From Fancy Watches to Fancy Food

 

My mother-in-law wanted to get a couple of her fancy watches attended to, possibly just needing their batteries changed. So, naturally, we offered to take her to South City Mall, where there was a watch shop that could hopefully sort them out.

And since we were going to be out anyway, the obvious next question was — where are we having lunch?

My original master plan was quite straightforward. Leave home around 11 in the morning, beat the Sunday-and-Puja-shopping crowds, get the watch business done and then go for lunch.

Simple.

Which, of course, meant there was absolutely no chance of it happening that way.

We got delayed and eventually left home only a little after noon. We first headed to my in-laws' place, picked them up and, by then, the carefully constructed sequence of events had already fallen apart.

So we changed the order of the plan.

Pet Puja first. Watches later.

As usual, my wife had already discovered a new place to eat. She put the details into the navigation and off we went towards Ballygunge Place.

Our destination was Drip Culture Cafe & Bakery.

One immediate relief was the presence of valet parking. With two senior citizens in tow, not having to worry about finding a parking spot was a very welcome start to the afternoon.

And then we walked in.

Drip Culture was quite a pleasure to the eyes. The interiors were warm, spacious and nicely done. Sober without being boring, sophisticated without trying too hard and stylish while still being practical.

But what really caught my attention was the table.

We were shown to a large table for four and, honestly, it felt luxurious.

Nowadays, so many cafés seem to be designed around the principle that a table should barely have enough room for two people and their phones. If you order anything more than a couple of plates, you immediately start playing Tetris with the crockery.

Here, we actually had space.

A large table. Four comfortable chairs. Room to put things down.

What a concept!

The menu arrived next. It was a decent-sized menu without being one of those encyclopaedic affairs where you need half an hour just to decide which section to read.

I like being decisive, and I also knew that with four of us ordering, the decision-making process could easily become an extended family conference. So I quickly settled on a Brownie Loaded Shake and a Pizza Volcano.

My wife went for a Strawberry Ice Matcha Latte, my mother-in-law chose a Raspberry Crème Brûlée, while my father-in-law went through the usual process of considering practically everything before finally settling on a Strawberry Cheesecake Shake.

We also ordered Bratwurst, Chicken Liver Pâté and Penne in Pink Sauce with Chicken.

And then we waited.

Which gave me a chance to properly look around.

There was a lot of staff.

In fact, there seemed to be almost one person for every table. I was quite surprised at how well staffed the place was. Someone always seemed to be around, but thankfully without that feeling of being watched.

As we chatted, the drinks began arriving one after another.

And these weren't tiny café glasses pretending to be drinks.

They were properly sized drinks in actual glassware, each served in different shapes of generous proportions. My kind of café.

Then the food started arriving, beginning with the Pizza Volcano.

Now, this was something I hadn't seen before.

The pizza had eggs on it, with the yolks almost perfectly poached. It looked quite spectacular when it arrived and, more importantly, tasted just as good as it looked.

It disappeared rather quickly.

The Chicken Liver Pâté was another revelation. As far as I can remember, this was possibly the best I've had in a very long time. Rich, smooth and absolutely delicious.

The Bratwurst was tasty, while the Penne in Pink Sauce with Chicken was equally satisfying.

Everything was beautifully presented, but more importantly, the food actually lived up to the presentation. That isn't always the case.

And then there was the service.

Exemplary.

Attentive without being intrusive, quick without making us feel rushed and genuinely pleasant throughout.

By the time we had finished eating, we were very definitely skipping dessert. Which, considering what we had already consumed, was probably a sensible decision.

We asked for the bill.

But before leaving, curiosity got the better of me.

I asked if I could have a look upstairs.

One of the young ladies immediately offered to show me around and escorted me through the building.

And that's when I realised just how ambitious this entire operation was.

The first and second floors housed Hungry Sardar, serving Indian and Chinese cuisine.

The third floor was the kitchen and bakery.

And then the fourth floor housed Yaara – Shisha Lounge.

So this wasn't simply a café occupying a little corner of a building. This was a full-fledged food and hospitality project spread across multiple floors, with three distinct offerings.

Quite an ambitious undertaking.

But after experiencing Drip Culture and getting a glimpse of the rest of the building, I could understand the vision. If the other outlets maintain the same attention to detail, food and service that we experienced at the café, I wouldn't be surprised if this place does rather well.

Eventually, we made our way back downstairs.

The valet brought our car around and we were on our way to South City Mall, mission number two of the afternoon: the watches.

By now, of course, the Sunday-Puja-shopping madness had properly awakened.

Getting to the back of South City, where the entrance to the multi-level parking is located, seemed to take forever.

And then we discovered why.

The parking was full.

Completely full.

So much for my brilliant morning strategy of beating the crowds.

The Puja shopping season had clearly arrived.

I suggested that we abandon South City and head to Acropolis Mall instead. I figured it would hopefully be a little less maddening.

So we backtracked all the way there.

Eventually, after another round of parking, walking and navigating the mall, we managed to get the watch business somewhat sorted.

And by then, it was evening.

Just like that, another Sunday had disappeared.

What had started as a simple plan to get a couple of watches' batteries changed had turned into a lunch at a new café, an unexpected tour of a multi-storey food project, some seriously good food, a parking adventure at South City, a detour to Acropolis and, of course, another new place added to our ever-growing list of Kolkata eateries.

Not a bad way to spend a Sunday.

And once again, the watches were almost incidental.

The food, as usual, was the main event.

Hungry Sardar - 1st Floor

Hungry Sadar - 1st Floor

Hungry Sadar - 2nd Floor

Yaara - Shisha Lounge - 4th Floor

A Different Gariahat & The First Signs of Puja

 

After that rather unexpected but absolutely amazing lunch, we got back into the car and resumed our journey towards our original destination for the afternoon. But, as is often the case with our Saturday outings, the plan wasn't quite done changing.

We decided to take a slight detour towards Gariahat Market.

Now, finding parking around Gariahat on a Saturday afternoon is hardly something you look forward to. We drove around for a bit, looking for that elusive parking space which, in this part of Kolkata, can sometimes feel like you've stumbled upon a rare archaeological discovery.

Eventually, we managed to park and made our way into the market.

And then came the surprise.

Gariahat Market had changed. And changed quite dramatically.

The first thing that hit us was the sheer amount of space. The second was how clean it looked.

In fact, for a moment we were a little confused about where we were.

This was Gariahat?

The market that I remember as a glorious maze of shops, people, merchandise and, most importantly, shopkeepers extending their displays well beyond the boundaries of their own shops?

It was almost unrecognisable.

For years, the common areas had gradually become extensions of the shops, with clothes, footwear, bags, household goods and pretty much everything else spilling out into the walking space. Navigating through the market often meant squeezing past displays, shoppers and fellow pedestrians, all while trying not to knock something over.

But this time, most of that had disappeared.

The shops had been pushed back into their proper spaces and suddenly there was room to actually walk through the market.

And what a difference that made!

I had heard that Minister Agnimitra Paul had visited the market and conducted a clean-up drive, but hearing about something and actually seeing the results in person are two very different things.

This was impressive.

Of course, old habits die hard. We did notice some shops already beginning to inch their merchandise back into the common areas. Just a little here... and a little more there.

I suppose they'll discover the consequences of their discretion if and when she comes back for another inspection!

But for the moment, shoppers can actually walk around comfortably, browse the shops and, quite remarkably, see the floor of the market.

Hopefully this isn't just a temporary makeover.

And while we're at it, perhaps the same treatment could be extended to the pavements around Gariahat and Rashbehari Avenue.

Now that would be something.

Imagine being able to walk along those pavements without having to constantly dodge shop extensions, parked vehicles, hawkers, people and whatever else happens to have occupied the footpath that day.

One can dream!

Anyway, our business at Gariahat was done and we got back into the car and continued towards our next destination — Metro Cash & Carry.

And that's where we got our first real indication that the next big Kolkata season was just around the corner.

Right at the entrance was a Durga idol.

Yes, that time of the year was already beginning to make its presence felt.

The Durga Puja shopping season is almost like a festival before the festival itself. The moment the idols, decorations and Puja-themed displays start appearing, you know Kolkata is slowly beginning its annual transformation.

Interestingly, though, once inside Metro Cash & Carry, we were quite happy to discover that the Puja shopping frenzy hadn't quite reached there yet.

Unlike Gariahat, where the signs of shopping for the month ahead were already very much visible, things inside Metro were relatively calm.

Which suited us perfectly.

We had our weekly grocery shopping to do and managed to get that out of the way without having to fight our way through hordes of Puja shoppers.

And since we were already there, I decided to take advantage of the opportunity and squeeze in a little Puja shopping of my own.

After all, if Kolkata is going to spend the next few weeks getting ready for Durga Puja, I suppose I should make some contribution to the process too.

So, from an unexpected craving for Chole Bhature, to sandwiches, a surprisingly transformed Gariahat Market, and finally our weekly grocery run with a little Puja shopping thrown in...

What had started as a simple Saturday lunch was turning into quite a packed afternoon after all.

From Chole Bhature to Sandwiches — A Saturday Lunch Plot Twist

Another Saturday noon and we suddenly realised that it was probably a little too late to actually put a meal together at home.

So, as is customary in such situations, my wife turned to me and asked the all-important question:

“What would you like to have for lunch?”

For some inexplicable reason, Chole Bhature had somehow lodged itself firmly inside my head. No idea why. No particular craving before that. But once the thought arrived, there was no getting rid of it.

So I suggested we head to the food court at Acropolis Mall.

My wife, however, seemed to think that going all the way to a mall just for lunch was a bit too much effort. She then reminded me of Govindam Pure Veg Restaurant, a place we'd driven past countless times. We'd often wondered, “Will we ever actually go there for a meal?”

Well, apparently not that day either.

We got dressed and headed out.

And then came the first twist.

As we stepped into the lift, an image of Sandwiches suddenly popped into my head.

Not Chole Bhature.

Not Govindam.

Sandwiches.

And as though some strange form of husband-wife telepathy had kicked in, my wife suddenly looked at me and asked:

“Are you sure you don't want sandwiches?”

My head exploded.

I looked at her with the most exaggerated pair of googly-woogly eyes I could manage and asked her if she had somehow been inside my head because I had literally just been thinking about sandwiches.

We both burst out laughing.

And somewhere between our apartment door and the ground floor, the lunch decision had completely changed.

Sandwiches it was.

By the time we got into the car, my wife had already decided on a place. It was new, and she wanted to try it out.

So the destination went into Google Maps, the route was plotted, and within seconds the first voice instructions came over the car speakers, directing us towards Dobby.

We reached Dobby, my wife hopped out and went in while I had to perform the slightly more complicated operation of finding somewhere to park.

Fortunately, I managed to squeeze the car in quite cleverly, helped enormously by the pandal structure opposite, which had already managed to occupy a good chunk of the carriageway.

Durga Puja is nearly upon us.

And yet, strangely, I don't quite sense that mad frenzy in the air that usually precedes Puja in Kolkata.

But that's a completely separate matter altogether.

I had a growling tummy.

So I joined her inside.

The menu was refreshingly compact.

Just the way I like it.

Do a few things, do them well.

That's always been my philosophy when it comes to food menus. When a place has pages and pages of things to choose from, I usually start wondering whether they really do any of them particularly well.

This wasn't one of those places.

It didn't take me long to zoom in on my choice:

Next Level Chick Sandwich and Salted Caramel Cold Coffee.

Decision made.

I'm quite decisive when it comes to ordering.

My wife, on the other hand, took her time, went through the options and eventually settled on the Caprese Sandwich, Salted Fries and Biscotella Shake.

Now ideally, the drinks order should have been the other way around.

But occasionally I like to mix things up.

There was a bit of a fiasco with the card machine when we were ordering and paying. But considering this was a newly opened place, these are exactly the sort of teething problems one expects.

Nothing that couldn't be sorted.

And sorted it was the moment the owners arrived.

But what really caught my attention was what happened before all that.

Our first sandwich and drink arrived.

Then the fries.

And this was minutes after placing the order.

Now, isn't that what QSR is supposed to mean?

Quick Service Restaurant.

Some of the big fast-food brands that built their reputations on being fast food could probably take a few cues from this place.

Because this wasn't even calling itself a fast-food joint.

It calls itself a Gourmet Sandwich place.

And yet the food was flying out of the kitchen.

I was impressed.

Then came the moment of truth.

I took my first bite of the Chicken Sandwich.

And my tastebuds got confused.

Not in a bad way.

It was tasty. Very tasty, actually.

But my brain wasn't quite sure what it was tasting.

The menu had mentioned the Bengali influence, but somehow my senses were all over the place. You know how your mind associates a particular flavour profile with a particular cuisine? Your brain expects that taste, but your palate suddenly experiences something else.

And then there is that moment of:

“Hang on… what exactly am I tasting?”

I guess the fault was partly mine.

I had preconditioned myself to expect a particular taste.

But thankfully, that didn't stop me from devouring the sandwich.

The chicken inside was succulent, and before long there wasn't much left to analyse.

Just an empty plate.

The fries arrived fresh as well.

And these were proper fresh potato fries, rather than the packaged, uniform fries that have become so familiar at many fast-food joints.

Then came the Caprese Sandwich.

In fact, it arrived while I was still busy with my chicken sandwich.

And despite being completely vegetarian, it was absolutely scrumptious.

Delicious, fresh and very satisfying.

The drinks also delivered exactly what they promised.

And then came the moment of truth for the Biscotella Shake.

I took a sip.

Yep.

Perfect.

By now, regular readers will know that I have some rather exacting standards when it comes to that particular drink.

So when I say it passed the test, that's saying something.

We eventually finished our lunch and were sitting around when the owners, who had been busy chatting with an influencer about her promotion plans and such, came over to us.

They wanted to know what we thought.

And then came the slightly terrifying bit.

They wanted our feedback on camera.

I resisted.

Naturally.

My wife, naturally, encouraged me.

And then, well...

What exactly do you expect from chatty ol' me?

The floodgates opened.

Feedback was shared.

Suggestions were given.

Opinions were expressed.

And somewhere along the way, what started as a quick lunch turned into a mini feedback session.

We congratulated them on the new venture and wished them all the very best for the upcoming Puja season.

Then we paid the bill, walked back to the car and headed off.

And just like that, our Saturday lunch journey had gone from Chole Bhature → Govindam → Sandwich Telepathy → Dobby → Gourmet Sandwiches.

Not quite the lunch we'd planned.

But then again, that's often the fun of a Saturday in Kolkata.

You leave home looking for one thing...

…and sometimes the city, or your wife, has something completely different in mind.

Matcha, Meat Market & A Teenage Curfew

 

By now, if you've been reading my blogs, you'll have realised that Cafe De Lema is right up there on our favourite café list. So when my wife's friend Gudya came calling and said she wasn't really in the mood for a restaurant and would much rather do a café and something light for dinner, the decision was almost made for us.

Cafe De Lema it was!

She had already been out for lunch at Sienna Cafe, so a relaxed café dinner was perfect. And, as usual, once we settled in, the orders almost placed themselves.

You guessed right.

Matcha for my wife. Lotus Biscoff Shake for me. Cold Brew for Gudya.

And then came the food — French Fries, a Meat Market Pizza, Chicken Wings with Buffalo Sauce and a Cannelloni which, I have to say, they do perfectly. So much for "something light"! But then again, when have we ever been particularly good at keeping dinner light?

Of course, one round of drinks wasn't going to be enough.

My wife went for a Strawberry Matcha this time, while I switched gears completely and ordered a Vietnamese Iced Coffee. Because apparently, one can never have too many coffees in an evening!

After dinner, we did something that we had somehow stopped doing a while ago. I have absolutely no idea why. So, I insisted.

We stood outside the café and took a selfie together.

Nothing fancy. Nothing particularly significant. Just the three of us standing outside, smiling at the camera. But sometimes it's these little things that you realise you've stopped doing without even noticing.

And then, because the evening wasn't quite over yet, we took Gudya to Bonne Creme, which is just around the corner. This was meant to be a little surprise for her.

And surprise her it did!

She was pleasantly taken aback by the place and, more importantly, by the rather tempting selection of ice creams. Naturally, there was no way we were simply going to look at them. We each picked one and, with that final dose of dessert, we were officially done for the evening.

Or so we thought.

On the drive back, Gudya's mother called.

And suddenly, Gudya was transported back to her teenage years!

We couldn't stop laughing as she told us what was going on. She had forgotten to take her house keys with her, and her mother and the maid were actually staying awake waiting to open the door for her.

It brought back memories of those days when we'd stay out practically the entire night and our parents would be sitting at home wondering when we'd finally return.

Except this time, it wasn't some wild night out.

It was just café dinner, ice cream and a selfie.

Apparently, adulthood doesn't necessarily mean you've outgrown getting a phone call from your mother asking when you're coming home!

And just like that, another perfectly ordinary evening became one worth remembering.

Jashn-e-Masti: Because Life Needs a Little Music

 

We got invited to an evening of music at the SRFTI Auditorium and, to be honest, the first thing that intrigued us wasn't even the music!

Having lived practically across the road from the Satyajit Ray Film & Television Institute for years, we had somehow never set foot inside the campus. In fact, we didn't even know that their auditoriums could be rented out by outsiders. I guess it's a rather sensible way for the institute to generate some revenue towards its upkeep. Whatever the reason, it finally gave us an excuse to cross the road and discover what had been sitting right under our noses all these years.

The evening was called Jashn-e-Masti, organised by Roof Stage — an organisation of amateur singers who, like many of us, probably grew up singing into imaginary microphones and dreaming of one day performing on a real stage.

And this was their stage.

The audience was largely made up of family, friends and acquaintances who had come together simply for the love of music and, I suspect, to cheer loudly for someone they knew on stage. There is something wonderfully infectious about amateur performers. There may not be the polish of a professional concert, but there is plenty of enthusiasm, passion and that unmistakable feeling of “I can't believe I'm actually doing this!”

The show was scheduled to begin at 6 PM.

It eventually got underway a little after 6:30.

Indian Standard Time.

Some things, apparently, remain beautifully consistent wherever you are!

Once it started, however, the wait was quickly forgotten. What followed was a three-hour extravaganza of classic Hindi music, taking us on a nostalgic journey through some of the finest voices and songs from the golden era. Kishore Kumar, Lata Mangeshkar, Manna Dey, Asha Bhosle and many more found their way onto the stage.

For three hours, the auditorium was filled with songs that many of us had grown up listening to — the kind of music that doesn't really need an introduction. One song would bring back a memory, another would have people quietly singing along, and before you knew it, you were transported to another time.

Holding the whole evening together was the brilliant host, Gulshan Nadeem, who managed to keep the audience engaged throughout. His easy interaction with the crowd added plenty of energy between the performances, and he wasn't content with merely introducing the singers.

He surprised everyone by stepping onto the stage himself and performing a song!

Clearly, this was one evening where the MC wasn't going to let the singers have all the fun.

Three hours later, the show finally came to an end. By then, it was considerably past my normal dinner time and my stomach was beginning to remind me that music, however soulful, unfortunately isn't edible.

Thankfully, we didn't have to go very far.

We stepped out, walked over to Tandoor Park, which is right next to our place, and picked up a couple of Egg Chicken Rolls.

And just like that, the perfect Kolkata evening came to an end — three hours of Kishore, Lata, Manna Dey and Asha Bhosle, followed by an Egg Chicken Roll.

Music for the soul. Rolls for the stomach.

A pretty good evening, if you ask me.

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.