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Black Velvet
The nooks of Mumbai hide corners that only cyclists can find. And one of those corners is a cafe that offers free coffee to cyclists. Its also got free wireless and lots of free friendliness. Its in the second lane behind Rhythm house, right across from Trishna. Kala Ghoda Cafe opened only about a week ago, a whitewashed barebrick starkmodern kind of place redolent of New York, contrasted against the recently slicked-up Trishna across the lane. Its a wonderful sunlight relaxing kind of place, with great coffee, wonderful biscotti, sandwiches that showed promise and an utterly charming mezzanine. The wholegrain bread they served me was some of the best I've ever had anywhere.
All in all, I'm a fan.
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Moshe Moshe
Haircuts are usually not on my list of pleasant, but friends sometimes take pity on me and treat me to goodies afterwards. Tuesday night the goody was a tasting session at the launch of Moshe’s newest outlet in (finally) Bandra. The location is tucked up above Nature’s Basket, a death-defying climb up some narrow stairs or a lift ride away from the street. The layout is similar to his other locations – walking in brings you face to face with the breads, and then there’s a nice dining area which, for this tasting session, was dominated by a table filled with salads, cheeses and turkey cold cuts. I’ve never been thank thankful for turkey, but the Mediterranean-tinged salads were, without exception, wonderful. Then the real assault started. As we sat down with glasses of pleasant white wine, little square plates filled with food started chasing us in what seemed like a never-ending supply. Nice little kebabs on sticks, poppers of asparagus and leek, two kinds of risotto, tofu, spicy chick...
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Aunty Esme's Potato Chop
Sunanda's mother Aunty Esme briefly tempted me off my diet with the most sinful combination of all that is not allowed; potatoes, meat and deep fry. With superhuman exercise of will, I restricted myself to just half but the drool covered the entire floor. The object of temptation was something that landed up from foreign shores, but became distinctively Indian – in this case East Indian. Its the Potato Chop. The actual item is rather simple, a mashed potato shell filled with mince of some kind, coated in breadcrumbs and fried. A great potato chop is a perfect balance of the fatty smooth goodness of the potato contrasted with the crunch of the outer crust and the chewy, spicy flavour-burst of the mince inside. Maybe it was all that self control, but yesterday's potato chops were the best I've had in a while. The potatoes seemed more luscious, the mince juicier, the crumbed outer more perfect. I find the naming of "potato chop" quite amusing. The East Ind...