When The Great Kebab Factory (TGKF) opened up at the Radisson, New Delhi, more than a decade ago, it was an instant best-seller. The concept was so simple that you wondered why it hadn’t been executed before — a buffet of kebabs, refined from their pop origins, served up in comfort.
Since then, the concept has gone places — to Dubai, Ludhiana, Chennai and so forth with equal felicity. In Delhi, India’s new gourmet capital, where “concepts” are tried and abandoned with equal disdain, the original TGKF shut its doors about two years ago as part of its overdue overhaul.
We expected change. Something fresh to emerge. But this week, when it finally reopened, it was... lo and behold, once again TGKF —more kebabs, a better wine list, a completely different and none too complimentary look — but really, much the same.
What surprised me though was the number of enthusiastic diners, many of them regulars from the old days, who had turned up for the spread that, though not prohibitively priced, didn’t amount to loose change either.
So what does this really show us? Middle-class India’s famous reluctance to sample the untried? Or something more basic that we tend to forget while cheering the ever-widening gourmet choices now available to us?
Those who vouch for the former have a point: Meet any one who is not an aspirational foodie (or wine-drinker) trying to impress you with his latest “experience” (or by bringing his own wine glass to a tasting!) but honest enough to call a spade just that.
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Ask them to tell you where they’d go for a family meal —when not entertaining, without the benefit of an expense account — and you are more than likely to hear some old names mentioned.
These are restaurants that have seemingly always been around: Kwality or Machan or Trishna or Koshy’s or even the Zodiac Grill and people go to these a) because that’s where they went with their parents and their favourite dishes are still on the menus, b) the service staff knows them by name, c) they are singularly unimaginative. The last is unbelievable.
The other argument is that a value-for-money restaurant will always do well as against places that try to cash in on a fad. But value-for-money is not easy to define. Does it only imply “cheaper” places like the neighbourhood restaurant or café or pizza outlets and food courts?
Most food courts at malls in India and many of the small restaurants have, in fact, terrible food quality (not to mention hygiene). This is very different from casual dining places in say, Hong Kong and Singapore or in Europe and America. In India, at casual dine-ins, even if prices are cheaper, eating out is bound to pinch in these hard times if the quality is inferior. You’d much rather eat at home (which, given our rising obesity levels, may not be such a bad thing!)
On the other hand, a very expensive restaurant could have a great notional value for money. Bukhara may not exactly be the right example — though it has survived many fashions unchanged. But internationally, you have only to look at places such as the El Bulli, Ferran Adria’s three Michelin Star restaurant in Spain, to agree.
A small restaurant that kickstarted molecular gastronomy, El Bulli is operational only part of the year (till September). When it opens its bookings for the next year in October, they get snapped up immediately — though a meal for one costs $300 here.
And while, you may call gastronomy a fad too — altering the chemistry of food, giving you oysters and passion fruit jelly, for instance — the fact is that chefs work hard in their labs to ensure a wow meal. So if you are stretching your dollars, it may as well be here.
The silver lining I hope to see in the downturn is that quality will triumph over gimmicks. And there are several at the moment where the latter rules. It will not matter whether they have put gold on their roofs or in their plates. What will matter is good food at fair prices.