doughy slice of cake with an icing of chocolate and coffee.

We also had their Palmier - a French pastry commonly known as the elephant’s ear - which was very crunchy and not very sweet.

The Sticky Toffee Pudding was also very enjoyable. Again, very chocolaty, but with a different taste and texture from the Pain au Chocolat or the Mocha Cake Slice.

Lastly, the Berry Smoothie - which contained almost zero sugar, and was a fresh blend of blueberries, strawberries, and perhaps a few other berries that I forgot to ask the cashier.

While I haven’t waxed eloquent on the merits of each dish at this bakery, perhaps because of the small portions shared amongst 5 people which did not give me much time to ponder over the deeper meaning of consuming a breakfast bagel by the beach, this place was surely a standout for us on our trip, and it should be one for the bucket list when you’re headed to Goa.

Recommendations:

Beef Brisket (9/10), Glazed Donut (8/10), Cinnamon Sugar Donut (8/10), Breakfast Bagel (8.5/10), Garlic Cream Cheese Sandwich with Onion Focaccia (8/10), Garlic Cream Cheese Sandwich with Cheese & Jalapeno (7.5/10), Berry Smoothie (9/10), Sticky Toffee Pudding (9/10), Pain au Chocolat (8/10), Mocha Cake Slice (9/10), Palmier (8.5/10)

Location:

Celeste Plaza, Ground floor, opposite Models Celebrity, Caranzalem, Panaji, Goa 403002

Adarsh Bar & Restaurant, Bicholim

Our plan for Day Two was to hop on a ferry to Chorao Island, visit the Dr. Salim Ali Bird Sanctuary, drive through Chorao Island, and reach Harvalem Waterfalls, before heading back to Anjuna for a beachside sunset. We decided to cancel our Harvalem plan as we ended up leaving our AirBNB quite late, and after reaching Chorao Island, discovered that going to Dr. Salim Ali Bird Sanctuary wouldn’t be worth it due to an ongoing downpour, and none of the birds would be visible then. We then decided to randomly roam around Chorao Island on our scooters, taking in the rain, the greenery, the scenic views of the distant Western Ghats, the small villages we passed through, and so on. After taking a pit stop at the island’s only petrol pump in Bicholim, we went to one of the only restaurants open in the area - Adarsh Bar & Restaurant.

My vegetarian friends ordered some hakka noodles and a paneer starter, which was frankly quite mediocre (I did not take pictures). We ordered the Chicken Cafreal and King Mackerel Thaali. The former was OK. Cafreal is a Portuguese - inspired Goan curry made of green chillies, coriander and other herbs. While I didn’t have cafreal elsewhere on my trip, the one that I had at Adarsh wasn’t very inspiring.

What I enjoyed much more though, was their King Mackerel Thaali. It contained a platter of seafood items, most notably an incredibly tender fried fillet of the King Mackerel native to the waters outside Goa, some clams fried in what seemed like turmeric, red chilli powder and diced onions, and a small bowl of a prawn curry in a base of drumsticks and coconut, which was a very refreshing take on prawn which I enjoyed a lot, quite different from the Bengali Prawn Chops and Malayali Prawn Biryanis that I’m used to having back in Dilli. They served a healthy portion of rice with the seafood, as well as a slice of alphonso mango, some kokum water with green chilli and coriander, a gulab jamun, and some salad on the side. Honestly, if you ever find yourself stuck in Chorao, hungry for a meal with a partner, you could probably share this thaali between two, though you run the risk of getting in an argument as to who gets to have the sole Gulab Jamun :)

Recommendations:

King Mackerel Thaali (9/10), Chicken Cafreal (6/10)

Location:

Bicholim - Mapuca Highway Rd, Borden, Dicholi, Goa 403504

Kokni Kanteen, Altinho, Panjim

For dinner, we headed to Kokni Kanteen in Panjim, a restaurant that often shows up on lists of places to eat in Goa, and was one that was suggested to us by a few friends as well. Kokni Kanteen is a charming, cosy, old-school restaurant that has been serving delicious seafood for over 50 years now - having been established in 1972. Overwhelmed by their extensive menu serving a variety of prawn, chicken, fish and whatnot, we settled on a Malvani Crab Curry and a Red Snapper Tawa Fry, with some rice and a Kokum Soda on the side, and a Bebinca for dessert.

The Red Snapper Tawa Fry was excellent. I am not that well-versed with the world of seafood yet, so I cannot comment on how Red Snapper is different from other fish. For now, that remains a wonder of the world unknown to me, yet to be discovered. I can, however, assure you that Kokni Kanteen’s version of the Red Snapper Tawa Fry was beautifully tender, coated with a crispy, charred exterior infused by the grill. Worth trying.

My favourite dish in all of my travels in Goa, however, was the Malvani Crab Curry at Kokni Kanteen. A wonderfully tangy, spicy and peppery curry from the coastal Malvan region of Southern Maharashtra, this dish truly opened my eyes to the joys of Konkani cuisine. To put into words just how much I enjoyed this dish, I usually am only able to half-heartedly finish any curry after quickly devouring the meat that accompanies it. This was one of the only times when I truly wished that there was more curry for me to have with rice alone. This was also my first time trying Crab, and it was an enjoyable meal to have, though, very high maintenance, as deconstructing an entire crab from its legs to its pincers just to get miniature nibbles of edible food gets a bit annoying very quickly, and it makes it slightly difficult for amateur crab-eaters to gauge the taste of the meat as well.

We paired our meal with a glass of Kokum Soda, kokum being the slightly sour and tarty fruit that is produced on the west coast of India. This tangy, fizzy, spicy (as rock salt and other masalas are often added) drink was the perfect pair to our scrumdiddlyumptious seafood spread.

We ended our second day with Bebinca, a layer cake with a slight dash of coconut that is traditionally only baked during Christmas, which tasted good but was slightly underwhelming compared to the desserts we had earlier, particularly the Serradurra on Day One.

Kokni Kanteen is a spot that you should definitely check out on your trip to Goa. It more than exceeded my expectations during my visit, to the extent that I want to spend a week aimlessly loitering around Panjim, just so I can have two meals a day from this classic spot in town, and try everything that they have to offer on their menu.

Recommendations:

Crab Malvani Masala (9.75/10), Red Snapper Tawa Fry (9/10), Bebinca (7.75/10), Kokum Soda (9/10)

Location:

Dr Dada Vaidya Rd, Near Mahalaxmi Temple, Altinho, Panaji, Goa 403001

Day Three // Confeitaria 31 de Janeiro, Fontainhas, Panjim

Fontainhas is Panjim’s old Latin Quarters, also known as “that street with colourful yellow and blue houses on Instagram”. The first half of our last day in Goa saw us exploring the various streets of the area. I had also planned on cafe-and-bar-hopping the various Indo - Portuguese eateries in the area, but that plan unfortunately failed on us for reasons that would be impolite to explain, and we ended up having most of our brunch at Confeitaria 31 de Janeiro instead, a bakery that has been serving the locality since 1930.

Their Chicken Panroll was comforting, a roll of dough coated with breadcrumbs stuffed with chicken mince. Their Pork Roll was the best thing we had on our trip there, wonderfully spicy, meaty and doughy. 10/10.

Their sandwiches - Paneer Sandwich, Pesto Sandwich and Egg Grilled Sandwich were decently filling.

One of my favourite dishes I had here was the Prawn Rissois - a melt-in-your-mouth fried patty that is filled with creamy prawns and coated with crunchy breadcrumbs. Excellent.

The Chicken Mayo Roll was predictably mediocre (due to my dislike for Mayonnaise) and can be skipped.

Their Beef Puff was very meaty, and coated with a crunchy, flaky exterior of dough, which I enjoyed a lot.

For dessert, we started off with a Pastel de Nata, acustard tarts dusted with cinnamon which was flaky, soft, light and delicately spiced.

Next up was the Serradurra, though I preferred Bhatti’s version of the dish, as here, the ratio of biscuit to cream was too heavily tipped in favour of the biscuit, and it was a bit too powdery as well, got stuck in my throat a few times (Bhatti’s on the other hand was slightly coarse). This was followed by a soft and sweet New York Cheesecake, which was so delish it reminded me of why New York City is the Greatest City in the World, Baby!

Lastly was the Bolo Sans Rival, which literally means Cake without a Rival, and we made the mistake of ordering two, as it was unexpectedly larger than the previous offerings. The Bolo Sans Rival was buttery and creamy sprinkled with the flavours of vanilla and cashew in between. It was also overpoweringly sweet, not letting the other flavours in the dish shine, which lessened our opinion of it.

My musings on the individual dishes at Confeitaria remain limited to a sentence or two each, similar to my takes on Padaria Prazeres, for similar reasons as well.

Recommendations:

Pork Roll (9.5/10), Prawn Rissois (9.5/10), Beef Puff (9.5/10), New York Cheesecake (9/10), Pastel de Nata (9/10), Chicken Pan Roll (7/10), Chicken Mayo Roll (4/10), Serra Durra (6/10), Bolo Sans Rival (6.75/10), Sandwiches (7.75/10)

Joseph Bar, Fontainhas, Panjim

Joseph was the only bar I managed to visit in Fontainhas, mostly because none of my friends drink alcohol. This small, blue, rustic tavern takes you back to the 1970s, and is a great spot to hang out with your friends, and to try the multiplicity of cocktails that they offer on their menu. I had their Kokum Feni which was an absolutely wonderful mixture of local flavours, and will surely be visiting this place on future visits for more.

Recommendations:

Kokum Feni (8.75/10)

Location:

Gomes Pereira Road, Rua São Tomé, Panaji, Goa 403001

Hospedaria Venite, Fontainhas, Panjim

Our last stop on our food crawl was Hospedaria Venite in Fontainhas. We did not order much from this restaurant, apart from a Goan Pork Sausage plate, which was rather disappointing, well spiced but very chewy, and the endless vegetables and fries on the side didn’t entertain us either.

This was the only place I got to try Urrack, which I loved - a product of the first phase of distillation of the Feni - making process. The rarity of Urrack comes from its much smaller shelf life - it is really only available in the early months of summer - while Feni is stored and available year-long. Predictably, Urrack is quite similar to Feni in taste, but it contains less alcohol content, having only 10 to 15% alcohol content, compared to Feni’s 40 to 45%.

That was it for our Fontainhas food tour. There were many more bakeries, cafes and bars that I wanted to visit, but had to cut short due to time, and our longer visit at Confeitaria. Though, no regrets of our time spent, everything that we had was excellent and time spent with friends is always worthwhile.

Recommendations:

Urrack (9/10). I do not recommend their Goan Pork Sauages (3/10)

Location:

Rua 31 de Janeiro, Near Head Post Office, Altinho, Panaji, Goa 403001

Bobchik, Morjim

We planned on catching the sunset on our last day at North Goa’s Morjim Beach, making the long, scenic hour-and-a-half ride from Panjim to reach there, but our plan was unfortunately cut short by my friends driving their scooters head-first into a huge puddle of mud and getting stuck there for an hour (luckily the scooter I was riding on did not encounter any such issues, allowing me to enjoy the sunset on the only evening it was not cloudy). Eventually, we found a mechanic who agreed to fix our scooters, and opposite his shop, lay Bobchik, run by wife-and-husband Chiki and Bobby, a spot that looked like your run-of-the-mill instagrammable cafe that seem to pop up in every metropolitan and touristy area in India these days. Uniquely, they had a ping pong table for guests to enjoy their stay, and their food, while expensive, was quite good, so perhaps the Instagram analogy is a bit unkind.

Their Grilled Tofu Croissant was an amalgamation of grilled tofu, soft mushrooms, fresh slices of tomatoes and iced lettuce, garlic aioli, cheese and a generous spread of honey mustard dressing in a beautifully baked, soft-as-a-feather croissant. It was a very interesting mixture of a variety of ingredients that I hadn’t had before, which I enjoyed a lot.

Their Exotic Veg Pizza was decent, a large, thin crust pizza with a variety of vegetables sprinkled on top

We had their seafood platter, which had crunchy, fried Calamari Rings served with a cheese sauce on top, Butter Garlic Prawns with an umami wonder that was out of this world, a Rava Fry Kingfish which was a bunch of tender kingfish fillets, and a Konkani Masala Mackerel that was incredibly smokey and well-grilled, similar to the Red Snapper we had at Kokni the other day.

After Bobchik, we went to some other place in Porvorim, and snacked on some decent Veg Manchurian and Hakka Noodles and some mediocre Chicken Momos and Chicken Lollipop, which I did not bother to document in my gallery due its obscurity.

Recommendations:

Grilled Tofu Croissant (7.75/10), Seafood Platter (8/10)

Location:

700/A, Mardiwada, Morjim, Goa 403512

Day Four // Benjoe Rail Restaurant, Madgaon

Technically, our 72 hours of eating in Goa ended at Bobchik the day before, but I had an excellent Mackerel combo with Rice at Benjoe Rail Restaurant in Madgaon which I feel is worth mentioning. This was hands down the most cost-friendly place we visited on our Goa trip, unsurprisingly, and can be a good place to stop for breakfast or a snack if you’re coming to Goa from Madgaon, a town in South Goa which serves as Goa’s primary railway station. The Mackerel Thaali came with a fish fillet, some rice, rajma, a coconut-based curry, salad and some mango pickle. A fitting seafood meal to end our Goa trip. Vegetarians can have the Masala Dosa and Idlis that they serve, which are very affordable at around 40/- and 30/- respectively as of June 2024.

Recommendations:

Mackerel with Rice (6.25/10), Dosa (5/10), Idli (6.25/10)

Location:

Railway Station, Sanscar Society, Madgaon, Goa 403601

Closing Thoughts

To me, a good holiday is one that leaves you deeply unsatisfied. It piques your curiosity into the wondrous depths of a previously unknown culture, leaving you desperate to stay for a few more days, to hold on to the place for as long as you can, one that engulfs you with a desire to stay back and immerse yourself in the foreign culture for as long as you can. That is exactly how I felt on my trip to Goa. I explored a lot of places, tried a lot of food, was introduced to a whole new cuisine, and yet, the only thing that I was thinking of on my train journey back to Ahmedabad, was how I left out on so much, particularly in the culinary department. I know that it is not humanly possible to explore all aspects of a place on just a short visit - and part of travel is the acceptance of the fact that there will always be something that you won’t be able to experience - but I really hope that I am able to visit Goa again. Preferably, for a longer stay, of a few weeks, a month, even, to eat at the places that remain left behind, to visit the shores of beaches that remain untouched, and to drink some more feni with my pals at Joseph’s in Fontainhas. I hope you enjoyed Goa through my lens.

The popularity of McLeodganj as a backpacker’s destination, owing to it being the home of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan Government-in-Exile, means that there is no dearth of Tibetan food to be found. Yet, Kailash Kunga Cafe stands out amidst its peers. In my opinion, a lot of the Tibetan food served at cafes (even in Delhi), comes across as quite different to traditional, homemade Tibetan fare, using more spices and herbs and is a bit more heavier on the stomach, often due to fusion food such as gravy momos being featured on the menu, compared to traditional Tibetan fare that is quite light and bland. Understandably, a lot of tourist spots, as well as spots that primarily cater to demographics other than Tibetans, tend to lean into the former aspects. There is nothing wrong about dishes evolving with time, or with fusion, or in adapting a certain cuisine to different flavour palettes. It has led to glorious culinary innovations, most notably being the entirety of Indo-Chinese cuisine, but at times, you just crave more homemade, traditionally-cooked food.

Kailash Kunga Cafe is a rather homely restaurant operated alone by a lady. Quite the contrast from the rest of the cafes on the road it is situated on, which often serve everything from American breakfasts, Indo-Chinese food, Tibetan, Italian and Indian food beneath one roof, Kailash Kunga does not have an expansive menu. It only has around half a dozen things on its menu for lunch - mostly an assortment of Steamed Momos and Noodle Soups, available in both Mutton and Vegetarian vaarieties. I only tried their Mutton Thukpa on my visit there, and was pleasantly surprised by how different it was to other spots. The Thukpa is a soup of mutton, noodles and vegetables. On a chilly, windy day in the mountains up top in Himachal Pradesh, a warm, filling bowl of Mutton Thukpa is like feeling a long, tight hug from your mother when you’re visiting home after being away for months. The soup is hardly spiced at all, the bland broth allowing the flavours of the meat and bok choy to establish a subtle presence in the soup, and in true traditional Tibetan fashion, it is served with a scorchingly spicy, unadulterated red chilli sauce for you to mix in the soup, alongside a salad of pickled beetroot which was too pungent and foreign to my palette. Lunch at Kailash Kunga Cafe is truly a homely Tibetan experience like no other, and I encourage you to visit it on your trip to Himachal.

Recommendations:

Mutton Thukpa (9/10)

Location:

Jogiwara Road, McLeodganj

Note that the restaurant is not featured on Google Maps. Ask around for directions

The quaint little town of McLeodganj in Himachal Pradesh is a very popular tourist destination, owing to it being nestled between the clouds of the Kangra Valley, with stunningly green and white views all around, as well as being located just a stone’s throw away from a major city in Dharamshala, making it rather convenient to reach the village. It is here that the 14th Dalai Lama established the Tibetan Government-in-Exile, after having to flee their homeland due to the Chinese occupation in 1959. McLeodganj today hosts a significant Tibetan population, many of whom have economically integrated into the region by setting up local cafes and shops, as the allure of the town as a Mini - Tibet, with the presence of many major Buddhist monasteries, only adds to the tourist presence here. Let alone Indians, McLeodganj at any time of the year is flooded by white tourists and backpackers, most of them in their 20s and 30s, thanks to the presence of cheap hostels which allow you to stay in a bunk bed for as low as 700 Indian Rupees.

A direct result of the above two factors here is that lot of the food here tends to be a mishmash of Tibetan and Continental cuisine, with it not being uncommon to see Pancakes or an American breakfast to displayed besides the Tibetan Thukpa or Gyurma, especially in more spacious, ambient cafes that are popular amongst both tourists and locals. I visited two of these cafes on my short one-day visit to McLeodganj, Norling Restaurant and Four Seasons Cafe.

Norling Restaurant

Norling Restaurant is a tiny little place run by a family, located at Dolma Chowk. Their menu is quite expansive, and while I didn’t have the chance to have as much as I wanted to, I sampled their Chilli Garlic Mutton Momos alongside a Tsampa Shake. Their Chilli Garlic Mutton Momos were quite good. I’ve had similar gravy momos in Delhi before (Yo Tibet in Humayunpur is your place to go if you’re seeking them out), but these were equally excellent. Large mutton momos with a juicy filling of tender meat and a thin covering of maida, covered in a thick, flavourful gravy of tomatoes, chilli, garlic and red bell peppers. Excellent, and very filling, best had in a group of friends. I planned on covering a few spots after this, but couldn’t, because I was bogged down after just one plate.

Tsampa flour is a staple food of Tibet. It is grounded, roasted barley flour, and is consumed as a cereal, with tea, as a porridge, as dough balls, and on its own, as it does not have to be cooked due to the barley flour being roasted. It is basically the same as Sattu that is prepared in Bihar and its surrounding regions, although consumed differently. Quite fascinating that a popular ingredient in Bihar, shares a cross-Himalayan connection with the people of Tibet, who, owing to political and cultural repression, have brought it to a tiny little town in Himachal Pradesh, where it is commonly sold today. Norling uses Tsampa flour to make Tsampa shakes - a simple mix of Tsampa, milk, and sugar, very, very thick, and extremely filling, lightly sweet with the rough taste of the roasted barley being quite prominent on your tongue.

Recommendations:

Chilli Garlic Momo (8.25 / 10), Tsampa Shake (8.75 / 10)

Location:

Dolma Chowk, Jogiwara Rd, McLeod Ganj, Dharamshala, Himachal Pradesh 176219

Four Seasons Cafe

Four Seasons Cafe on Jogiwara Road is a very pretty cafe, with its wooden interiors and stacks of books. It has quite the diverse menu, boasting of serving both Italian and Tibetan cuisine, and more, with everything from Pizza to Mango Lassi to Chicken Florentine to Thukpa to Pancakes to Mutton Momos to Pasta Puttanesca to Coffees to Chicken Manchurian to Thenthuk to Banoffee Pies to Paneer Pakoras to Aloo Paranthas available here, I think its safe to say that Four Season is the final boss of people who are indecisive at ordering out at restaurants.

In the khichdi of a menu, every cuisine known to mankind being featured here, one dish stood out to me - the Soutsemen, crunchy, pan-fried noodles topped with a meat or vegetable gravy - something that I have not been able to find in any other Tibetan menu. All efforts to search for the elusive Soutsemen on any search engine have been rendered useless, leading me to believe that its either something that is sparsely documented, or, an invention that has not travelled outside the four walls of this little cafe. In any case, the dish is a work of art. The noodles stick together in a circular, disk-like structure. The upper layer of the noodles are extremely cripsy and crunchy, and go well with the runny, thick, meaty gravy, which is flavoured with a variety of vegetables, mostly tomatoes, garlic and assorted greens, alongside shredded meat. The bottom of the noodle disc is regular noodles, soft, not crunchy or crispy, leading to a more conventional noodle-eating experience once you’ve fought your way through the pan-fried joy of the layer on top.

I also had their Mutton Shaphaley, a deep-fried pastry containing meat and/or cabbage, a dish that looks eerily similar to the vegetarian Ghughra (known in North India as Gujiya) in the Indian plains. While I’ve had Shaphaley a few times before in Delhi, this was easily the best I’ve ever had. A bite into this tender mutton pastry leads to the meat juices immediately burst open in your mouth, awkwardly dripping off your lips as you try to wipe them off, while simultaneously trying not to lose your mind as the euphoria of the pastry overwhelms the brain’s dopamine receptors. Excellent. After washing it all down with a refreshing cup of lemon tea, I headed out the door, to go watch a game of World Cup Cricket.

Recommendations:

Shaphaley (9.75/10), Soutsemen (8/10), Lemon Tea (9/10)

Location:

Jogiwara Rd, McLeod Ganj, Dharamshala, Himachal Pradesh 176219

All of that changed when I came to Delhi. The roadside cholafali stalls and sandwich shops back home were nowhere to be found, instead replaced by momo vendors, kachori carts, soya chaap shops and chhole-bhatuure sellers. I quickly embraced this new environment, nay, even preferred it at times to my old one, notably due to the lack of cheap meat snacks (or any meat snacks for that matter) sold in gentrified areas of Amdavad. But the lack of street-side sandwich shops was quite baffling for a city like Delhi, and I started to miss the convenience of having a homely slice just a few moments away from wherever I was at any given moment. Perhaps, Delhi’s sandwiches were to be found within the glittering walls of quirky cafes, which I find myself to be quite allergic to, or perhaps, I wasn’t looking hard enough.

Turns out that the best sandwiches in Delhi are not ones that are immediately visible to the naked eye. You have to meander narrow alleyways, stake out residential areas, ride the metro to far-off areas, and then, perhaps, you might spot a place selling sandwiches. Within the confines of the residential colony of Jangpura Extension, buried behind what seems at first glance as a rather unremarkable convenience store selling generic brands of chips and energy drinks amongst other products, lies a room with a rather long table decorated with a cash register, an assortment of cheap wrapped cupcakes, muffins and cakes, bottles of ketchup and paper napkins, and around half a dozen barstools for customers to sit. Delhi’s best sandwiches are to be found in this rather unconventional space, known to the world at large as Novelty Dairy & Stores, and to old-time customers as Hawker’s House. Sitting inside this cramped space takes you back in time a few decades, to the early years of Independent India, when the shop must have been established by Shanti Sarup, a partition migrant who settled in Jangpura. Its barstool-laden interior may evoke images of interiors of an American diner from a similar time period across the seven seas, but the vibe of the rest of the restaurant is quite simple and dull in its interior, quite the contrast to flashy, neon lights that populated American restaurants at the time, bringing you back to familiar shores.

Novelty’s cold coffee and baked goods are rather mediocre, and quite frankly, entirely skippable. The coffee is plain, not very strong, and uninspiring, and their muffins and pastries are rather average in taste too. Their sandwiches, on the other hand, are to die for. It is a rather curious coincidence that the sandwiches served in this little hobbit hole are similar to the ones available back home in Amdavad, served with thin slices of white bread, untoasted, a generous slather of butter and in-house mayonnaise on the slices, served with the freshest mint chutney you could ever imagine. The only two digressions from the Gujarati formula are the notable inclusion of meat slices, and the lack of chaat masala sprinkled on top, the former not unexpected due to Amdavad’s puritanical obsession with vegetarian food, and the latter quite a surprise given the love Delhi has for its chaat masala.

Novelty’s formula for what goes into a sandwich is quite simple, and they make it work by ensuring the few ingredients that they use are absolutely top-notch in terms of quality. I am a huge fan of their Chicken Salami, Tuna and Ham sandwiches, which feature three cut slices of meat sandwiched between three pieces of white bread, alongside the other condiments listed above. They also serve burgers, patties and other items at their shop, but to be honest, I hecking love sandwiches! And the ones at Novelty remind me of home. Naturally it goes that I’ve never tried their other fare, but you’re welcome to come searching for this shop behind a convenience store and try them for yourself.

Recommendations:

Chicken Salami Sandwiches (9/10), Tuna Sandwiches (9/10), Ham Sandwiches (9/10), Muffins and other pastries (6.5/10), Cold Coffee (4/10).

The latter two items are skippable.

Location:

Shop No. 43, Birbal Road, Opp. Post Office, Jungpura Extension, Jangpura, New Delhi, Delhi 110014

Unlike the Nizams of Calcutta or the various Nawabs of Awadh, who were quite active in extending patronage to food, their royal kitchens rustling up delicacies such as various types of Kebabs, Biryani, Nihari and other dishes, the Gaekwads of Baroda did not have much interest in food. As a result, they left behind a rather bleak culinary legacy that is regrettable for a city that can only be described as a gem in the cultural milieu of Gujarat. Yet, traces of this Maratha rule still remain, and can be occassionally scooped up in a plate of Sev Usal.

The most popular place to have Sev Usal in Baroda is at Mahakali near the Kirti Stambh. Founded by Sopanbhai Sane, this establishment carries the quintessential rags-to-riches Gujarati start-up story with it. Sane worked at a lodge in the city, but carried dissatisfaction regarding his job. His passion for food led him to opening a Sev Usal stall in 1988, which eventually blossomed into a fully fledged restaurant. Sev Usal is a curry cooked in a base of white peas and oil, served with thick sev made of gram flour and spring onion as garnish. Sev Usal is basically the Barodan cousin of a Misal Pav, the key difference being that Misal Pav is created with a base of legumes instead of white peas.

Mahakali’s Sev Usal is stupendously good. A bite into the Sev Usal is like an explosion of molten lava in your mouth, the spice from the dish making you question your belief of Gujarati food being overly sweet and sugary. The thick sev help add texture to the otherwise oily dish, as well as to dial down the spice if required. On the other hand, if the dish is too mild for you, use the two chutneys at your disposal, one of green chili and the other of garlic, to crank up the capsacin in the curry. The gravy is served with a packet of miniature buns, which are used to scoop the gravy up, and are quite delicious themselves, freshly baked and incredibly fluffy. Cherry on top, they offer unlimited refills of the Usal gravy, allowing one to stuff their plate, and their mouth, to their heart’s content. In true Gujarati fashion, they also sell Butter Sev Usal and Cheese Sev Usals as well, which seem to do decently well, but, I’d urge you to stick to the original Sev Usal, that has made Mahakali the institution it is today.

Recommendations:

Sev Usal (9.75 / 10)

Location:

Nehru Bhawan, GF-14/15 Prathmesh Plaza, Palace Rd, Kirti Stambh, Behind, Vadodara, Gujarat 390001

The Narendra Modi Stadium, otherwise known as the Motera Stadium (henceforth referred to as the Motera in this review), located in Ahmedabad, is the largest stadium in the world, with a seating capacity of 132,000 spectators. It is managed by the Gujarat Cricket Association, and was renovated at a cost of 800 Crore INR. I have watched 5 games at the Motera (Day 1 of the India vs England D/N Test in 2021, Day 2 of the India vs England Day Test in 2021, Qualifier 2 of the IPL in 2023, Final of the IPL in 2023, Final of the World Cup in 2023), and will be summarizing my experience of the stadium in a few key points.

DISCLAIMER -

Rules and regulations (such as whether you’re allowed bags in VIP Stands, ticket box offices being open on match-days etc) are not always uniformly enforced, and readers are requested to do their own research before attending games. Additionally, facilities such as food and drink change depending on who is responsible for organising a particular game – WPL / IPL franchises tend to get involved in their respective domestic home games while a larger burden falls on the BCCI / DDCA during International games. I shall keep updating this piece as and when I get to know of any updates / changes made.

Seating

All seats at the Motera have an excellent view of the pitch. Seats that are higher up will have a steep viewing angle of the pitch, as well as being further away from the action that can break your immersion. It is recommended to book seats in the front (irrespective of whether they’re ground floor seating or first floor). As with any stadium in India, ground floor seating is fenced off from the ground for security purposes, which will hinder your view a bit if you have seats that are in the first few rows.

I recommend the Block N, Bay 2 as it gives you a straight view of the pitch (Preferred due to lateral deviations off the pitch such as spin or seam movement being visible, such aspects of the game can’t be appreciated from side-on views) at affordable rates. Book tickets as close to the pitch as possible, as seats further back have a steep viewing angle (Making it hard to judge dip or bounce. Also not ideal for appreciating stroke play). For lower - level seating, Block D, Bay 5 - 1 and Block E, Bay 2 - 6 are recommended. One can also opt for the South Premium Stands on the opposite side of the ground, but they relatively much costlier to the above two options, and do not have any significant upgrade in viewing angles over Block D and Block E. However, the team dugouts during T20 games are located right ahead of the South Premium Stands, which can be something to consider while purchasing tickets.

Do note that all pre-match ceremonies, mid-innings shows, post-match presentations, etc., are always done facing the South Stand, as the Presidential Gallery and Presidential Suites where VIPs such as Jay Shah sit, are just above it.

Atmosphere

Ahmedabad lacks a historic stadium-going culture similar to the likes of Chennai or Mumbai. The high seating capacity means that even if 30,000 people (roughly the size of the Wankhede) show up, it would feel empty and quiet due to the sparse open-air seating. Undoubtedly, the decision to create a 132K seater in Ahmedabad is regrettable – very rarely will games fill up to that capacity, and when they don’t, it makes for both a bad spectator experience and an underwhelming television product.

Ahmedabad does not lack a cricket culture though, and over the months, attendance at the Motera has got better with time. Don’t expect day games (including Test matches) and neutral ODIs to get sold out, but IPL and India games at night almost always have a crowd nearing the ground’s maximum capacity. Home team support for Gujarat Titans is also quite significant. It does get decently loud when there’s a packed house, such as the IPL Final between CSK and GT in 2023. Chants encouraging players are a rare occurence, though, and the most you can expect is cheers for wickets and boundaries, and the crowd screaming “ooooooOOOOO” if the ball misses the bat’s edge and goes straight to the keeper.

Social media discourse over the Motera being as “quiet as a library” during the WC Final is slightly inaccurate – not only was the crowd loud but they were synchronized in their chants, whether it be the slow claps as Bumrah takes his run-up, chants for Rohit Sharma and Mohammad Shami, or the stadium being deafeningly loud after Shami took his only wicket that night. A lot of this could be attributed to the large number of people who travelled from other cities, primarily Mumbai, for the WC Final. It only started to get really quiet after the 35-over mark, when the game looked done and dusted, which is nothing unique to the city. The Wankhede was silent when Williamson and Mitchell were bashing India’s bowlers just 4 days ago in the Semi-Final, and the Chinnaswamy tends to go hush when the Royal Challengers are losing a Cricket game (which is a frequent occurrence). Moreover, it tends to be a pain to enter and exit the Motera, elaborated upon in a later section of this piece, so it is understandable that spectators tried to leave as early as possible.

Parallel to the above point, the usual crowd at the Motera tends to be quite bigoted in its worldview, unfortunately a general feature of Gujarati society. Last year, they heckled a Muslim teammate, Mohammad Shami, by chanting Hindu religious slogans to him while he was at the boundary, to arouse a reaction from him. The Pakistani team that played against India at this ground in the World Cup also faced those chants, alongside their national anthem being booed, abusive chants being hurled at players, and so on. Most people in the crowd for India vs Pakistan weren’t there for the cricket. They were there to have fun and “show Pakistanis their place”. This is not an exaggeration, this is verbatim from one of the spectators who was engaging in said behaviour on that day.

Infrastructure

Washrooms are quite spacious and clean.

Free drinking water facilities are provided. I have never found that water has run out at the Motera, though, I heard that it got over quite soon for India vs Pakistan.

There are several accessibility concerns with regards to the stadium. Upper floor seating is not recommended for the elderly or those with difficulties climbing. One can only access upper floor seating through a huge flight of stairs, and to my knowledge, it is not ramp-friendly, nor are there any elevators.

Vehicle entry is prohibited on the road that leads up to the stadium, so you have to walk for around 1-2 kms from the main road (where the BRTS stand is located) to reach the stadium. The distance from the metro is slightly shorter. It is still a cumbersome walk which may be inconvenient for those with mobility problems.

The Motera, a stadium with a capacity of 132,000 spectators, effectively has only two gates for entry (the third being reserved for premium seating). I cannot put into words how comically low this number is. The Chinnaswamy, a stadium with a capacity of roughly 33,000 seats, has 8 gates. The Feroz Shah Kotla with 35,000 seats has 15 gates. Just two gates for the Motera is an example of how poorly planned the stadium experience is. One of these gates has a narrow entrance that is surrounded by slums and shops, and the other opens through a residential society. Both gates act as a bottleneck during entry and exit. Getting in and out of the stadium is not a smooth experience, and is quite prone to stampedes. Do keep your children and loved ones close to you during the entry / exit process. It is quite regrettable that despite the hundreds of crores dumped into this stadium, something as fundamental as convenient entry / exit seems to have remained an afterthought.

Food in the Stadium

Food at the Motera is quite expensive, and frankly speaking, very unhygenic at a packed house as well. I would recommend not having anything from the stadium as much as possible.

Connectivity

Reaching the Motera can be a hassle despite it being well-connected by BRTS and Metro. Do go as early as possible if you anticipate crowds to be high, as the low frequency and capacity of the Ahmedabad Metro means that coaches get pretty densely packed. Return journeys in the metro are equally packed, as most people disperse at the same time. Parking is usually available for those with their own vehicles, though, it is a bit far from the stadium, and you will have to walk a few more kilometres to reach it.

One of the more infuriating aspects of taking the metro on game-days is that they don’t allow you to use your metro card, for whatever reason. Paper tickets, which cost several times more than what a regular ticket would, are sold separately at metro station ticket counters, and they encourage you to buy a return ticket as well, as stations are likely to be packed during the return journey. This serves no practical purpose apart from increasing revenue, and it is honestly very rage-inducing to see my home city not using its already-limited transit infrastructure for public good, but for revenue generation. Moreover, the frequency of trains, which is usually 10 minutes, is not increased on match-days either, leading to stations getting crowded and crowds getting difficult to stand in, especially for women, children or the elderly.

This is a stark contrast to other cities in India. In Chennai, stadium authorities work with bureaucrats to make sure that metro travel is free for spectators holding a match ticket with them. In other cities, the frequency of the metro or MRT is often increased, so that huge crowds can be dispersed with quickly. It is not just that officials in Ahmedabad are incompetent, lazy, or indifferent to the spectator experience. But by actively increasing the ticket prices on match-days, knowing that you don’t have many alternatives to commute to and from the stadium, they try to fleece you, which is the most infuriating part of watching a game in Ahmedabad.

Primers before watching a cricket game in India

Do not take any valuable belongings inside with you. Headphones, chargers, powerbanks, books, pens, pencils, umbrellas, sunscreen, flagpoles and even coins from your wallet will be thrown out by security, with nothing more than dicey, makeshift locker systems in place before the gates to the stadium. This is one of the worst parts of watching a game in India. Generally, the premium stands are lax on these regulations, but if you want to watch a game from regular seating, you’ll have to endure some pain.

Physical tickets are mandatory. If you’re booking your tickets early enough online, they usually have an option for home delivery – select that, it’s worth paying the price for. If that option is not available, collect your tickets at the earliest. Most booking sites will ask you to collect your tickets before the match-day, claiming that the box office shall remain closed on the match-day to reduce crowds. This is just fear mongering. Most box offices across the country remain open on game-days. HOWEVER, it is not recommended to wait until the last minute to collect tickets, as you risk running into long queues and rowdy crowds.

IPL Qualifier 2 / Finals Ticket Collection Experience -

I had a terrible experience during ticket collection for the IPL Qualifier 2 in 2023 that I described on twitter a year ago, which I shall narrate again below. The average ticket collection experience isn’t this bad, but what happened to me is still a possibility, so I felt the need to describe it.

One day before Q2, the incompetence of the BCCI, IPL, Paytm and Gujarat Police lead to multiple stampedes at the Narendra Modi Stadium. I almost fainted amongst a raging crowd and had to leave without collecting my tickets.

Firstly, the venue. GT set up many centres across the city where one could print their tickets at their convenience. My dad went to a centre 2 minutes away from my sister's school, and had to stand in a queue of just 2 people before printing the ticket. For the playoffs, which are games with high attendance, exceeding over 2L, mind you, they opened only one centre, which was the Modi Stadium itself. How did they expect to manage such a crowd in one or two days? I don't think they did. Reflected in the way they handled it.

This is the entrance to the Modi Stadium. Picture it in your head, except, scorching hot 45°C Amdavad heat instead of a nighttime landscape. There is a big gate on the left and a small gate on the right, through which one can enter the stadium. There were queues for ticket counters inside the stadium, where one has to wait. Where's the problem? They did not have separate entrances for physical ticket sales and online ticket collections. So, a limited number of people were allowed inside, by opening either gate periodically, to prevent more people turning up for the physical ticket sales than expected.

There are two obvious problems with this arrangement. Firstly, there were numerous people outside who already had tickets, who were forced to wait outside without reason. Secondly, it is impossible to manage a crowd that is outside the stadium, because all police personnel are inside, leading to a lot of chaos and a situation that I'd describe as a stampede.

This was made worse by the way the crowd was managed. On the left was the big gate, and on the right was the small gate. Between 16:20 and 17:10 (approximate times), they only opened the small gate. One guard from inside signalled that the big gate wouldn't open, leading to a rush of people, who were at the big gate, running and pushing their way through to the small gate. 10 minutes later, they start opening the big gate. Finally, physical ticket sales closed, as they ran out of stock. They opened the gates one last time so everyone can enter inside. Of course, this wasn't communicated to people. And only the small gate was opened. So people rushed inside the stadium gates, thinking that there is a limited window to enter the stadium. Numerous punches to the gut, falling over on other people, people's hands getting stuck in the door, women feeling extremely uncomfortable in this scenario, bottles and caps and shoes getting lost was a common occurrence, with no way to exit.

We then reach the ticket window. I finally took a breath of fresh air. There was a huge queue, and I lamented my fate, but accepted it. At least the queue will run in an orderly fashion, with police and security personnel there to coordinate with us. Right? WRONG! The queues ran smoothly for around halfway through. Then, people started pushing us from behind. By the time I was around a metre from the counter, half an hour had passed. I thought to myself, five minutes more? Right? WRONG! I was squashed between the crowds. I found myself tossed around from left to right to up to down amongst the crowd. There was no order at all. The pushes only grew stronger. Earlier, they were a bearable obstruction. Now, they were the default for advancing forward. The exhaustion, suffocation and tiredness got to me. I realized that I couldn't make the last leg of the journey. Even if I made it through, I'd eventually get stuck with no way to exit. The crowd was so large and mismanaged that people exited the same way they came. The same, crowded passage, which was more of a rumble than a queue. So, I left.

But wait? Wasn't there police inside? Didn't they do anything? Nope. There was one policeman standing near the queue. We begged him for three quarters of an hour to do something and solve the queue. He did absolutely nothing. Others were chilling outside and on the stairs. I was horribly disappointed by the arrangements, or lack of, thereof, made by the Gujarat Police and PayTM Insider. You knew that tens of thousands of people were going to come that day. PayTM could've arranged their own security. They didn't. And for this, for almost fainting amongst a crowd of thousands, I was supposed to pay PayTM Insider a convenience fee? What convenience? I was lost for breath and couldn’t breathe normally for over 2 hours after I exited the stampede.

Of course, that raises the question, why not exit earlier, and come back for tickets the next day. The reason for that is, this pathetic excuse of a ticketing service had emailed everyone saying that "ticket collection will not happen on the match day. Collect your tickets at the earliest." They mailed this to me four times that day as a reminder, which was why I was hesitant to leave. Then, when I was halfway through the line, with no way to exit, getting pushed around from all four corners, an announcement is made on the loud speaker: "Ticket collection will happen tomorrow at the 4D Mall near the Stadium". Excellent clarity of thought.

Usually tickets are home delivered. The incompetence of the board meant that this couldn't happen, because ticket sales started very late. Which is what caused all these issues. But the greater question is, why do I need physical tickets at all? They just scan the barcode in a physical ticket. Scan the QR code on my phone? Horribly backward system.

Nearby Food Places

The lane opposite Vishwakarma College has a bunch of restaurants, such as pizza, Gujarati and Punjabi eateries, Subway and other fast food brands, Dosa places, and so on. A lot of eateries in Ahmedabad stay open till 12-2 am, such as late night chai addas which also serve snacks and fast food, so you have other options as well, scattered across the city.

A two-line review of the Motera

A horribly planned white elephant that very rarely fills up, with underwhelming infrastructure given the costs involved, run by a comical management. Watching the game from the stadium itself is quite enjoyable though, and there are good vantage points all around.

Certain criticisms in this review may seem a bit too harsh, but you expect better from a stadium that is proudly showcased as the crown jewel of the BCCI.

One of these mysteries is the tiny village of Ranakpur. A short detour of around 45 kilometres off NH27 leads you to this settlement, concealed behind the dense Aravallis and located on the banks of the Maghai river. But there is much mystique to this otherwise inconspicuous village. As legend has, many centuries ago, Dharana Shah was a minister in the court of Rana Kumbha of Mewar. A dream came to him at night, images of a celestial flying palace with pillars, and upon consulting his Guru Somasundarji, he was advised to build such a temple in the shape of the vimana, which, with the help of the king, he did. The Jain Temple of Ranakpur is one of the grandest structures you’ll encounter in this region. They are intricately crafted with white marble, their interiors featuring wall carvings and pillars that depict various deities, ancient maps, natural wonders and much more.

The bigger surprise about this place was the number of eateries advertising freshly baked pizza pies on roadside billboards. This is extremely peculiar for a village that is so tiny in number that it does not even appear in the Census of India. When I’m usually in a small town in India, I tend to avoid locally-produced western food consumables such as pasta or burgers, as the end product almost always ends up being a poorly Indianised, low-quality, hogwash of flavours. Even metropolitan cities get this horribly wrong all the time, prime example being the “Gupta Burger” stalls scattered across Dilli. But I was too intrigued by the availability of the dish in this town to care about that rule of mine, and shoved it aside for a night.

We went to Olive Pizzeria, for no particular reason other than it was located on our drive from the Ranakpur Dam to our stay. They had a good assortment of pizzas, but we went for the simple thin-crust margherita to test waters. The thin pizza base was decked out with a marinara sauce, some schezwan chutney for the “spice” and fresh basil leaves, followed by a healthy sprinkle of mozzarella cheese. The pizza then goes in a domed clay oven, which has got warm by now thanks to the heat produced by ignited wood. The oven is sealed and the pizza continues to bake. When its finally done, the chef takes the pizza out onto the serving tray and chops it up for us. The pizza exceeded my expectations, in fact, I dare it was much better than what most pizzerias in modern Indian metropolises pass off as Italian or Italian - American cuisine these days. The ingredients used were fresh, the dough wasn’t chewy or heavy, it was perfectly light, which helped the core ingredients, and their quality, shine.

But why does Ranakpur, a town with a population so small, serve lip-smacking pizzas that put Dominoes and Pizza Hut to shame? The answer lies in its temple. The temple at Ranakpur is so magnificent that it draws in tourists from all over the world, from Italy, France, Germany, Europe and Israel. This quaint town at the banks of the Maghai is a perfect little stop on the journey to Udaipur, and as a result, it houses multiple resorts that foreign tourists end up staying in. This is what led to the demand of Western food growing, as homesick travellers long for a taste closer to home. While Italians aren’t the most represented nationality amongst the tourists, my theory is that Italian food is both something that is easy to generate with Indian ingredients, and able to be authentically served in a vegetarian variant, the latter being necessary due to the droves of Gujarati tourists (mostly vegetarian, and very often stingy about the restaurant they dine in not serving meat as well, as it would clash with their purity beliefs), that flock Udaipur and Southern Rajasthan every tourist season, and perhaps with locals also being more comfortable preparing vegetarian dishes than meat, though I must confess that I am not the most educated on the dietary practices of rural Mewar. It also helps that Italian food is popular both in India and worldwide, and is something that restaurants in the region have some sort of familiarity with, as opposed to a Coq au Vin from France or a Pelmeni from Russia. While there were many highlights of my recent trip to Mewar, the most unique experience has to be having authentic wood-fire pizza baked in a clay oven in a village of around a thousand people. I implore you to make the detour to Ranakpur in the region, and urge you to not shy away from having the dish.

Recommendations:

Pizza (8.75/10)

Location:

Ranakpur Hill Resort, Ranakpur Road, Sadri PO, Pali District, Ranakpur, Rajasthan 306702

Note that "Olive Pizzeria” is not mentioned on Google Maps. To the best of my memory, it is located inside the resort linked above. Other pizza places in Ranakpur do feature on Google Maps, and I don’t think there’s much of a difference in quality to be expected.

Thanks to Vaibhav for reviewing this piece.

Once I actually got the chance to try the mystical slop of Shahjahanabad, my wonder turned quickly into confusion. The more chaats I tried, the more I became perplexed as to why the food of Chandni Chowk is hyped to oblivion. To be frank with you, the quality of chaat served at most places in Chandni Chowk (in fact, Delhi as a whole) is mediocre. The quality of ingredients used often feels sub-par, muted and dull in taste, and lacking of the vibrancy that freshly-prepared chutneys or aloo tikkis often have. Moreover, the technique of preparing Chaat in Delhi feels far simpler to other places. The fun of a good chaat is the way it seamlessly blends starkly contrasting flavours and textures together into a scrumdiddlyumptious plate of goodiness. In comparison, the number of ingredients used in Delhi Chaat is significantly less to somewhere like Lucknow or Ahmedabad, the result being that most dishes end up being dominated by the taste of one chutney or masala. Just to be clear, my assertion is not that more complicated or nuanced techniques are inherently better than simpler techniques. Foods prepared using both methods can turn out to be absolutely scrumptious, but that only holds true when the quality of ingredients meets a certain threshold, which Delhi Chaat does not clear.

All that being said, there is one Chaat place in Chandni Chowk that I am quite fond of, and make sure to visit whenever I am in the area. This is Natraj Dahi Bhalla Corner, a shop that has been operating since 1940, selling only one thing for the majority of its existence - Dahi Bhallas. They have more recently started to sell Aloo Tikki Chaat as well, but that has never seemed to be available whenever I’ve visited, so I’ve not reviewed it here.

There is not much that goes into preparing a plate of Dahi Bhalla at Natraj. The perennial huge crowd outside this decades-old shop, it being one of the more popular landmarks of Chandni Chowk, necessitates a swift technique to serve its patrons. A small sprinkle of masala over the broken bhallas (lentil fritters), followed by a generous pouring of luscious, soft, icy dahi (curd), topped off by some sweet imli chutney and no more than two pomegranate seeds. The star of the show is the Dahi - it has a wonderful thick consistency and is not overly sweet in taste, blending harmoniously well with the imli chutney, the former giving the dish its texture and the latter its flavour. This is one of the very few dishes in Old Delhi whose simplicity I’ve enjoyed. The quality of ingredients is sufficiently good, the flavours blend well with each other and they are added in moderation. It is nothing too revolutionary, and certainly won’t make me hail Chandni Chowk as the Holy Grail of Indian Chaat (that crown belongs to Lucknow as of now), but is worth checking out if you ever find yourself roaming the streets of Old Delhi.

Recommendations:

Dahi Bhallas (7 / 10)

Location:

1396, Main Road, beside Central Bank, Kucha Mahajani, Chandni Chowk, New Delhi, Delhi 110006