If alternating bad taste with good is how the new-borns plan to start off, they play it utterly on the wrong foot. #uncookedwords
Nine-month-old ‘The Kitchen’ was what I picked to treat my food-loving son in on Children’s day. My welcome to the copper-laden restaurant was cold and foppish. Throughout my meal a run of helpless Stans forced into Ollies’ clothes as ill-dressed waiters struggled to gloss over an utter lack of mastery of cooking. This fairly sums up how I felt both over and after my stay at The Kitchen. Primitive maces filled more with dull batter than duller chicken were passed off as ‘Korean-style Drums of Heaven’. If that is what they really eat up there, Zeus, we’re better off! Lemon Coriander soup was a few hairs short of being called an exotic Lemon juice laced with coriander, and artfully thickened just to be tagged discretely as soup on menu. Counting tines on forks sustained me until next course. Warm ‘Makhanwala’ Naans with delicious Dal Makhani were what lent zest to my flagging meal as a redeeming pair. The Naans stayed buttery soft surprisingly long and the Makhani pleased with amazing creaminess and flavour – setting off a felicity that soon yielded to a dish with a numbing note. So, came close on heels some Laziz Tikka Masala - as potful of raging spices most fiercely cooked, where chicken cubes were as fairly visible as Hydrogen in a glass of water.
Too many things happening together, like an unflattering flat tyre just when I’m indifferently hungry and whizzing past The Kitchen, can only bring about my next stop there. And, I’d wish to elude such occasion with poise. By the way, when exactly is an Eatery called a Kitchen?
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