Let's set the record straight on Oven Fresh
My first memory of Oven Fresh is from the 1990s. May be 1995. I was seven, so forgive the haziness.
It was a Sunday, and my dad had us all excited because Rambo 2 was going to air around noon on Star Movies. My mother had gone to visit her brother, so my father drove us out for breakfast. He asked us if we wanted dosa from Annapurna in Sector 32, but my sister and I wanted patties instead. So he took us to Sector 35. There was no paid parking then. Heck, there weren’t even traffic lights in the southern sectors at the time.
We pulled up outside a showroom with a green signboard that had Oven Fresh written across it in white. Inside, there was a rack on the right-hand side. My dad picked up a plate, and my sister and I chose from the baked goods stacked there.
I still remember picking up a mutton puff and a chicken croissant. Of course, we also got a 1-litre Pepsi bottle exchanged on the way home from Rajesh in Sector 44.
At home, when I bit into that chicken croissant, something in me changed. I had always been a light eater, but that minced chicken inside the bread made me crave for more. And don’t even get me started on the mutton puff.
Excellent.
Over the next few months, Oven Fresh became our family's favourite Sunday ritual of sorts. Of course, our middle-classness did not allow us to go every week. The puff cost around Rs 15, and the croissant was probably close to Rs 30. That was a lot of money back then, but affordable.
I remember trying other things from the rack too, the Russian salad roll and the chicken roll. But the chicken tikka grilled sandwich eventually became my favourite. If kids in the northern sectors had Hot Millions, which I also love, we in the south had OF, and that was not short for OnlyFans.
I barely recognise the menu now. I have never tried the pizzas, pastas or sizzlers there. Maybe that is because I already know their secret sauce lies in the grilled sandwich and the croissant. McDonald’s came to the city, so did KFC and Mr Burger, though the order is in reverse. After that came all the overrated food chains from India and abroad. But Oven Fresh stayed strong.
For a brief period around 2007-10, we even thought Nik’s had an outside chance of overtaking it. But these guys always focused on quality.
That is what set them apart.
For most of my student life, Oven Fresh was affordable. The grilled sandwich still cost around Rs 75 when I was in college. And honestly, I am glad they became expensive over time. They earned it.
I have seen them transition from that nostalgic green board to the awkward pink phase, and then to the more Corbusier-esque grey. It grew alongside the city, maturing like fine wine.
Even now, when I walk into Oven Fresh, they know what I am going to order. Sometimes I even get a little nudge-nudge, wink-wink bump up in the waiting list.
To many people, Oven Fresh may just be that overrated place Chandigarh yuppies keep yapping about. But for me and for the babus (born-and-brought-ups) of the southern sectors, it represents the fruition of aspirations. When we went from Chetak to Maruti and now to an SUV whose manufacturer we don't even remember.
It is also one of the last constants in a city that has changed beyond recognition. Back then, everyone knew everyone. Now, you do not even know the uncivil new neighbour with the Rs 1-crore car who refuses to park in his driveway and blocks half the road with his diesel-guzzling monstrosity.
Oven Fresh is about nostalgia.
It is about the comfort of knowing you will still get exactly what you came for. That chicken croissant still tastes the same. The grilled sandwich still melts in my mouth.
So the next time you head to Oven Fresh on someone’s “recommendation”, remember: it was never really about the pizzas or the pastas. It is about a feeling you will know only if you have lived it.