rude food: butter chicken to duck confit - fratelli wines sanghvi_hindustan_times...7/2/12 rude...

7/2/12 Rude Food: Butter chicken to duck confit - Hindustan Times

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Connect to Canada: The chef-owner Niniemerges periodically from behind the rangeto go up and introduce herself to guests ateach table

Monday, July 02, 2012Vir Sanghvi, Hindustan TimesJune 29, 2012

First Published: 16:24 IST(29/6/2012)Last Updated: 17:23 IST(30/6/2012)

Rude Food: Butter chicken to duck confitAfter I claimed, two Sundays ago, in this column that Bombay was now getting ahead of Delhi when it came toWestern food, I have had angry responses from Delhi loyalists who insist that their city still remains the capital ofgood food. Plus, they point out, there is no maniacal cop with a hockey stick who runs around terrorising citizensin Delhi, and the liquor laws are far more sensibly enforced. (You don’t need a permit room or a permit itself toenjoy a drink in the capital.)

I’m not taking sides in this debate but in the interests of justice,I’ve spent the last week checking out new places in Delhi. Mywell-travelled friend Vikram Doraiswami told me to go to ChezNini. He was sure I would like it. Ever since I met SaurabhKhanijo of Kylin at the launch of a collection of columns by SonalKalra, the foodie who is editor of HT City, I meant to visit one ofhis establishments – and last week I finally did. When I tweetedabout eating at Chez Nini, somebody tweeted backrecommending Rara Avis, another new French restaurant inSouth Delhi so I duly went off to have lunch there as well.

So, first of all, here’s what I consider the find of the week: ChezNini. It is a small, new, bistro-type restaurant located in MeharChand market (no, I hadn’t heard of Mehar Chand either; it isbetween the Habitat Centre and Lodhi Colony market). I had noidea who ran Chez Nini or what their credentials were, but onceyou get there, it is hard to miss the chef-owner Nini who emergesperiodically from behind the range (you could see her cookingfrom my table) to go up and introduce herself to guests at eachtable.

Even though she did come up to my table and chat, I’m afraid that I can tell you very little about her except thatshe clearly grew up in Quebec, or French-Canada at the very least, because she recommended poutine, a dishthat involves smothering perfectly good French fries with cheese and brown gravy and is ubiquitous in Montreal(I think they even serve it at McDonald’s there.) My son goes to university in Montreal so I’m quite willing topraise the city of Leonard Cohen and McGill University but I do draw the line at poutine…



Happy meal: At Rara Avis, the burger was terrific, a bit messy to eat,but all the more delicious for that

A fresh taste: Chez Nini is small, has lots of sunlight and the furniture has clearly been designed bysomebody who cares about comfort and aesthetics

But long before Nini came up to our table, and an hour before poutine was even mentioned, I did a kind ofdouble-take when I entered the restaurant. It is small, has lots of sunlight and the furniture has clearly beendesigned by somebody who cares about comfort and aesthetics. The whole room is un-restaurant-like and youcan tell that no hospitality industry professionals were involved in its conception which, frankly, is a relief becauseit means that the restaurant seems fresh and different.

I hadn’t booked in my own name so Ithink I went in under the radar butservice was friendly, welcoming andefficient. We ordered from a smallmenu and from a blackboard of dailyspecials and I went a little overboardso I could taste as much as possible.We started with a poached egg,crisply deep-fried in batter, servedwith fresh asparagus. Poached eggand asparagus is a classiccombination and the dish wasflawlessly executed, but I could havedone without the Russian salad typethingie that cluttered up the centre ofthe plate.



Cooked it together: Rajiv Aneja (centre), Frenchmen Laurent Guiraud(right) and Jerome Cousin (left) are the three partners behind Rara Avis

Of the mains, there was an excellent duck confit, among the best I’ve eaten in India (only chef Nick at Setz canmatch Nini’s effort), a wonderful pork belly, melting on the inside and nicely crisp on the outside, and a home-style Coq au Vin, without the bacony taste that haunts restaurant versions but with a light mustard tang. A sideorder of mushrooms was terrific too.

The standout dish was a daily special from the blackboard: a duck burger. I’m something of a bore on thesubject of burgers but my least favourite versions are those made with chicken (yuck!) or goat (never quite right).There was no beef on the Chez Nini menu so the burger was made with minced duck to a recipe that I’ve nevercome across before (I suspect it might be the chef’s own). I thought the burger was perfect in every respect andthe bun, in particular, was perfection personified.

Later, when Nini emerged from thekitchen (where, no doubt, she hadspent a large part of the afternooncooking my massive meal!), I askedher how she managed to source suchexcellent ingredients. The answer wasthat she made the effort to go out andfind local suppliers. Almost everythingin the restaurant was fresh. Nothinghad come from a packet, a can or abottle and the few things that wereimported (the enoki mushroom in theside dish) could usefully be eliminatedfrom the menu.

The duck was not from Delhi’sFrench Farm, suppliers to most highclass establishments, but from alesser-known local supplier. Thepork came from a farmer. The eggshad actually been laid by chicken thatclucked and danced around, not bybattery hens. And all the bread washome-made. Ah yes, I said, but whatdid she do about her French fries?Surely, those were imported? Not atall, she replied, she had found afarmer who supplied the restaurant with potatoes that were low in sugar and perfect for frying. I looked scepticalso she suggested I try the fries. (It is at this stage that the Canadian influence let out a tiny squeak: she offered mepoutine, only to retreat when I looked horrified.)

So I tried the fries. They worked but were nothing like your average McCain or Lamb Weston frozen chip.Instead they had a character and texture all of their own. And yes, I would order them again.



It is so rare to find a restaurant run by a chef who is so passionate about local ingredients that I was prepared toforgive Chez Nini even if the food had not been very good.

But there was nothing to forgive. This is the best bistro-style European (or French-Canadian or whatever) foodin India. It beats the hell out of anything of this kind in Bombay, Calcutta, Bangalore, Madras or wherever.Unlike Chez Nini, Rara Avis is pretty clearly a product of catering industry professionals. It is a large (comparedto Chez Nini at least) room on the second floor of a building in GK-II Market. My first impressions were notfavourable. Though only one other table was occupied, there was no one to greet us and we hung arounduncertainly for a bit. When we finally found a table, we had to quickly abandon it because an insect had alreadyoccupied the space. Nobody apologised for the insect or cared that we had to move. The man who took myorder did not understand the menu and seemed obviously ill at ease.

A good hangout: Kylin is tastefully decorated with little alcoves and an open terrace and is packed withlocals who enjoy sushi and teppanyaki grilled meats

To while away the time till the food came, I fell into conversation with a man who appeared to occupy a seniorposition in the restaurant, though he was playing no obvious role in the management of the dining room. He told me his name was Rajiv Aneja and that he was one of the three partners behind Rara Avis. The other two,Laurent Guiraud and Jerome Cousin, were French, he said, and boasted impressive pedigrees: Olive, Manre etc.

I was beginning to wonder about the pedigree when suddenly the energy in the room changed. More peoplestarted coming in. And a Frenchman (Laurent, I later discovered), arrived and took charge of the dining roomwith an air of calm, sure-footed assurance. He checked all the orders, came to my table and said “You’veordered a lot of food. Are you sure you need so much?” I indicated that yes, I was sure. He shrugged, smiledand wandered off.

Then, the food began to arrive. We started with a Pissaladière, a Provençal tart that is well-known to well-



Death by tart: The warm lemon tart at Rara Avis was irresistible

travelled rich Indians from La Petite Maison in London, a restaurant that is pretty much Indian-Central in thesummer months. A Pissaladière is, essentially, a Frenchified pizza but the Frenchmen at Rara Avis have decidedto cross the border and abandon France for Italy. Their Pissaladière was basically a thin-crust pizza. That said, itwas also very good though I’m not sure they would have got away with serving it in Nice.

Next came a very nice duck confit that suffered by comparison only because I’d eaten the excellent Chez Niniversion two days before. Then they served a perfectly acceptable steak, though at the prices they were charging,this had to be Indian produce, not some fancy imported cut. And there was also a terrific burger, a bit messy toeat, but all the more delicious for that.

The standouts though were thedesserts. The warm lemon tart wasirresistible and the crêpes stuffed withchocolate were so good that it washard to stop till the plate was empty.All this, with some Diet Coke, cameto Rs 3,800. I reckon two peoplecould eat very well for between Rs1,500 to Rs 2,000 if they did notorder as many dishes as I had.

Later, Laurent came to our table aspart of his rounds and I was able toask him about the food. The steakand burger were indeed local; RaraAvis had taken a deliberate decisionto pizzafy the Pissaladière ; thedesserts were made in house; theduck was French Farm; yes, the winelist was boring but it was still a workin progress; and his partner Jerome,who looked after the kitchen, wasunwell so all the cooking had beendone by the Indian cooks, which suggested that cuisine standards are high even when the chef is off.

By the time I left, the restaurant had filled up with locals and regulars. Many of the guests greeted Laurentwarmly and knew what they were going to order even before they saw the menu. Considering that Rara Avis isonly about two months old, this is quite an achievement. I asked Laurent about the guest profile. He said that hehad been astonished to find that even though diners came mainly from Greater Kailash and its neighbourhood,they all wanted to eat snails, steak and confit. Many guests had complained that there were no frog legs on themenu. History will probably remember Laurent and Jerome as the guys who taught Punjabis to eat snails and lustafter frogs.

Clearly Delhi is changing faster than we realise. Another example of the change is the alacrity with whichJapanese food has entered the standalone mainstream. Saurabh Khanijo runs Kylin Premier at the Ambience



With love from Japan Saurabh Khanijo (above left), owner of Kylin,had flown in a teppanyaki chef from Osaka and wanted me to try hisfood

Mall in Delhi’s Vasant Kunj so he can hardly charge five-star prices. Even so, his restaurant has no difficultymaking money; it is packed out night after night with locals who enjoy his sushi and his teppanyaki grilled meats.

Unlike Chez Nini and Rara Avis, where I wandered in as just another paying customer, I was a guest at KylinPremier. Nor was this an average night. Saurabh had flown in a teppanyaki chef from Osaka and wanted me totry his food.

I won’t attempt to do a full-fledged review because I did not get the average guest experience (I was there withSaurabh) and the Japanese chef will probably be gone by the time you read this.

Even so, I will say that I liked therestaurant. It is tastefully decoratedwith little alcoves and an open terracearea, which must work wonderfullywell when the weather is nice. Thestaff are experienced andknowledgeable. The Indian chef whocooked for me had worked at Oliveand TK’s before. My server was agirl I knew from Sakura where sheheld the service together and dealtexpertly with smiling Japanese anddemanding Korean guests. (This timeshe told me that she was off to thehomeland, not meaning Manipurwhere I thought she came from, butIsrael. When I looked mystified, shesaid that many Kukis – like manyMizos – believe that they are part ofthe lost tribes of Israel and that shewas a practising Jew. I took care tosay Shalom to her after that).

When he is not employing the losttribes of Israel, Saurabh takes troubleover the wine in the restaurant. Thechef cooked with Sula but guestswere offered excellent Fratelli winesby the glass including a very niceMerlot. There was also an extensivecocktail menu.

As for the food, well, of course it wasgood: a visiting Japanese master chef was cooking. We had black cod, pork chops, lamb cutlets, vegetables andfried rice, all cooked in front of us on a griddle by a Japanese chef who knew very little English but certainly

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knew his food.

I had told the chef that I would eat omakase (a Japanese term that translates roughly as “I’ll leave it to you” [thechef] ) and so he kept turning out course after course, pausing only to ask, in sign language, if we liked the dish.This method of communication worked for the most part but was open to misinterpretation. For instance, at theend of the meal, he stopped, looked directly at me and made a gesture near his belly to indicate a very fatstomach.

I wondered if this was a comment on my figure but it turned out that he was only asking, “are you full?” (At least,that’s what I was told he was asking). I liked Kylin Premier. But I liked what it represented even more. Itssuccess – along with the success of such places as Rara Avis and Chez Nini – shows us that the old cateringindustry consensus that Indians will only eat “Moghlai” or “Punjabi-Chinese” is dying. A few yards from KylinPremier, Zambar was serving excellent Kerala food and people were queuing up for tables. Across the hall, thequeue at Chili’s (a table-service international burger joint) was even longer. So, let’s forget for a moment aboutthe Bombay-Delhi rivalry. Let’s just celebrate the opening of the Indian palate. Just as India is now moreinternational and adventurous than ever before in our history, so too is the Indian restaurant industry. Finally weare getting world class meals – outside of the hotel sector – at neighbourhood restaurants in our big cities.

That alone is something worth celebrating.

F rom HT Brunch, July 1

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