38 Starters... then some More!

On the first floor of Eros Cinema, Churchgate (lift available), they have opened a comfortable restaurant spread across the length of the room, called Starters & More. True to its name, at the last count there were 38 starters to choose from. There must be more now. But the best reason for a visit are the mussels, the poor man's oysters, done in what they grandly call the Cafe de Paris Butter.

The mussels come from Kerala, large and fleshy, and a fresh stock arrives daily, unless there is some problem with the airlines. When ordered, they are sauted in garlic, then put under the grill and butter poured on top of them. The secret is in the butter, it is treated with wine, garlic, pepper, parsley and anchovies. The mussels are replaced in their individual half shells, more butter poured on them, and eaten.

I do not visit S&M that much, but when I do, I make it a point to order the mussels. They are among the more fishy-tasting items, and, along with the mussels (a stronger taste than oysters) they bring along the taste and scent of the sea, weeds, ozone. I eat them in single mouthfuls, the meat as tender as a calf's liver, not one bit chewy, unless the chef is having an off day. And after eating the mussel, I drink the remaining butter.

Elaichi-flavoured raan at Mirch Masala

DIETICIANS are advising: Drink red wine, eat white meat. Red wine is fine, but the white meat part is difficult. Besides, I prefer red meat, it has more body and substance, also more blood. In comparison, chicken is like cotton wool, too dry. So, every time I pass Mirch Masala on Linking Road, Bandra, I enter. A most peculiar construction, like a castle in a fairy tale, and looks somewhat incongruous on a busy bazar road. But I do not wish to comment on the architectural merits of the construction.

I wish to draw your attention to their elaichi-flavoured raan. Elaichi is cloves and they are generously used in the preparation of the leg of the lamb. The lamb is young and tender and the kind whose meat you can separate from the bone with a couple of spoons, if you have to. Small pockets are made in the leg, lower thigh, and whole cardamoms are stuffed into them. The leg is allowed to marinate through the night, with yoghurt, a little cumin, black pepper, a touch of nutmeg. And the following day it is cooked on the slowest fire in the world. The cooking liqueur, thus collected, is made into a sauce. The raan is brought to the table, dressed in three varieties of pulao, vegetable pulao, saffron rice, and a chutney pulao, otherwise known as nilgiri pulao.

You can eat the whole thing according to your taste. And don't order it if you are alone, you won't be able to finish it.

Soul Fry's alive, and throbbing!

THIS is to inform that Soul Fry is alive and well at the foot of Pali Hill, Bandra and beyond. And they still sell you a fish thali, with rice and chapattis and fish curry and Bombay ducks. They sell you three types of thalis, Goan, Malwan and Mangalore, though I am sure neither they nor you can tell the difference.

What I like best about the thali is the Bombay duck, though they don't call it that, they call it bombils, which is correct. It is fried crisp, but not as crisp as at Gajali, the Malwan eating house at Santa Cruz, on the other side of the railway tracks. At Gajali, it is as crisp as a biscuit and crumbles in the mouth. The process, however, is the same, the single central bone is removed, then the bombil is squeezed between two stones to remove the water from its body. When, more or less dry, it is done in a simple masala of red chilli powder, haldi and jeera, prepared in Goa palm vinegar. Fine rice powder is patted on the fish before shallow frying. The skin becomes crisp, the inside remains tender.

The Parsis have a third way of doing the bombil. They fry it in an egg batter, they don't remove the bone, and they don't squeeze out the water. It comes out plump and fluffy. Perhaps, the Parsis know best. But where have they got the restaurants to sell them!

Teatime at Resham Bhavan

THE most elitist tea in Mumbai, you get at the Tea Centre at Resham Bhavan, Church-gate. There was a major reference to it in the last UpperCrust. Mind you, I am saying elitist, not the best, though it could be the best also. And there is nothing wrong in occasionally being elitist. You would find me there in the afternoons, sipping an Assam and wishing somebody would play the piano. The atmosphere is just right, misty tea plantations and dusty Kolkatta auction houses, and customers ordering fragrant Darjeeling, robust Assam, velvety Nilgiri, and the fine tipping golden flowery orange pekoe (FTGFOP). The presence of Prahlad Kakar, dressed like a worldly Tibetan monk, makes it more romantic. We have to thank Mr. Kakar for reviving the place. It is actually a high tea place and more. And the kitchen, besides sponge cakes and fried fish and chips, provides you with some esoteric combinations, Gujarati khakras and French Boursin for example. A Mrs. Cooper, prepares the Parsi dhansak at her house and sends it about twice a month. So far I have not been able to coincide my presence there with the dhansak afternoon. But I am working on it.

Blue Berry Ice-cream at Cafe Downtown

CAFE Downtown, adroitly placed between two walls opposite the Liberty Cinema at Dhobi Talao, is a comprehensive fast-food place, which serves everything from burgers and pizzas to some very original salads, pastas, etc. But it also serves some genuine American ice-cream, made in America and directly sent across.

It is the famous Blue Berry ice-cream, and it is sent direct from Le Mans, Iowa, USA, to Mr. Ravindra Singh Bedi at Cafe Downtown, New Marine Lines. It is made from milk with 12 per cent fat content (in India, the fat content does not extend 10 per cent) and it is shipped from America in refrigerated containers.

I think he has added to the varieties now, but the last time I was there he had a toasted almond fudge with a chocolate base and a cherry-banana split.

Sorry, no pork!

I FIND it most upsetting, the way restaurateurs are always apologising for not having pork on their menu because the quality of meat is poor. I find more and more of them doing so, saving themselves extra work, when they should be finding new sources of decent pork. This has extended to the five-stars also. The other day, I was in the grill room of one of these, invited by the restaurant. Since it was an invitation, I thought I would experiment with the pork. You don't mind that when you are not risking your own money. The waiter very discreetly suggested that I should change my order. And yet there are two places in town which serve excellent pork, day after day, and they are economy plus. City Kitchen at Fort Market and Martin's on Arthur Bunder Road. How do they manage that.

The same excuse, I find, is being trotted out for duck also. And that by Chinese restauranters. Shame!