From Safed Sagar to South Indian Flavours — And Finally, Ube!

My 15th August celebration had actually started the night before and went well into the wee hours of Independence Day — thanks to Netflix and the final episode of the six-part series Operation Safed Sagar.

The series tells the story of one of the lesser-known chapters of the Kargil War of 1999 — the operations of the Indian Air Force. While most of us know about the Indian Army's Operation Vijay, and remember the iconic images of our soldiers reclaiming the heights around Tiger Hill, the Indian Air Force had its own operation — Operation Safed Sagar.

The series follows the escapades, missions and personal stories of the men of one particular IAF squadron, the legendary Golden Arrows. And, as expected, once we started the final episode, there was absolutely no question of going to bed at a sensible hour. Independence Day could wait. The Golden Arrows couldn't!

So, after getting up rather late on Independence Day — patriotism apparently requires its beauty sleep — we decided to head out for lunch.

I was in the mood for something light, but more importantly, something different from our usual culinary excursions. We often tend to reduce South Indian cuisine to the familiar quartet of Idli, Dosa, Vada and Sambar, accompanied by a coconut chutney that seems to have achieved diplomatic immunity on every South Indian menu.

But South India is considerably larger than one state, and its food is far more diverse.

So we decided to explore a different side of it.

We headed to Uncle Tomz, a place whose food we had first sampled many moons ago when they had done a pop-up at The Tollygunge Club. Back then, they were operating as a cloud kitchen, so seeing them now with their own restaurant was rather satisfying. Clearly, the food had done enough convincing to graduate from the cloud to terra firma!

Getting there involved the usual Kolkata adventure. The lanes were narrow and parking was, predictably, a matter of "park wherever you can and pray." We eventually left the car around the corner and walked in.

The place is inviting right from the outside. A bamboo-ceilinged passage leads you in, and the restaurant itself is simple, classic and practical without trying too hard. The back wall has a lovely mural which adds a nice splash of character.

By now, we were hungry.

And when you're hungry, contemplation is overrated.

We got straight to business.

First came Pork Vindaloo with Appams — a beautiful combination of spicy, tangy pork with those soft, lacy appams that are practically designed to mop up every last bit of gravy.

Then came Chicken Roast with Idiyappams, another wonderful combination. The idiyappams were delicate and light, while the roast packed in plenty of flavour.

We had originally set our hearts on the Netholi Fry, but unfortunately they had run out. So we settled for the Ayala Fry — Mackerel instead.

Not exactly what we had planned, but the fish was a very respectable substitute.

Halfway through the meal, the appams mysteriously started disappearing.

So we ordered some more.

At this stage, our definition of "light lunch" had already left the building.

Eventually, we finished our meal and decided to skip dessert.

And that's when the restaurant decided to ambush us.

The young lad serving us suddenly appeared with a bowl of Filter Coffee Mousse, compliments of the owner.

Now, this was unexpected.

And more importantly, it was bloody good!

The mousse was light, creamy and packed with that unmistakable South Indian filter coffee flavour. Just the sort of dessert that makes you wonder why you had the wisdom to say "No dessert."

So much for wisdom.

After lunch, we headed home, crossing the Café Coffee Day in our neighbourhood on the way.

My wife suddenly announced that she wanted to come back in the evening because CCD had just introduced some new flavours.

I knew exactly where this was going.

We went home for a much-needed siesta.

But, as expected, my wife did not forget.

By evening, I was reminded that we had a coffee date.

So off we went.

Café Coffee Day had a limited-edition Iced Ube, which she ordered, along with a Tropical Iceberg Coffee.

I, of course, had to participate in the mandatory tasting process.

Which means I ended up drinking the Ube anyway.

The Iced Ube is a purple-yam-flavoured, creamy iced beverage with a sweet, almost vanilla-like profile. It was interesting, different and certainly not something I would have associated with my old-school image of Café Coffee Day.

It was also, by my standards, a tad bit pricey.

But then again, I seem to have completely lost touch with what coffee costs these days.

The Tropical Iceberg, meanwhile, was much more familiar territory — an icy, slushy cold coffee with cocoa and coffee flavours. It has that nostalgic CCD character which has been around long enough to remind many of us of an era when going to Café Coffee Day was practically a social event.

And so ended my Independence Day.

It began with the Indian Air Force flying missions over Kargil, moved on to Pork Vindaloo, Appams, Idiyappams and Mackerel, took an unexpected detour through Filter Coffee Mousse, and finally landed on purple yam and cold coffee.

From Safed Sagar to South Indian food to Ube.

Quite a flight path for one Independence Day!

And somewhere between the Golden Arrows and the Filter Coffee Mousse, I realised that perhaps this is what celebrating independence is really about — having the freedom to eat whatever the hell you want!

Jai Hind!

AKIRA: A Tiny Japanese Universe in Kolkata

Since we were already out and dinner was calling, we decided to keep things light and find somewhere nearby. A quick search by my wife produced a promising result—a new Japanese place just 9 minutes away, according to Google.

Nine minutes?

That sounded dangerously convenient.

And so off we went to AKIRA, a cute little Japanese cuisine restaurant that is, by almost every definition of the word, tiny. But what it lacks in size, it makes up for in character. The place is done up in Japanese Pop Culture, with Anime and Manga influences everywhere you look.

We arrived and, as expected, had to wait a little before we could get in.

Which was perfectly fine by me.

Because parked outside were two rather handsome motorcycles—a Honda CB350 and a Honda H'ness CB350.

Now, I have a weakness for motorcycles, and apparently, so did the universe that evening.

I was admiring the two bikes when the owner of the CB350 appeared. One thing led to another and within seconds we were engaged in that very particular form of conversation that only bikers understand.

You know the one.

Engine. Torque. Riding. Bikes. Experiences. Comparisons.

Meanwhile, my wife stood nearby watching the proceedings.

I suspect, from the look on her face, that she was witnessing two perfectly normal human beings communicating in an alien language.

Neither of us noticed.

We were too busy being bikers.

Eventually, our table became available, so I bid my newfound biker friend a safe ride and we headed inside.

And that's when we discovered just how tiny AKIRA really was.

The place seemed to begin and end almost immediately after the counter. Four tables, plus a long wall-mounted table running along one side, and that's pretty much the entire restaurant.

Compact? Definitely.

But it had been done rather cutely.

We got ourselves a corner table, which had the added advantage of giving us a direct view into the kitchen. I quite like restaurants where you can see what's happening behind the scenes.

Then came the menu.

And I loved it.

It was short and sweet.

No encyclopaedia. No twenty-seven variations of the same dish. No sitting there wondering whether you should order something you can't pronounce or something you can't identify.

We were done ordering within minutes.

What We Ordered

DRINKS:
🍊 Oren
🌸 Sakura

YAKITORI:
🐖 Pork — Two Skewers

RAMEN:
🍜 Akira Spicy Miso Ramen
🍜 Akira Shoyu Ramen

While we waited, I began exploring the walls with my eyes.

There were Japanese posters and images everywhere, adding to the whole Anime-Manga atmosphere. But it was the cats that caught our attention.

There were cats on the posters.

Then we spotted another.

And another.

Before long, dinner had acquired an entirely new side quest:

Find the Cats.

We started looking around the restaurant trying to spot as many of these feline appearances as possible.

Yes, we are adults.

No, we don't always behave like them.

Our drinks arrived, followed fairly quickly by the food. The service was genuinely impressive, with everything arriving in quick succession.

And then we ate.

The Pork Yakitori was particularly good. The pork was cooked to perfection—tender, juicy and absolutely delicious.

And when food is that good, there is a very simple rule:

It goes faster into your tummy.

Which is precisely what happened.

The ramen disappeared.

The yakitori disappeared.

We looked at the table.

Nothing.

Gone.

Finished.

Done.

The people at the table next to us had also finished their meal and then ordered dessert.

We noticed.

Of course we noticed.

Their dessert sounded interesting enough that we immediately decided that perhaps we weren't quite as finished as we had originally thought.

So we ordered one too.

Dessert: Mango Sticky Rice Sushi

Now this was fun.

Mango Sticky Rice Sushi is exactly the sort of thing that makes you curious enough to order it and then pleasantly surprised when it actually works.

It was an interesting interpretation of the classic dessert, combining the familiar flavours in a sushi-style presentation. And it was nicely balanced too.

A rather clever little ending to the meal.

By now, we were comfortably stuffed and ready to leave, but before heading out we got chatting with the young lad who had been looking after us throughout the evening.

And that's when we discovered that he wasn't simply the person attending to us.

He was actually one of the two partners who had opened AKIRA.

The other partner?

The Chef.

Suddenly, the whole place made even more sense.

This wasn't some huge, polished restaurant operation. It was a tiny little space put together by two people who clearly wanted to create something they enjoyed themselves.

And perhaps that's what made AKIRA so charming.

It's small.

It's quirky.

It's unapologetically Japanese Pop Culture.

It has a short menu, good food, friendly service, interesting desserts, cats hiding on posters—and apparently attracts bikers who can be found outside speaking in mysterious tongues.

What's not to like?

We left AKIRA with full stomachs, happy faces and one more little place added to our ever-growing list of Kolkata discoveries.

We'll definitely be back.

And we'll certainly be telling our friends about this tiny little island of Japanese mouthy delights in Kolkata.

Although next time, I may have to spend a little less time talking about motorcycles.

Then again...

maybe not.

From Sudder Street to New Market: A Lunch at Raj’s Spanish Café

 

Since it was a weekday, we decided it was the perfect day to finally try out a place we had been wanting to visit forever. Both the name and the location had intrigued us. Raj’s Spanish Café—the name itself might make one a little suspicious about the authenticity of the Continental cuisine on the menu, but its location on Sudder Street made us curious.

Sudder Street is, after all, Kolkata’s famous foreign backpacker and tourist hub. So if a Spanish café had been sitting here for years, catering largely to an international crowd, surely there had to be a reason for its longevity!

Getting to the centre of the city is not exactly one of my favourite things, particularly when parking is involved. Somehow, though, we managed to park in front of Jamuna Banquets. From there, it was a short walk through a narrow lane that brought us onto Sudder Street, with Raj’s Spanish Café just around the corner.

Our first impression was… interesting.

The café had an outdoor seating area, and while we were a little taken aback, we were certainly not deterred. The murals on the walls immediately caught my attention. Then I took a peek inside—and suddenly everything made sense.

The place was packed!

There was a wonderful humdrum of conversations in a dozen unintelligible dialects. Foreigners everywhere! The restaurant was bustling and absolutely packed to the rafters. Clearly, Raj’s Spanish Café had found its audience.

One of the staff members came to the door and explained that we would have to sit outside because there were no tables available inside.

There were two tables outside—one completely empty and another half occupied, but with enough seating for two. We opted for the latter. At least it had a fan!

So, we settled down and started checking out the menu. Orders had to be placed through an app, which I have to admit was quite techy for a place that otherwise looked like it had accumulated decades of character!

And what a menu it was. There was some seriously tempting food to choose from.

While we were deliberating, more and more people kept arriving. Then, just when we had resigned ourselves to sitting outside, the server came over and told us that a table had become available inside.

Would we like to move?

Most definitely. Yes, please!

We stepped inside into this wonderfully electric atmosphere—tables packed on either side, conversations flowing, food arriving and people from all over the world enjoying themselves.

Our table was right at the very end of the restaurant, which meant we had to walk through the entire length of the café to get there. And that walk was fascinating.

Every inch of the walls seemed to have a story.

Marker-pen signatures, names, messages and random scribblings covered practically every available surface. Patrons had written on the walls, the windows and, unbelievably, even the ceiling. It felt less like graffiti and more like a living guestbook created over the years by travellers from around the world.

Once seated, we couldn't help looking at what everyone around us was eating. Judging by the plates passing our table, we knew we were in for a good lunch.

I ordered an Oreo Shake, while my wife opted for a bottle of Coca-Cola.

For the main meal, we went with a Lasagna de Pollo, Spicy Chicken Pizza, and Espinacas Salteadas—fried spinach with garlic and fried seafood.

The food arrived in what seemed like record time.

And then we dug in.

Boy, was it worth the effort it had taken to get here!

The food was delicious, the atmosphere was infectious, and there was something wonderfully unpretentious about the whole place. It wasn't trying to be fancy. It was simply doing what it had clearly been doing for years—serving good food to a constantly changing crowd of locals and travellers.

And then came another little episode that perfectly summed up Raj’s Spanish Café.

While we were eating, a young Spanish girl sitting nearby suddenly got hold of a marker. She wanted to add her own message to the ceiling. Unfortunately, with the café completely packed, there was no easy way to reach it.

Her solution?

She climbed onto the window sill right next to us and proceeded to leave her mark!

Only in a place like this.

Somewhere around halfway through our meal, one of the older members of the staff found an empty spot next to us and sat down. We got chatting.

And what followed was one of those wonderfully unexpected conversations that Kolkata is so good at producing.

We talked about Kolkata, food, the city's culture, the changing times, the past and all sorts of things in between.

Basically, adda.

It was delightful.

By the time we had finished our meal, we had become so comfortable that when we ordered dessert to be packed, he actually took us into the kitchen because I had mentioned that I wanted to see the pizza oven.

That little gesture made the experience even more memorable.

Raj’s Spanish Café was an absolute delight.

But our afternoon wasn't over yet.

Having come all the way into the heart of the city, my wife was adamant that going back home without visiting New Market would simply be wrong.

And, well… she did have a point.

We were only a street away.

So off we went.

New Market is one of those places that remains indispensable no matter how many shiny new malls Kolkata acquires. If you want something unusual, something specific, something you simply cannot find in a mall, chances are you'll find it somewhere inside this glorious maze.

And, of course, being in New Market meant there was one more thing we couldn't possibly leave without doing.

Nahoum’s.

A little shopping, a little wandering around, and naturally, some goodies from Nahoum’s had to come home with us.

And then, on our way back, we decided to make one more stop—Westside on Free School Street.

And wouldn't you know it…

There was a SALE on!

Now, let me ask you…

After everything we had already eaten and shopped for that afternoon, do you really think we simply walked past?

Did we shop some more???

Well…

Of course we did!

The Great Ilish Feast at The Tollygunge Club

 

We had been waiting for this lunch for a long time. One of our annual gastronomic traditions is the Hilsa Festival at The Tollygunge Club in Kolkata—and, as always, it promised to be a celebration of our favourite fish, Ilish.

This year's feast began with a few starters and a beverage, but we all knew where the real excitement lay. What followed was quite possibly the biggest spread of Hilsa imaginable.

There was Hilsa Bhaja, Hilsa Bhapa, Hilsa Jhol, Hilsa Tok and Hilsa Murighoto, accompanied by all the Bengali essentials—steaming Bhaat, Bhaja Moonger Dal, Begun Bhaja, Alu Bhaja, Green Salad, Gondhoraj Lebu, Papad and Pineapple Chutney.

Course after course arrived, and every preparation brought its own character to the table. Crispy, steamed, rich, tangy, spicy and comforting—there seemed to be no end to the ways in which Ilish could be transformed into something delicious.

And then came dessert. Nolen Gurer Ice Cream, Rajbhog and Mishti Paan brought this magnificent feast to its sweet conclusion.

Did we have an Ilish Feast? Absolutely!

In fact, bets were laid on how many pieces of Ilish one could possibly manage. And believe you me, some of those bets were won!

We were the first people to arrive, settling in for a lunch that began at 12 noon, and somehow, we ended up being among the last to leave—walking out well past 3 in the afternoon.

Three hours of Ilish, conversation, laughter and an unapologetically indulgent Bengali feast.

Some lunches are simply meals. This one was an annual ritual, a gastronomic challenge and a celebration of Ilish all rolled into one.

Until next year's Hilsa Festival… Ilish, we shall meet again!

Sweet Redemption at Bonne Creme

 

After the mix-up at lunch, my wife and I needed something to lift our spirits that afternoon. We needed a little sweet resurrection for our rather downed spirits—and we found just the place for it: Bonne Creme.

The Café District of Kolkata is perfect for moments like these. Every time you find yourself in the neighbourhood, there seems to be a new joint waiting to be discovered. This time, it was an ice cream place with some of the smartest and most tastefully done interiors we had come across.

The ice cream tubs immediately caught our attention.

The first flavour that caught my eye was Godhoraj Lemon. I asked for a taster and, the moment I tried it, I knew this was the one for me. The refreshing citrusy punch was exactly what I needed.

My wife, meanwhile, embarked on her own serious ice cream investigation. She went through what seemed like half a dozen flavours before finally settling on Almond Nougat Salted Caramel, even though they had a Matcha & Jasmine flavour. Well, you know my wife and her Matcha obsession by now, but I think today's quota of Matcha was done at Ariko!

One large scoop each, served in a cone, and we simply sat back and enjoyed our ice creams.

As I looked around, I realised that Bonne Creme was a venture by Balaram's, which made perfect sense given the attention to detail and the quality of what was being served.

And just like that, the afternoon had been redeemed.

Sometimes, all it takes is a really good ice cream to turn a disappointing day around. For us, Bonne Creme provided the perfect sweet ending—and the perfect redemption—to an otherwise rather eventful afternoon.

Potato Jackets, Matcha, Mix-Ups & a Little Bit of Bengali

 

We wanted to have a light late lunch and decided to try out a place that had been getting rave reviews. They were making waves because they specialised in potato jackets, and the menu certainly looked interesting.

By the time we reached the place, a light drizzle had started. We got inside, and since we were hungry, we got straight to ordering.

My wife, as you know by now, has been swept up in the Matcha craze, so she ordered a Strawberry Matcha, while I went for an Oreo Shake. I settled on a Smoky Pulled Chicken from their Signature Jackets, while my wife ordered a Non-Veg Supreme from the Classic Jackets.

While ordering, however, there was our first little hiccup. The menu clearly mentioned that Bacon was included in my wife's selection, but we were told that Bacon would cost extra because the menu had been updated but the printed copies hadn't yet been changed. Fair enough, we accepted that, although it didn't exactly sit well with us.

Then there was another small irritation. The girl attending our table kept speaking to my wife in Bengali, even though my wife was speaking to her in English. And no matter how many times my wife continued in English, the Bengali continued.

As an afterthought, we also ordered some Jalapeño Long Fries from the Spud Bites section.

Anyway, the Strawberry Matcha and my Oreo Shake arrived. My wife was quite happy with her Matcha, but I was seriously disappointed by the shake. It seemed to be little more than cold milk blended with cocoa powder to create some froth, with a single Oreo biscuit dropped into it. Not quite the Oreo Shake I had imagined.

Then my Smoky Pulled Chicken Jacket arrived, and I tucked straight in. My wife managed to take a couple of nibbles, but her jacket was nowhere to be seen. It finally arrived after I had completely finished mine, followed shortly afterwards by the fries.

Surely, when two people arrive together for a meal, the common-sense thing would be to serve their dishes more or less together?

Thankfully, the timing debacle didn't take away from the taste. The Jalapeño Long Fries were unique, crispy and tasty. And my jacket was actually delicious. Who knew a humble potato jacket could be so flavoursome?

But then came the kicker.

When the bill arrived, we found ourselves charged for everything—yes, the extra Bacon as we had been told—but also for two additional Chicken toppings in our jackets that we hadn't ordered!

At that point, my wife lost it. The girl serving us immediately had the bill corrected and was apologising profusely.

But, as they say, damage done.

My wife paid the bill and promptly informed me that we were never coming back here.

I, on the other hand, am a little more accommodating. I always tend to think things through with my tummy.

If my tummy thinks it's yummy, we're coming back!

So, yes, we probably will return once the heat dies down and the memory of this rather chaotic experience has faded. Because despite all the little irritations, the potato jackets themselves were genuinely good—and that's ultimately what brought us here in the first place.