Restaurants

FIP, Whither Art Thou??

Kinda miss the chap’s blog. The answer to that question though, is writing a book. Or rather, that statement should be in the past tense; the book’s already been written. The Gamechangers, if yer so interested. And which, in keeping with the abiding tradition of publication sleight of hand, has its release perfectly timed to cash in on all the IPL hoopla. And which should also mean a hefty bonus or two for the editors in question. Don’t think I’d want to read the book though. 

Ancient Hindu tradition has it that there are four phases to human life; Brahmacharya, Grihastha, Vanaprastha and SanyasaI though, am of the sincere opinion that the sages and the powers-that-used-to-be missed out on enunciating a fifth, and possibly, the most important phase of ’em all; Laundry. There is a school of thought which posits that other religions like Jainism and Buddhism evolved primarily as a reaction to such lax identificatory paradigms as prevalent in Hinduism. The true trailblazers in this respect were/are ofcourse, the Digambar Jains.

Crawford’s sells this small pack of custard creams for 59p. Absolutely love ’em. For one particular reasons. Back at law school, we used to have this entire array of shacks outside our side gate. And they basically used to sell only two, no, make it three, things of note; Dim-wala Maggi (mentioned in passing here), Kismis Bars (which are bloody brilliant, and which I’ll probably blog about, along with Pudina Chips and Phantom Cigs sometime later), and finally Parle-G creams priced at some 5 bucks a packet.

These creams, if memory serves me correctly, used to come in flavours like orange, pineapple and elaichi. And used to be bloody awesome. Many must there have been days when I used to wake up a min or so before the classes begun and had to rush pell-mell into the acad block, or for that matter, those days when there used to be something shady for breakfast (which to be fair, happened only on those glorious occasions we used to be served uttapam. And a brief digression here: Imagine. Imagine, waking up, for the first time in weeks nay, months, in time for breakfast. And then Imagine, being served, but with what, Uttapam @#&%). ‘Twas then, that these Parle-G creams used to come into their own. And by God, they were a lifesaver. I might not get Parle-G in London. But, Crawford’s ain’t too bad either.

Was watching Two and a Half Men yesterday. To be honest, its a bit like Two and a Three-Quarters now. Ultra-weird.

And now a word about food. And related follies. Had fried squid yesterday. At this place called Tai Won Mein in Greenwich. Snag’s b’day celebrations. The Soccer-Man and Ms. Steinbeck were there as well. Bloody, bloody awesome. The rest of their fare was strictly middling though. That being said, for the monies paid, the portions were humongous. Which was much, much good 🙂 There is this pub off Shaftesbury Avenue called Freud, which the Soccer-Man considers possibly the last word on pubs with “Character”. It is this dark, dingy, sub-terranean hangout, you know, and to be fair to the man, the place probably has as much character as it is possible for anything embedded in the bowels of earth to have 🙂

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Fourteen, Nineteen

It takes fourteen minutes to walk down from Green Towers, Golf Green to South City Mall.

It takes nineteen minutes to walk down from Green Towers, Golf Green to Jadavpur P.S.

I recently re-discovered Muscat Halwa. Tucked away somewhere in a nondescript sweet shop, in the narrow bylanes of Central Cal. Most sweets leave me cold. The saccharine overdose is often too much for me. Certain things though are just plain awesome. Say, Soan Papdi, a couple of Malai Chops, properly made Kulfi, or even freshly baked Chhena Poda. Muscat Halwa falls into the same general category of awesomeness.

Sunny’s to Sharma’s: Not so long back, Tamarind was probably the only decent South Indian restaurant worth its name in Cal. Then, suddenly, it just bloody disappeared. Now, I am not exactly the greatest aficionado of grub originating from South-of-the-Vindhyas (To wit, I love Vadas, I hate Uttapams, and I am pretty much ambivalent to everything else in between as long as I am not served anything squishy), but I did kinda miss the blasted place. Then, recently, I caught sight of it again. Its barely a few hundred metres away from where it used to be originally. On the same bloody road. Its probably on the first floor now though.

I don’t like justifying myself. Now, you can either take that as an admission of a deeply personal nature, or a mere expression of typographical intent.