Nothing is worth waiting for 45 mins. Not even your Prince Charming. And definitely not some cafe that boasts to be outright fake in its very name.
With that corner table right next to the entrance given to us, it quite felt like at the receiving end of some charity. Nevertheless I was looking at all the props used to give this place “an illusion of” being much bigger and better or fancier than it actually is. Some props kept walking in and out.. often with a fake Ferragamo.
Lets say in my heart I had given up already so I just let my partner decide what to order in the hope of getting surprised. What followed.. actually surprised me. Loud and intrusive staff, in-your-face dishes, with over the top presentations shouting for undeserved attention. It all felt like being a part of some confusing nursery play show without any reason or rhyme.
Dal Chawal Arancini in tapas menu was struggling to figure out who to please. Neither Italian nor Indian, it was a forced hybrid that got confused if it wants to be cheesy or spicy. Poor baby Margharita Kulchas were already made pregnant with so much stuffing that they cried out loud to contain. Farzi Vada Pao with its reverse recipe was playing hide and seek with god-knows-who.
Proceeding to the main course, The Ratatouille Maska Pav came in a truck that would delight anyone who is not obsessed with hygiene. Fish & chips were revolutionised modernist-ically by crumb frying. Next came, my most awaited Anda Bhurji Kulcha. I didn’t know the age-old recipe of egg bhurji has now been changed to just mashed boiled eggs! And then there are grown up people who would want to be served their burgers in a mini London telephone booth. Or pick lollypops from a big white tree for dessert. A kid might be very entertained to see a typewriter with the cheque but wait, who are we kidding here? Why wasn’t I warned about this gawky little amusement park? I’d have left my tastebuds at home and come for just some foamy desserts and drinks.
What was the connection with MasalaLibrary again?