After spending the morning cleaning the house, it was way past our usual lunchtime when we finally decided that enough was enough. There was no way we were going to cook now. A late lunch somewhere outside was definitely the better option.
Usually, we would pick a place close to home, but being a Sunday, I decided it was time to head right into the heart of the city and visit one of our favourite Chinese restaurants—Chung Wah on Central Avenue.
I knew that at this late hour on a Sunday, parking wouldn't be an issue. There should be a spot right outside Chung Wah, and sure enough, that was the plan.
After a quick bath, we were ready to go. But not before I plugged my phone into the car and got Google Maps running on the screen.
Now, I know I can drive to Chung Wah with my eyes closed. I've been going there long enough. But after finally getting the navigation working on the car screen, I simply had to show my wife. Six years of wanting to do this and I was going to enjoy my little moment of accomplishment!
My wife promptly muted the navigation voice.
"No, no, I want the voice on," I protested.
She switched it back on and soon we had that familiar voice telling us exactly where we were going—even though we both knew perfectly well where we were going.
Off we went.
At Esplanade, we got stuck behind a bus at the signal, which actually turned out to be a blessing. It gave me a good long look at the recently renovated and freshly painted Esplanade Mansion. The building looked absolutely majestic in its new coat of white. I even managed to get a photograph of it from the car window before the signal finally turned green.
A right, a left, a few pedestrians to dodge and soon we were approaching the Chandi Chowk Metro exit. I pulled up and parked the car right there.
Chung Wah was almost deserted when we walked in.
Perfect!
We settled into one of those familiar cubicles with the curtain. As soon as we sat down, my wife and I did what we always seem to do in these little cubicles—we cleared the table. Glasses, water jug, cutlery, napkin holder and the three-pot sauce holder were all neatly pushed to one side against the wall.
Just then, the curtain parted.
A waiter's head appeared, followed by the rest of him as he reached for the menu from its holder near the entrance. He placed it on the table and then proceeded to put all the things we'd just moved back exactly where they had been.
"We don't need it," we told him. "We know what we want."
I asked for a Kingfisher.
"No Kingfisher. Tuborg."
Fine. Tuborg it was.
"Coke?"
"No Coke. Thums Up."
Fine again. Thums Up it was.
And then came the important part—a Mixed Non-Veg Noodle Soup.
"It has pork."
"Yes. That's okay. We eat everything!"
The rest of the order could wait.
The beer and Thums Up arrived almost immediately. The bottle was opened with a flourish, poured into my mug and I got down to the serious business of enjoying a chilled beer on a late Sunday afternoon.
My wife sipped her Thums Up.
Then came the Chanachur.
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is one of the reasons I love old-school Calcutta restaurants.
That little bowl of chanachur—hot grams and all—arriving with your drinks is pure old-world Calcutta charm. And the problem with chanachur is that your fingers simply don't know when to stop. You keep reaching into the bowl, one handful after another, and before you know it, it's gone.
While we enjoyed our drinks and chanachur, we couldn't help overhearing the gentleman in the next cubicle.
He was an elderly gentleman, extremely animated, and apparently had a lot to say. His conversation with the lady sitting with him was hilarious enough, but every now and then his telephone would ring and the entire restaurant would get another instalment of his very loud and entertaining telephone conversations.
Frankly, we were getting our lunch and a free show.
Then the soup arrived.
And so did the Chilli Chicken.
It was around this point that I realised something wasn't quite right.
I picked up the beer bottle and looked at it properly.
Tuborg Strong.
Ah.
That explained the slightly sweetish taste.
And the buzz.
I'm a light-beer drinker, so this Strong business was already making its presence felt.
But by then it was too late.
I was committed.
The waiter appeared and replenished the chanachur! Perfect.
The soup and Chilli Chicken were excellent, and as the afternoon progressed, I could feel my own conversations becoming a little more animated. Perhaps the Tuborg was doing its job.
Perhaps the gentleman in the next cubicle was contagious.
Either way, I was seriously tempted to walk over and introduce myself to the man who had been providing us with such excellent entertainment.
But I resisted.
Eventually, we finished our soup and Chilli Chicken and looked at each other.
We were full.
There was absolutely no way we were going home and cooking dinner.
So, naturally, we ordered dinner.
A Special Mixed Fried Rice, Hakka Chowmein, Chilli Pork Dry and Chicken Liver Dry—all packed to take home.
Problem solved.
As we paid the bill, the couple from the next cubicle were also leaving. I couldn't resist one last attempt to see the man whose voice had been such an integral part of our afternoon.
I popped my head out of the cubicle just in time to catch a glimpse of him and the lady as they walked out of Chung Wah.
Mission accomplished!
Our packed food took a little while to arrive, but eventually it did, and we walked out of Chung Wah completely satisfied.
It had been worth coming all the way across town for a late lunch.
We got into the car, took the turn at the signal and headed straight into Westside, right across the road from Chung Wah. Their newest Kolkata store is housed in the erstwhile Statesman House and, as I understand it, is possibly their biggest store in the city.
A little shopping later, my wife took over the driving duties and we headed home.
A Sunday that had started with cleaning the house had somehow turned into a drive across Kolkata, a nostalgic Chinese lunch, chanachur, an unexpectedly strong beer, a mystery gentleman providing live entertainment, takeaway dinner and some shopping.
Not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon at all.
