Royally Royal...

It is always ‘Curiosity’ that makes one chase the new – and it is sheer ‘Love’ that inspires clinging to the old - including a restaurant.

My annual pilgrimages to Kolkata would have three errands in common - visits to three of my dearest eateries, namely Sabir’s [for Rezala], Royal’s [for Pasinda] and Peter Cat [for Chelo Kebab]. They are like the cougars - attractive, beautifully old, experienced and raring to spoil.

Today I am to write about Royal’s.

Perhaps the quickest way to get to know Kolkata is to take a stroll along the fabled Chitpur road. Taking that wondrous walk is always an experience in itself offering sights and sounds that haven’t changed over the past few centuries. Toward the end of its stretch comes the Royal’s. Apparently, this particular joint never yielded to the charms of urban growth yet successfully remained in vogue on the culinary map of Kolkata. The secret of this glorious survival decidedly lay in the taste of the delicious dishes it had in store for its patrons.

I parked the car near the restaurant [did I break any traffic rule? Well, in love for food and war everything is fair] and taking the narrow flight of stairs reached 1st floor. Now an impulsive right turn would land one in the swanky Air-conditioned hall and that’s what I deliberately avoided. I turned left and naively entered the hall usually meant for the commoners.

Noticing me struggling with the menu a waiter, with an uncharacteristic smile, voluntarily drew closer and benignly asked - 'Sir, will you try the dish that I want you to? Trust me, you won't regret.' I liked the unusual candour in his voice and nodded in affirmation. To me, what followed was truly one of its kind- definitely one of the finest experiences a lover of good-food could long for. I found on my table two lachcha parathas fried in ghee – impeccably served with the feted and succulent Pasinda made with shredded mutton. The overwhelming aroma that preceded the food felt like the ‘dun dun dun dunnn’ of Fifth Symphony in c Minor - a fitting overture. I happily succumbed to the enchantment. The defining quality of that paratha was its softness which stayed till the last bit that I tore with just 3 fingers. Taste of this sort is routinely accompanied by a lingering aftertaste that manifests only through a noisy belch – and that too gushed forth in time. Hold on!

Again the apostolic waiter appeared from nowhere offering help in ordering for dessert – with a footnote hinting that there too he had something special to offer. I obliged. And no sooner had I ordered for the unknown than the celebrated Shahi-tukra appeared on my table. The distinction of Royal’s Shahi-tukra, always served warm, lay in the layer of 'kheer' liberally laden with scraped almond – with a royal hint of Zafran. It was a perfect rectangle. The sweetmeat almost condescendingly let my heartless spoon dig in and carry a part of it to my mouth – and I imploded. It was indeed to die for!

I shouldn’t talk about Royal’s Biriyani today as for savouring that particular dish I would always prefer Aminia [the original outlet located next to Elite] to everywhere else – that’s a choice I preserve and people are entitled to disagree to their own peril!