The restaurant tag
I only subject you to this post as Adi, in a fit of ignorance, tagged me to write about 5 restaurants I like. Firstly, let me say that gastronomically, I ceased growing at the age of 5. I still prefer Bournvita to coffee ( the new 5-star Bournvita is revolting). And while George Orwell may expound on the joys of bitter,black tea, I prefer my chai to have large helpings of both milk and sugar. Sugar, in fact, makes up a large part of my diet. Idlis with sugar? Bring it on, I say. If I haven't fallen far enough in your estimation, let me add that I'm also an annoying holier-than-thou reformed vegetarian.
Having conclusively denied any claims to being the next Curnonsky, I shall now hold forth on the restaurant I despise the most. Despite Delhi offering an incomprehensible array of cuisines, ranging from the Antarctic to the sub-Saharan (seemingly), my parents favourite eat-out in Delhi remains that bastion of Tamil pride: Saravana Bhavan. Usually getting into an SB in Delhi would mean an interminable wait. Once in, this is a typical conversation between me and my parents:
Me (after perfunctory perusal of menu): I think I'll have (Item A)
Mom directs a reproachful glare at me.
Me (befuddled): What?
Mom: I can make far better- (Item A) at home than is available here.
Me (rolling my eyes): Ok fine, I'll have- (Item B) then.
Mom , who has never uttered any rebuke regarding my lengthy spell of unemployment, repeats reproachful glare. And goes on to wonder how, despite her excellent parenting, I've turned out like this. I then start frantically looking for an item of the menu which would appease my mom. The cycle usually continues till both my patience and appetite have vanished.
Having conclusively denied any claims to being the next Curnonsky, I shall now hold forth on the restaurant I despise the most. Despite Delhi offering an incomprehensible array of cuisines, ranging from the Antarctic to the sub-Saharan (seemingly), my parents favourite eat-out in Delhi remains that bastion of Tamil pride: Saravana Bhavan. Usually getting into an SB in Delhi would mean an interminable wait. Once in, this is a typical conversation between me and my parents:
Me (after perfunctory perusal of menu): I think I'll have (Item A)
Mom directs a reproachful glare at me.
Me (befuddled): What?
Mom: I can make far better
Me (rolling my eyes): Ok fine, I'll have
Mom , who has never uttered any rebuke regarding my lengthy spell of unemployment, repeats reproachful glare. And goes on to wonder how, despite her excellent parenting, I've turned out like this. I then start frantically looking for an item of the menu which would appease my mom. The cycle usually continues till both my patience and appetite have vanished.
I really think SB is overrated! Been there several times in CA, man.... its soooo damn crowded, and I never saw what the fuss was all about!
Posted by Antara | 10:23 am