And of Course, There Had to Be Coffee!

 

Now, if you've been reading my blogs, you have probably realised by now that a Saturday outing — especially one involving food — is never really complete without Coffee.

And sure enough, the moment we got back into the car after our Pizza lunch, my wife announced that she wanted to try out this new coffee place she had discovered. It wasn't very far away and, as luck would have it, it was on our way back home anyway.

Well, there really wasn't much to discuss.

The name went into Google Maps and off we went.

The place is just around the corner from one of our favourite restaurants, Cafe De Lema. In fact, I have often thought that the Lake Terrace–Purna Das Road stretch could quite easily become Kolkata's very own Cafe District.

There are enough cafés popping up in the area to make it a perfect walking neighbourhood — wander around, stop at one café for coffee, another for dessert, perhaps another for a quick bite and, if you're sufficiently motivated, repeat the exercise.

I rather like the idea.

Anyway, we soon found ourselves outside Aura Coffee.

The first thing that caught my attention was the signage outside. Simple, stylish and quite unlike the usual coffee-shop clutter. And once inside, the place lived up to its name.

There really was an aura.

It is tiny, but has that wonderfully understated feel of a little coffee shop you might stumble upon on a side street somewhere in London. Nothing pretentious, nothing overdone. Just a small, thoughtfully designed space that gets the essentials right.

Even the menu caught my attention.

Tight. Neat. Limited.

I love menus like these.

There is something reassuring about a place that doesn't feel the need to serve you 47 different things just because it has a kitchen.

In my experience, when a restaurant or café has a small menu, there is a good chance that they actually care about what they put on it.

And Aura Coffee certainly seemed to prove the point.

I ordered their Aura Cloud Latte, while my wife, predictably, went straight for the Kyoto Strawberry Matcha.

Yes.

Matcha.

My wife has developed an uncanny ability to detect Matcha from several kilometres away. Put her anywhere in Kolkata and tell her there is a new café, and within minutes she'll know whether they serve Matcha.

I'm beginning to suspect she has a Matcha radar.

The drinks were excellent. My Cloud Latte was beautifully done, while her Strawberry Matcha seemed to meet the very high standards of the resident Matcha Inspector.

What impressed me even more, though, was the young boy managing the café.

He was handling the entire place by himself, yet everything seemed to be running like clockwork. Efficient, hospitable and professional, he managed the orders, the coffee and the customers without making it look like he was juggling half a dozen things at once.

That's not always easy to do.

And then there is the logo.

The Aura Coffee logo features a Husky — apparently because one of the partners has one.

And, as I discovered, the same partner is also into Nike shoes.

So there you have it.

A Husky.

Nike.

Coffee.

Good design.

Great taste.

That's the Aura!

By now, you can probably guess that we left rather pleased with our little coffee stop.

What started as a simple Saturday lunch outing had turned into a Pizza followed by Coffee, with a little Italian flavour followed by a touch of London street-café charm.

And honestly, what more does one need from a Saturday afternoon?

So, if you're around Lake Terrace or Purna Das Road and looking for some good coffee in a tiny little café with plenty of character, Aura Coffee is definitely worth a visit.

Just remember — if you're going with my wife, check the Matcha availability first.

Apparently, that's the more important question.

Pizza, Rain & a Slice of Italy

How does a week disappear so quickly? One minute it is Monday and you are wondering how you are going to survive the week, and the next thing you know, it is Saturday noon and you are wondering how you are going to survive making lunch.

We were feeling particularly lazy that Saturday and the thought of entering the kitchen, deciding what to cook, actually cooking it and then, worst of all, cleaning up afterwards, seemed like far too much of an undertaking.

My wife, therefore, came up with the perfect solution.

“Fancy Pizza for lunch?”

Now, I may deliberate over many things in life, but when presented with a cuisine, I know better than to disagree.

So we put the name of the restaurant into Google Maps and off we went.

As we were climbing Sukanta Setu, just before the bend, we noticed a bunch of bikers who had pulled over to the side. Some were busy putting on raincoats. As we got closer, we could see that the road ahead was wet and there were raindrops falling.

Clearly, these gentlemen had seen what was coming.

We, however, decided to exercise the superior judgement afforded to people sitting inside an air-conditioned car and drove straight past them.

Barely 200 feet later, we reached the top of the curve.

Completely dry.

Not a drop.

As we descended, I looked into the rear-view mirror and saw three of the bikers riding along, laughing and chatting with each other. They had obviously decided to brave the weather and take their chances.

And, at that moment, it appeared they had won.

Unfortunately for them, their victory celebration was somewhat premature.

We reached the T-junction and stopped at the traffic signal. The same bikers came weaving through the traffic and made their way to the front.

And then...

The heavens opened.

Properly.

The poor fellows were now sitting there, exposed to the elements, with nowhere to go until the signal changed. I watched them from the comfort of my car as they waited patiently for the green light, presumably wondering why they had been so optimistic just a few minutes earlier.

When the light finally changed, they disappeared in search of shelter.

Karma, apparently, travels on two wheels.

The rest of the drive was thankfully uneventful and we soon reached the restaurant.

Outside was a rather portly gentleman in a T-shirt and shorts, hurriedly smoking a cigarette. As I began parking the car, he spotted us and immediately dashed inside.

I thought nothing of it.

Until I saw the same gentleman a few moments later behind the counter, shovelling a Pizza into the Dome Woodfire Oven.

Ah! The Chef.

That explained the urgency.

The restaurant, Olio & Sale, is run by a Bengali lady married to an Italian Chef, and the Italian influence is evident as soon as you walk in. The interiors have a lovely Mediterranean feel, with blue walls and white highlights giving the place a distinctly European character.

And, thanks to the rain, there was another bonus.

Apart from one occupied table, we had the restaurant pretty much to ourselves.

We settled down and called one of the boys over to take our order.

We were surprised to find that Pork wasn't actually on the menu. When we asked about it, we were told that although it wasn't listed, they did make it.

Well, that was hardly a problem.

So we ordered a Ham & Pepperoni Pizza and a Burrata.

The drinks weren't on the menu either because they were apparently still deciding what they were finally going to keep.

Clearly, we had arrived during the restaurant's “menu under construction” phase.

There were some bottled drinks available, but I went for a Mint Mojito while my wife ordered a Spiced Grapefruit Tonic Water, which she loves.

I, on the other hand, have never understood Tonic Water.

It tastes like someone took perfectly good water and decided it needed to be punished.

The Pizza arrived in a jiffy, followed shortly afterwards by the Burrata.

We were pleasantly surprised by the speed of service.

I picked up a quarter slice of the Pizza, folded it and took a bite.

And there it was.

A little slice of Italy.

The Pizza had that lovely wood-fired character and was absolutely delicious.

The Burrata wasn't far behind. Served with Andalusian Gazpacho and cherry tomatoes, along with Garlic Bread, it was fresh, creamy and beautifully put together.

For once, I genuinely couldn't decide which I liked more.

The Burrata was superb.

The Pizza was superb.

It was going to be a difficult decision.

Fortunately, my wife solved the problem by allowing me one slice of her Pizza.

And that one slice was enough.

Pizza won.

By exactly one slice.

As we were finishing, the restaurant was beginning to fill up. We were offered dessert and, much like the drinks, we were told that the dessert menu was also still being finalised.

At this rate, I was beginning to wonder if we were eating at a restaurant or attending a focus group.

Still, when they mentioned Tiramisu, there was no further discussion.

The Tiramisu arrived in a little box with a couple of spoons. We had a few mouthfuls and, unable to finish it, packed the rest to take home.

And that was our lazy Saturday lunch.

No cooking.

No washing up.

A rainstorm that caught a few overconfident bikers by surprise.

A portly Italian Chef disappearing into his kitchen with a Pizza.

A restaurant with half its menu still being “finalised”.

And, finally, a rather delicious little taste of Italy in Kolkata.

Sometimes the best lunches are the ones you never intended to cook.