I love food. Passionately. All cooking on weekdays is focused on producing healthful, not-extraordinary-but-good-to-eat meals quickly in 45 minutes or so. But weekends are for indulgence. For trying to find the best sambar-idli/vadai in the Adyar-Indira Nagar-Besant Nagar ciruit (anything worth driving over to Mylapore for?). Weekends are for lazy lunches cooked at home and for trying to find the best value for money buffets around the city.
The Hero and I ended up meeting friends at a posh buffet this weekend. The Rs 800 a plate it’s the let’s-sleep-without-dinner-tonight-honey kind. Certainly not the value for money kind. And while the company was good, the food left a lot to be desired. It wasn’t bad. But it was neither the Westernized crap fancy hotels like to feed us nor was it authentic Indian food. It was a washed out version somewhere in between. And I was disappointed. Especially after seeing the “check”. So, here I was with the feedback form. The table littered with half-eaten desserts. And a “check” for Rs3200 (4 of us) And we write, “The desserts were disappointing”.
Back comes the manager for specific feedback. “Ma’am, could you please elaborate?”. The Hero’s no help in such situations. My embarrassment is his entertainment. His two friends are watching. And it’s all sort of like a post-lunch entertainment show. And I say, “Umm… The Shahi Tukda was too hard and the malpua was nice but not authentic.” I didn’t have the heart to add that the cakes were too sweet, the “lychee-orange shooters” made the guys gag (I cleverly escaped), and that some of the other stuff just put me off. So we sit there, the three guys enjoying my embarrassment, when the manager brings the chef out!
Aaarrgh! How do you tell the chef to his face that the meal he put out was just not worth the money? I know that a few of you would be able to, with no embarrassment at all. But I just can’t. It’s like… I don’t know, just insert an appropriately cruel sounding end to the analogy.
So, I say to him, “Umm, I’m not sure if this is how it’s supposed to be. I’m not a chef (but I’m a darn good cook. I just didn’t say it). Whenever I’ve had Shahi Tukda, it’s been soft. This was hard. And I’ve spent many Holi’s in Bihar and I felt the malpua was not authentic”. The three idiots love the moment. And they love it even more as the chef apologizes profusely. And I say, “Please don’t embarrass me! It’s just what I feel”. And finally, The Manager and The Chef leave me alone. But not before they say, “I’m sorry. It will be better next time”…
They really believe there would be a next time? I just say to the others, “Why don’t we just have lunch at our place next time? I’ll cook. You bring fruit.” And with that, we exit the posh hotel (the restaurant is attached to a hotel. Chennai hasn’t hit my English that badly yet). And I just confirmed to myself that not only am I a country bumpkin, I’m also happy to be one. 1600 rupees for bad malpua… Tsk! What next?
