Kareem's at Calcutta...

Trading on a name works poorly in the food-world. Lifting a name works worse. Heart fluttered at the prospect of visiting Kareem’s at Kolkata. But a keener scrutiny revealed the titular prank of having the defining ‘I’ supplanted with two harmless ‘E’s. Yet, undaunted and raring, I marched on and here is what I found.

Paya Shorba was an untimely order that Kareem’s agreed to serve. A classic, aromatically pungent and elegantly heavy stew of gosht trotters, with a forthright but lovable dominance of ginger, set the scene for an unfolding meal. Soaked bones with rich marrow covered with flavorous meat, gave out a somewhat cleansing yet unobtrusive aftertaste.

Kareem's amused with one of the finest Murgh Peswari Tikkas of my life – sizeable and succulent chicken cubes marinated with chilli paste, yogurt and Chef’s special spices, skewered and grilled to perfection – definitive, decadent and delicious. Textured gravy let the tongue be playful with solid flavours before teeth could bite on making the meaty cubes burst into an aromatic riot. Smiling, content and spurred, I sent for more.

Shahi Gosht Barra Chap, ordered on a trusted recommendation, came cloaked in delicately sweetened cream topped with chopped cashew – bestowing royalty upon the beautifully bizarre. Celebration of savoury tenderness mounted on jutting ribs – that’s how I would recount my time with the grilled beauty – leaving with a mouthfeel that proudly lingered. My expectation soared.

Haleem gatecrashed. In a bowl, I sadly saw subtlety yielding to indelicacy. Cloying predominance of ill-ground pulses, nipping the course in 2 quick spoonfuls, left me little to blabber. I saw the line dip.

A muddled motley of inferior rice, misplaced spices and culinary violence – that’s how I would summarise Kareem’s perception of special Gosht Dum Biriyani. The dish hung somewhere between a degenerate Lucknow and an upright Bengal eventually falling into the ravines of Chambal, leading nowhere. Besides, splinters of overboiled bones nicked and made me bleed – first in pain and then in disgust. I abandoned the tasteless clone.

Foodlovers rebound faster. So, did I.

Malai Phirni, with finely ground rice simmered and rounded off with thickened milk for a smoother texture, healed and pleased as the closing course.

It’s time for a rude awakening! Kareem’s embodied the vanity of a swanky Porsche with flat tyres, a pompous Mont Blanc without ink. Spectacular but shallow. So, I wish them sincerity, culinary wisdom and power to shine.

In my city, not the fittest but the tastiest survives!

Calcutta, I insist, deserves better.