A Late Lunch, A Strong Beer & A Little Old Calcutta Charm at Chung Wah

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. 

A New Screen, A Crazy Bus & One Very Curious Drive

 

For the past six years, I’ve been meaning to do something about getting Google Maps navigation onto the screen of our car. Six years! And for one reason or another, I just never got around to it.

Today, as I got into the car, I finally decided enough was enough. Five to seven minutes of connecting my phone, downloading a couple of apps and—voilà!—our Wagon R now has Maruti Suzuki SmartPlay working on its infotainment system. Suddenly, I feel like I’m going to get a whole lot more out of a system that has been sitting there all these years!

With my newly upgraded navigation setup, I headed out to Dum Dum Park, which is pretty much on the other side of town from us. As I got onto the E.M. Bypass, I spotted an absolutely amazing bus. I caught up with it at the next signal and managed to click a few photographs from behind. Then I tried getting some shots while driving alongside it.

Near Ruby, I finally overtook it—and that's when I got a glimpse of what the front looked like in my rear-view mirror.

I was tempted.

I seriously considered gaining some distance, pulling over and waiting for the bus to catch up so I could get a proper frontal photograph. But the traffic was heavy, I was already running late, and common sense eventually won. I gave up and continued on my way.

When I got home, I showed the photographs to my wife. She couldn't believe what she was looking at. And when I described the front of the bus, she immediately reached for her phone, convinced that something this bizarre must have already made its way onto some content creator's YouTube channel.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, she was sharing a YouTube video with me!

So, apparently, I wasn't the first person to be fascinated by this crazy-looking bus. 😄

I'm sharing the video here too, because sometimes you come across things on Kolkata's roads that are so bizarre, you simply have to see them to believe them.

And yes, I really wish I had stopped to get that front-facing photograph!

The Last Salute: A Love Letter to a Legend

Having binge-watched Operation Safed Sagar, there was absolutely no way I was going to miss The Last Salute – A Love Letter to MiG-21 on Netflix.

The documentary is a fitting culmination of the 62-year legacy of the MiG-21, the Indian Air Force’s first supersonic fighter, as this legendary aircraft is finally bid farewell by the very people who had the good fortune of flying, maintaining and working around it.

Directed by Kushal Srivastava, the same director behind Operation Safed Sagar, the film does tremendous justice to an aircraft that was far more than just a fighter. For generations of IAF personnel, the MiG-21 was a companion, a workhorse and, in many ways, an inseparable part of their lives.

What makes the documentary special is the emotion. Srivastava brings out the memories and stories of pilots, maintenance crews, air traffic controllers and others whose lives were touched by this remarkable machine. You can feel the pride, affection, nostalgia and, at times, the sadness of saying goodbye.

The MiG-21 was once the backbone of the Indian Air Force, and The Last Salute captures why this temperamental, demanding and legendary fighter earned such a special place in the hearts of those who flew it.

It isn't just a documentary about an aircraft. It is a farewell to a legend—and quite literally, a love letter to the MiG-21.

And what a fitting last salute it is!

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.