After recent stints in Kerala, Calcutta and Bombay, I came back with one question on my mind: why is it so easy to get bad food in Delhi? Before the capital’s denizens rise up and remind me of the riches to be found in Bukhara, Sakura, Wasabi or Swagath, the plenitude of specialists in the lanes of old Delhi, Nizamuddin or even Paharganj, let me clarify: Delhi’s restaurants offer more variety than most cities.
If you want Russian blinis, Indonesian rendang or classic Japanese sashimi, it got here first, thanks to the growing curiosity among foodies and the rising expat population. Gourmet duck, turkey or goose for Christmas? Try the organic farms in Mehrauli. Bratwurst-and-beer? The German Embassy has a Christmas Bazaar every year where you can stuff yourself silly. Brazilian, Korean, Mexican, Spanish food? There’s likely to be a festival on somewhere in town.
But I’ve had more consistently disappointing meals in Delhi than anywhere else. Everyone has a story to share about under-marinated, tough tandoori chicken, fussy but completely inedible overcooked pasta, “risottos” that taste like indifferent pulaos, sambals that no self-respecting Malaysian would allow into their kitchens. Here’s why it happens:
1) Dumbing it down: I didn’t quite get this until I took a party of foreign guests and a bunch of Indians to the Imperial coffee shop on two consecutive days. On both days, someone ordered nalli gosht: the first day, it was painfully bland, something like an Irish stew with a faint tinge of paprika. The second day, it was awesome.
The chef told me that most five-star hotels will make a bland, completely inauthentic version for foreigners who can’t handle the spices, the Authorised Version for us. Some, however, don’t, assuming that Indians will “know” this — and will cunningly order continental dishes instead.
2) The trend trap: Delhi’s citizens are notorious for prizing the unusual above the good. Many of us still haven’t recovered from the Year of Thai, a few years ago, when every wedding featured gloppy curries with overcooked vegetables in a ton of coconut cream and packaged spices.
So if Indonesian or Pan Asian is the flavour of the month, many restaurants will rush to offer suitable dishes — even if their chefs don't know the first thing about this particular cuisine.
That’s why Blanco in Khan Market serves a perfectly acceptable coconut prawn curry masquerading as sambal: the authentic sambal is considered too fiery and too fishy for the Indian palate. Or why Baci and Diva had to explain to customers patiently that no, the pasta wasn’t undercooked: it was just al dente.
3) Hubris: Some restaurants earn their reputation for reasons that have nothing to do with the food — or have been resting on their laurels for far too long. That’s why, though old-timers rave about Gulati’s hearty north Indian food at Pandara Road, you’ll actually get a much better meal at Punjabi By Nature or even the little neighbourhood shack.
I love visiting the Lodi Garden restaurant for its atmosphere —it’s like eating out in the park, and it has awesome jazz evenings — but the food has been stolidly mediocre for years. Olive, again, is where you go to do a little air-kissing: except for its tasting menu and perhaps its special Sunday buffets, the food has been, well, inexplicable ever since it opened its doors. But then again, you’re not going to Olive for the food, are you?
I understand this. But when I think of consistently great food, two restaurants come to mind. Bukhara and Swagath could, by now, be coasting on reputation, or could have hit rough patches (Swagath did at one stage). It would take both restaurants a long time to lose customers.
But if you ever visit their kitchens, you’ll see the head chef painstakingly checking on the spice mixtures, or the manager inspecting the quality of the day’s seafood. Ask them why, and they’ll tell you that just pulling the crowds in isn’t what they’re about. They’re in the business of serving excellent food, all the time. I wish more Delhi restaurants were like that.
