Bewildering Badshah...

Nothing pleases like an unmitigated surprise. So that evening at Badshah, upon finding ‘Creamy Chicken Tandoori’ - discernibly bearing outward kinship with Levantine delicacies, pose temptingly at the end of a relatively random Roll-trail, I smelt delectation in the offing. Likely to strike as an Albino to the tyro, this fairer avatar of Tandoori swimmingly belied all that I had apprehended until biting into it. Juicy chicken chunks, lovingly marinated with a perceptible accent of garlic, yielded to my incessant love-bites giving out a round savour worth zealous pursuit. Astute use of tamer herbs as seasoning secured a mature and savoury mouthfeel. And, I smiled at finding just another reason to frequent Badshah. Anyone to up the ante?

Cafe Ekante...

Charmingly sited by a sprawling waterbody, Café Ekante did only disappoint when rated solely on its fare. A disfavour grew steadily over a curated spread I was invited to a week ago. 

The appetizers didn't appetize! And, the mains were relatively as ordinary. 

Doi Moshlar Makha Makhi – juiceless kebabs made with curd, cheese and Jeera hit with an irksome tartness. The mix miscarried I presume. Kalnar Bharwan Aalu - potatoes filled with dry-fruits lacked taste and drama. Dhaka’s famous Gilafi Seekh Kababs shined texturally but lost on flavour. Rashid Miyanar Boti Kabab – the saving grace, delighted with well-pounded mutton temperately seasoned with spices and garlic. Gulnar Jalpari – marinated jumbo prawns slow-cooked in ‘dum’, fared well in both taste and savour. The Bhetki in Achari Fish Tikka was well past its cookable prime, ill-chosen. Chefs, be alert! 

Overcooked Kosha Mangsho, tasting rudely bitter, repulsed. Fulkopir Roast was poised and likable. Chingri Malai Curry – with excessively thin gravy and prawns of varying freshness, smacked of culinary insincerity. Kasundi diye Kasha Murgi’s fall from grace was steep and short, with scarcely marinated chickens dunked in a confused gravy. Bashonti Polao’s rice proved lesser than what it deserved to shine. I liked the baked Roshogolla. Bhapa-sandesh tasted too dull to be loved. 

Besides wishing the best, I see Café Ekante, with apt counsel, soon coming off as a coveted restaurant of a resurging Kolkata.

a marquee mousse...

In this age of frugality even the faintest glimmer of excess excites.

Monte Carlo, Chai Break's marquee chocolate mousse, startled as an epitome of excess on an unusually timid Sunday. A scoop of it almost brought alive the fantasy of rolling in a profusion of chocolate. Rich meringue finely folded into molten choco-base lent textural firmness while a generous topping of dry-fruits added drama and fun. 

Those edible paraphernalia went to my son. I prolonged my relish of the rest as long as I could - making no secret of my affinity for the immoderate fullness Monte Carlo offered in a bowl!

Thakali recall!

Thakali recalled! And, so was my expeditious revisit.

I had earlier the Henry Jekyll of Prawn Balls – sociable, succulent and scrumptious. Soon after I ate the Edward Hyde of it – frigid, shrivelled and lacking all that I ever loved in food. Doma Wang, I missed you terribly in the fare!

In Chicken Thukpa, I found Himalayan gentility whipped up in a bowl with apt mastery and warmth – leaving the egg-noodle maturely undercooked in a simmering broth of chicken, ginger, garlic, spring onions, green chilies and what not. Delicious Pork Kothays, served upturned in a cane-steamer, recalled American potstickers - with crisped-up bottoms and flavorous meat as filling. Mama mia! Shapta of lean pork - shredded and fried with pepper, onion, chilli and soy, offered a savour reckless and unrefined yet poised on all notes. Flat noodles with egg and pork turned out well but just well.

I love Thakali! 

But, if I take Doma out of my idea of it, will it stay as delicious?