Yellow Chilli...

I would deem myself a failure if this text is not flailed by emissaries paid to praise the pointless. By pledging faith to their unctuous reviews what one risks most is TASTE. #uncookedwords

Firstly, mulling an pricey eatery at pompless Chandni Chowk was naïve and mindless. 'Yellow Chilli’, however, set off with fanfare in an area noted for offering goodfood for less. On Meredith Road it stood like Vuitton in a ghetto.

What exactly made a hungry soul resent 'Yellow Chilli’ on a promising weekday afternoon? The décor had rigged up a perfect foil to the failings that lay in store. A sloppy bowlful palmed off as Gosht Kalimirch ka Shorba as much numbed with raging black pepper as upset with measly mutton dices hiding at the bottom in dishonour. It was Für Elise played on steel-strings with utter shoddiness. Grittily textured Akhroti-Murgh Seekh - seasoned mix of walnut-chicken rolled into kebabs, would taste the same if I were nose-less. Like one surviving in the arid ravines of Chambal I lived through its roughness with sangfroid. Tariwala Murgh proved a dish one cooks for enemies – fiery, undramatic and made with a chicken stringy and tough. Like that I stopped an awful meal that boasted all but life.

Let’s not spill ink any more. I hope the day would never come when ‘Maligning Indian Food’ becomes their tagline. Until then I’ll stay as unstinting in offering battles on taste as I’m today.