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Every September, Mount Mary Festival turns Bandra into a beautiful collision of faith and festivity. For a food enthusiast like me, it is also an opportunity to taste some of Mumbai’s native Catholic cuisine. You may be wondering why I use the word “native”. The origins of the festival are rooted in a local tale.

In the 16th century, when the Portuguese built the Mount Mary Church on the hill overlooking Salsette Island (today's Bandra), folklore says a Koli Christian fisherman dreamt of a statue of the Virgin Mary lying beneath the sea. The statue was found, and the annual fair became a celebration of that miracle.

Nearly 500 years later, the dream of a Koli Christian fisherman has been handed over to influencers on social media. FOMO

During the 90s, when I used to visit my uncle in Bandra, the suburb was known for its churches. Today, I doubt there is another place in the country with as many cafés per square kilometre as Bandra. East Indian food should've been Bandra's Jhunka Bhakar. Instead, one sandwich shop after another has quietly replaced it. Gentrification 101.

We started with the good old choriz pav at a small stall near the Mount Mary back road called Mount Mary Munchies. It  was tangy,  and full of that porky flavour. ₹80 well spent.

Then we walked towards Mount Carmel Church, where the real carnival happens. The giant Ferris wheel. The viral spinning disc ride. Lights, music, chaos. And then… confusion.

The first few stalls were serving seekh parathas, biryani, fried rice, chicken lollipops, naan sandwiches—and I genuinely had to ask myself:

Is this the Mount Mary Fair or the Mahim Fair?

Thankfully, right opposite the Ferris wheel, we found a mix of Goan and East Indian food stalls.

The first stall gave us a Prawn Cutlet (₹60) packed with tiny juicy prawns and a wonderfully seasoned potato filling. 

But the real jackpot was the next stall called Senade’s Treats. An old uncle and his good looking son were running the stall, and they seemed to be making sandwiches out of every possible meat. We ordered:

• Buff Roast Pav (₹100)
• Buff Tongue Pav (₹90)
• Prawn Rissois (₹50 each)
• Guava Cheese (₹350)

The buff tongue was slightly dry, so Uncle smiled and spooned some of the rich beef roast oil into the pav. That tiny gesture transformed the sandwich. Easily the highlight of the festival. The guava cheese a forgotten bandra delicacy was too sweet for my liking, but the rest of the group loved it. The prawn rissois were decent, the beef roast pav was also very flavourful.

With changing times, even East Indian stalls are trying to make food that appeals to the younger crowd. There were fried chicken burgers and other sandwiches that are not particularly East Indian. We tried a fried chicken wing because the sauce looked appetising. Sadly, it turned out to be the worst thing we ate that day.

Most traditional East Indian stalls specialise in pork and buff, while today's Mount Mary crowd is far more diverse. Naturally, vendors adapt. That's probably why the fair is filled with food from every corner of Mumbai. 

Still, I would urge people to visit the Mount Mary festival (Sunday 20th September is the last day) and look for the East Indian food. Otherwise, you will find it in only a handful of places across the city.

What is a Maharashtrian identity? This question has become the talk of the town, or should I say, the entire state. Some people find their cultural identity in language, some in their attire, while most people like me find it in food.

At a lunch organised by TBF(the big forkers) at another talk of the town restaurant, Maratha Kitchen, I decided to test my Maharashtrian identity. What better occasion than a curated fourteen course, strictly non vegetarian lunch.

For any good regional spread, we were served an array of chutneys, starting with a fiery red chutney, a sweetish green chutney and every fusion restaurant’s wet dream, homemade garlic peanut thecha.

The meal was divided across five regions: Konkan, Nagar, Pune, Vidarbha and Kolhapur. Basically, a full road trip through Maharashtra without having to deal with reckless Fortuners driving like it has diplomatic immunity

The meal started with dishes from Raigad, a place close to the founder’s heart. The agri prawns (3.5/5) were spicy and rustic, though a little too spicy for my liking. For those allergic to prawns, there was a mori, or shark, preparation. I actually preferred it to the prawns.

This was followed by the usual crowd favourite, surmai fry (5/5). You rarely eat a bad surmai at a Konkani food joint, but it also rarely stands out. It is almost the fillet o’ fish of Konkani cuisine. But this fillet rose to the occasion so well that I can claim, "I have never eaten a better surmai in my life". The fish was fresh, the meat tender and the fillet cut thin to perfection. With some lime squeezed on top, it felt like a one way boat ride to the Konkan, without the sea sickness.

The usual fish curry and rice (4/5) followed, made with rawas. It was warm, comforting food, the kind a fisherman would eat after a hard day at sea. This course came with sol kadhi (3/5), which was decent. Some people thought it was the best sol kadhi they drank. I have had better!

Next came mutton chops lal tikhat (4/5) from Nagar, or Ahmednagar/Ahilyanagar. They were dhaba inspired mutton chops covered in a red, grainy masala. Abhishek, the owner, told us about a popular dhaba on the road from Pune to Ahmednagar, famous for beer, spicy mutton chops and a line of white Fortuners outside it. The chops were tender, earthy and spicy. They definitely needed some beer, but sadly there was only sol kadhi and no fizz.

A trio of mutton followed from Pune and Vidarbha: mutton fry (4/5), kharda mutton (5/5) and gavran saoji (4/5). They were the teen tigdas, but thankfully not the kaam bigdas of the meal.

The mutton fry was a nice homemade curry, comforting in taste but as boring as most Punekars. The gavran saoji was a surprise because it was unlike any saoji I had eaten before. Tukaram Sir should definitely try it once. Maybe he will stop complaining about saoji. It was not extremely spicy or oily, and was lighter in colour than the usual darker version.

But the kharda mutton stole the show for me. It was mixed with a coarse masala of coriander, garlic and green chillies, then cooked in desi ghee. It was the best mutton dish of the day.

For a moment, I imagined myself as a shetkari in rural Marathwada, wearing a Gandhi topi under a large banyan tree, rubbing khaini and gossiping about local politics. It went beautifully with bhakri. The kind of food that makes you briefly consider leaving Mumbai, until you remember the electricity cuts, water scarcity and inadequate public transport.

I slurped up the other two curries with Indrayani rice, Maharashtra’s aromatic, soft and slightly sticky rice variety. Does the rice mirror the Punekars?

Towards the end, we were served the rice dishes. First came aalni bhaat (4.5/5), the crowd favourite, rice cooked in mutton stock and ghee. It was exactly what the doctor had prescribed. I would choose aalni bhaat over paracetamol any day.

Next came kolhapuri kheema fry with pulav (4/5). The kheema was different from the regular kheema we eat in Mumbai. It was rustic and the pulao complemented it well.

To wash down all that rice, we were served aalni rassa along with the Kolhapuri rassa duo, pandhra and tambda rassa (4/5). They sound like a WWE tag team from kolhapur, spicy and bold, with every gulp delivering a KO.

There were no desserts and no other fluff. We started with meat and ended with meat. I guess this lunch was also a small protest against all the politics around food happening in Mumbai and its suburbs, iykyk. A strong statement that meat and non vegetarian food are very much part of Maharashtrian identity.

I went to the lunch to reaffirm my geographical identity as a Maharashtrian who has lived in Mumbai for five generations. I came back with something more. I found my Maharashtrian asmita.

Pro tip: If an MNS karyakarta, or anyone else, asks you to speak in Marathi, play a reverse uno and ask them if they have tried all the different meat dishes from Maharashtra.

Kharach na?

Restaurants named after their address are usually judged by how well they bring the local geography onto the plate. 66 Chuim is an exception. It brings global flavours to a narrow village next to Khar Danda Koliwada, without really incorporating any of the local Koli flavours. But with the exorbitant rents in Bandra, I can understand why a restaurant owner would rather serve food that can command premium pricing.

Talking about the food first and pricing later, we went for dinner to celebrate a special occasion and ordered quite a few things.

We started with their famous liver parfait. Liver pâté, when it is not made fresh or is overcooked, has a tendency to oxidise and turn grey, which can be quite off putting for connoisseurs. This one was pink and fresh. Everything on the plate complemented each other really well. The earthiness and buttery texture of the pâté worked beautifully with the mulled wine gel and pickled mulberries. The pickled onions and ginger spring onion chutney were there to add spice or tartness, depending on what you preferred. The pickled onions reminded me of Mini Punjab’s sirke wale pyaaz.

Next, we ordered their famous Steak Frites Churchgate. The steak was medium rare and came with an entrecôte sauce, which I had to Google to discover was a French style green herb and butter emulsion (emulsion bolo, Monisha, chutney nahi.) It came with some classic French fries.

The steak was succulent and juicy, and the sauce complemented it well. But what were those McCain fries doing on a ₹950 dish? An amazing steak dish, one of the best I have had in Mumbai, can easily be ruined by substandard fries. These were over fried and salty. I think the Churchgate in the name stood for the price of the dish.

The server pushed us to try their pork sandwich, which was served in a banh mi style. The meat was good, the sauce was good, the bread was good and the sandwich was good. Nothing outstanding like the first two dishes. Any bougie café in Bandra can make this with its eyes closed, and without a pushy waiting staff member making us order it instead of a pie.

But we finally ordered the chicken and bacon pie, because portion sizes here are not Indian. They are more Bandra levels, to be precise. The pies are supposed to be their USP, and several people from the industry had recommended them to us. It was quite good, definitely better than the sandwich. The crust was fresh, the meat was nice, and I would definitely order it again if I was nearby. It is an expensive version of American Express pies, but totally worth it.

We ended the meal with madeleines and orange blossom cream. The madeleines were okay, but that cream was a banger. If Sahil Makhija, Headbanger Eats, ever starts a cream war, this would top the list.

The ambience is nice, clean and comfortable. The food arrives through a dumbwaiter type lift, which is a nice little gimmick. But if you go on an off day, the waiting staff have nothing to do except stare at you and avoid those awkward stares and smiles.

My major issue is that the prices do not justify the service, the ambience or the gimmicks. I am sure the ingredients are of the best quality, but there are better restaurants priced lower than this.

All in all, 66 Chuim has a lot of potential to become the best competitor to Bandra Born. The liver parfait and steak are worth going back for, especially with offers and discounts.

Restaurants named after their address are usually judged by how well they bring the local geography onto the plate. 66 Chuim is an exception. It brings global flavours to a narrow village next to Khar Danda Koliwada, without really incorporating any of the local Koli flavours. But with the exorbitant rents in Bandra, I can understand why a restaurant owner would rather serve food that can command premium pricing.

Talking about the food first and pricing later, we went for dinner to celebrate a special occasion and ordered quite a few things.

We started with their famous liver parfait. Liver pâté, when it is not made fresh or is overcooked, has a tendency to oxidise and turn grey, which can be quite off putting for connoisseurs. This one was pink and fresh. Everything on the plate complemented each other really well. The earthiness and buttery texture of the pâté worked beautifully with the mulled wine gel and pickled mulberries. The pickled onions and ginger spring onion chutney were there to add spice or tartness, depending on what you preferred. The pickled onions reminded me of Mini Punjab’s sirke wale pyaaz.

Next, we ordered their famous Steak Frites Churchgate. The steak was medium rare and came with an entrecôte sauce, which I had to Google to discover was a French style green herb and butter emulsion (emulsion bolo, Monisha, chutney nahi.) It came with some classic French fries.

The steak was succulent and juicy, and the sauce complemented it well. But what were those McCain fries doing on a ₹950 dish? An amazing steak dish, one of the best I have had in Mumbai, can easily be ruined by substandard fries. These were over fried and salty. I think the Churchgate in the name stood for the price of the dish.

The server pushed us to try their pork sandwich, which was served in a banh mi style. The meat was good, the sauce was good, the bread was good and the sandwich was good. Nothing outstanding like the first two dishes. Any bougie café in Bandra can make this with its eyes closed, and without a pushy waiting staff member making us order it instead of a pie.

But we finally ordered the chicken and bacon pie, because portion sizes here are not Indian. They are more Bandra levels, to be precise. The pies are supposed to be their USP, and several people from the industry had recommended them to us. It was quite good, definitely better than the sandwich. The crust was fresh, the meat was nice, and I would definitely order it again if I was nearby. It is an expensive version of American Express pies, but totally worth it.

We ended the meal with madeleines and orange blossom cream. The madeleines were okay, but that cream was a banger. If Sahil Makhija, Headbanger Eats, ever starts a cream war, this would top the list.

The ambience is nice, clean and comfortable. The food arrives through a dumbwaiter type lift, which is a nice little gimmick. But if you go on an off day, the waiting staff have nothing to do except stare at you and avoid those awkward stares and smiles.

My major issue is that the prices do not justify the service, the ambience or the gimmicks. I am sure the ingredients are of the best quality, but there are better restaurants priced lower than this.

All in all, 66 Chuim has a lot of potential to become the best competitor to Bandra Born. The liver parfait and steak are worth going back for, especially with offers and discounts.

This post is part of Mumbai Food Talk. We’re building a community for Mumbai food lovers who care about the history, culture, and human stories behind what we eat.

Parsis and Jogeshwari are like the perfect miscast pairing of Uday Chopra and Priyanka Chopra in Pyaar Impossible. But with Parsis, anything is possible.

Jogeshwari has two Parsi baugs, Malcolm Baug and Behram Baug. Malcolm Baug was developed by N. M. Wadia Charities in 1922 while Behram Baug, on the other hand, is now more commonly associated with its Muslim neighbourhood than with a breezy Parsi colony of popular imagination.

I do have a few Parsi friends in both the baugs, so it is strange that an area with two Parsi colonies has no proper Parsi restaurant or food outlet. Dinshaw’s Xpress is there, and they do serve Parsi food, but I have never really thought of it as a proper Parsi restaurant.

So when Parsi Table opened in Oshiwara a couple of months ago, I was excited. After shifting to Oshiwara from South Mumbai, I was missing the occasional Parsi food. The hospitality, not so much. (iykyk)

It is a small outlet with just a couple of tables, and the entire family runs the restaurant. I like how Mumbai is slowly adapting to owners being present in their own restaurants. Anyway, coming to the food. We ordered the quintessential mutton cutlets, the unique saas ni macchi, and ended lunch with the most marketed Parsi thing after Freddie Mercury, lagan nu custard.

The mutton cutlets were nice and traditional, with the familiar egg coating. The minced meat was tasty too, and not overly masaledar. It gave me the perfect Parsi canteen cutlet vibes. My article on PAC.

Saas ni macchi is a very unique preparation, and a much more underrated cousin of patra ni macchi. I had it for the first time at a close friend’s wedding, where the food was curated by the well known Parsi chef Tanaaz Godiwala, and I was blown away by it. I had never eaten a fish dish in India prepared in quite the same way. The gravy has this unusual texture from the flour, along with the tartness of vinegar. We opted for pomfret. The fish was quite fresh, but the saas gravy lacked the saas. It was a bit doughy and missing the flavours that make the dish unique. It was decent, but nothing compared to what I had that evening at the wedding.

For dessert, the lagan nu custard was nice. It did not have that generic, store bought quality, though I would not say it was the best I have had.

The real standout for me was the price and, surprisingly, the hospitality. I say surprisingly because most Parsi food experiences come with an old Parsi uncle staring at you and quietly monitoring every move you make. Here, instead, we had a warm and welcoming family running the place, which made the whole experience feel much more personal. They have also got the price point right, especially compared to places that price Parsi food at a premium and market it as something exotic.

I am glad I can now have mutton cutlets, and bheja cutlets on request, in this part of town. Parsi Table gives me that feeling of going somewhere for comfort rather than just taste, which is probably why I will become a repeat customer.

Next time, I want to try their berry pulao.

Parsis and Jogeshwari are like the perfect miscast pairing of Uday Chopra and Priyanka Chopra in Pyaar Impossible. But with Parsis, anything is possible.

Jogeshwari has two Parsi baugs, Malcolm Baug and Behram Baug. Malcolm Baug was developed by N. M. Wadia Charities in 1922 while Behram Baug, on the other hand, is now more commonly associated with its Muslim neighbourhood than with a breezy Parsi colony of popular imagination.

I do have a few Parsi friends in both the baugs, so it is strange that an area with two Parsi colonies has no proper Parsi restaurant or food outlet. Dinshaw’s Xpress is there, and they do serve Parsi food, but I have never really thought of it as a proper Parsi restaurant.

So when Parsi Table opened in Oshiwara a couple of months ago, I was excited. After shifting to Oshiwara from South Mumbai, I was missing the occasional Parsi food. The hospitality, not so much. (iykyk)

It is a small outlet with just a couple of tables, and the entire family runs the restaurant. I like how Mumbai is slowly adapting to owners being present in their own restaurants. Anyway, coming to the food. We ordered the quintessential mutton cutlets, the unique saas ni macchi, and ended lunch with the most marketed Parsi thing after Freddie Mercury, lagan nu custard.

The mutton cutlets were nice and traditional, with the familiar egg coating. The minced meat was tasty too, and not overly masaledar. It gave me the perfect Parsi canteen cutlet vibes. My article on PAC.

Saas ni macchi is a very unique preparation, and a much more underrated cousin of patra ni macchi. I had it for the first time at a close friend’s wedding, where the food was curated by the well known Parsi chef Tanaaz Godiwala, and I was blown away by it. I had never eaten a fish dish in India prepared in quite the same way. The gravy has this unusual texture from the flour, along with the tartness of vinegar. We opted for pomfret. The fish was quite fresh, but the saas gravy lacked the saas. It was a bit doughy and missing the flavours that make the dish unique. It was decent, but nothing compared to what I had that evening at the wedding.

For dessert, the lagan nu custard was nice. It did not have that generic, store bought quality, though I would not say it was the best I have had.

The real standout for me was the price and, surprisingly, the hospitality. I say surprisingly because most Parsi food experiences come with an old Parsi uncle staring at you and quietly monitoring every move you make. Here, instead, we had a warm and welcoming family running the place, which made the whole experience feel much more personal. They have also got the price point right, especially compared to places that price Parsi food at a premium and market it as something exotic.

I am glad I can now have mutton cutlets, and bheja cutlets on request, in this part of town. Parsi Table gives me that feeling of going somewhere for comfort rather than just taste, which is probably why I will become a repeat customer.

Next time, I want to try their berry pulao.

Parsis and Jogeshwari are like the perfect miscast pairing of Uday Chopra and Priyanka Chopra in Pyaar Impossible. But with Parsis, anything is possible.

Jogeshwari has two Parsi baugs, Malcolm Baug and Behram Baug. Malcolm Baug was developed by N. M. Wadia Charities in 1922 while Behram Baug, on the other hand, is now more commonly associated with its Muslim neighbourhood than with a breezy Parsi colony of popular imagination.

I do have a few Parsi friends in both the baugs, so it is strange that an area with two Parsi colonies has no proper Parsi restaurant or food outlet. Dinshaw’s Xpress is there, and they do serve Parsi food, but I have never really thought of it as a proper Parsi restaurant.

So when Parsi Table opened in Oshiwara a couple of months ago, I was excited. After shifting to Oshiwara from South Mumbai, I was missing the occasional Parsi food. The hospitality, not so much. (iykyk)

It is a small outlet with just a couple of tables, and the entire family runs the restaurant. I like how Mumbai is slowly adapting to owners being present in their own restaurants. Anyway, coming to the food. We ordered the quintessential mutton cutlets, the unique saas ni macchi, and ended lunch with the most marketed Parsi thing after Freddie Mercury, lagan nu custard.

The mutton cutlets were nice and traditional, with the familiar egg coating. The minced meat was tasty too, and not overly masaledar. It gave me the perfect Parsi canteen cutlet vibes. My article on PAC.

Saas ni macchi is a very unique preparation, and a much more underrated cousin of patra ni macchi. I had it for the first time at a close friend’s wedding, where the food was curated by the well known Parsi chef Tanaaz Godiwala, and I was blown away by it. I had never eaten a fish dish in India prepared in quite the same way. The gravy has this unusual texture from the flour, along with the tartness of vinegar. We opted for pomfret. The fish was quite fresh, but the saas gravy lacked the saas. It was a bit doughy and missing the flavours that make the dish unique. It was decent, but nothing compared to what I had that evening at the wedding.

For dessert, the lagan nu custard was nice. It did not have that generic, store bought quality, though I would not say it was the best I have had.

The real standout for me was the price and, surprisingly, the hospitality. I say surprisingly because most Parsi food experiences come with an old Parsi uncle staring at you and quietly monitoring every move you make. Here, instead, we had a warm and welcoming family running the place, which made the whole experience feel much more personal. They have also got the price point right, especially compared to places that price Parsi food at a premium and market it as something exotic.

I am glad I can now have mutton cutlets, and bheja cutlets on request, in this part of town. Parsi Table gives me that feeling of going somewhere for comfort rather than just taste, which is probably why I will become a repeat customer.

Next time, I want to try their berry pulao.

Cutting chai, vada pav and the local train are treated like the holy trinity of the so-called Mumbai spirit. Anil Kapoor in Slumdog Millionaire made the Mumbai chaiwala feel simple, but if you have ever been to any of Mumbai’s wholesale markets, you know a basic cup of chai can have its own whole universe. It may not carry the same romance as Darjeeling or Assam tea, but tea culture in Mumbai goes way beyond cutting chai.

Nagori tea: Nagaur, a district in Rajasthan, is known for its dairy tradition, and the Nagori community has long been associated with milk and dairy work. When they started selling milk in Mumbai’s mostly Muslim areas, they realised they could make a killing selling tea too, and that is how the thick, milky Nagori chai entered Mumbai’s street food vocabulary. Chal bhai, Nagori mein chai peete hai.

Bhatt ki chai: Growing up in the 90s and working in one of the shops in Zaveri Bazaar as a summer intern, bhatt ki chai was what every dukandar ordered for customers and staff twice a day. You can identify the Bhatts by their brass vessels and the amount of ginger that goes into the tea. Maafak, Special and Kesari Ukala are the popular ones besides the regular tea.

Irani tea: Irani chai is the most hyped and marketable chai born in Mumbai. I am sure nobody gulps this milky dessert in Iran. The Irani chai here is milky, sugary and usually comes in a ceramic cup. You would rarely see it served in a cutting chai glass or a paper cup. They made it this way because it was always meant to be had with khari, bun or brun maska, so the accompaniment can soak up all that milk in the tea. Maybe that is the Parsi logic too, the old sugar in milk idea, carrying the same ethos into their chai as well.

Chilya hotel chai: This is very close to Irani tea, because the Chilyas took over most Irani restaurants and started serving a watered down, cheaper version of it. Go to any Chilya restaurant, and if they serve the tea in a white cup and saucer, no other colour, you know you have found the Chilya tea

Yewale chai: After 2010, there was suddenly an influx of Yewale and other brands from interior Maharashtra. They gentrified the local chaiwala experience and brought in gudacha chaha, or jaggery tea. With a big mascot and outlets near every railway station on either side, it has slowly become part of Mumbai’s street legacy.

The cycle wallahs: These are the late night chai vendors. I call them wifi, because you spot them anywhere and connect with them. Mostly they sell chai with cigarettes for the late night fix at major roundabouts, signals and outside call centres in the suburbs. They have moved beyond just chai to bournvita, Horlicks and even Davidoff coffee. They are at the mercy of corrupt cops, so the cycle comes in handy when trouble starts. They are the unsung heroes of Mumbai’s nightlife, the ones you will not find in any Lonely Planet.

Tea was discovered in temperate climates on rolling hills. It is an anomaly that it became so popular in a hot and humid city like Mumbai. But I guess it helps every Mumbaikar survive the daily grind. If hustle were a food item, it would definitely be chai in Mumbai.

Note: The pictures used here are only for reference and have been sourced from the internet.

This post is part of Mumbai Food Talk. We’re building a community for Mumbai food lovers who care about the history, culture, and human stories behind what we eat.

Cutting chai, vada pav and the local train are treated like the holy trinity of the so-called Mumbai spirit. Anil Kapoor in Slumdog Millionaire made the Mumbai chaiwala feel simple, but if you have ever been to any of Mumbai’s wholesale markets, you know a basic cup of chai can have its own whole universe. It may not carry the same romance as Darjeeling or Assam tea, but tea culture in Mumbai goes way beyond cutting chai.

Nagori tea: Nagaur, a district in Rajasthan, is known for its dairy tradition, and the Nagori community has long been associated with milk and dairy work. When they started selling milk in Mumbai’s mostly Muslim areas, they realised they could make a killing selling tea too, and that is how the thick, milky Nagori chai entered Mumbai’s street food vocabulary. Chal bhai, Nagori mein chai peete hai.

Bhatt ki chai: Growing up in the 90s and working in one of the shops in Zaveri Bazaar as a summer intern, bhatt ki chai was what every dukandar ordered for customers and staff twice a day. You can identify the Bhatts by their brass vessels and the amount of ginger that goes into the tea. Maafak, Special and Kesari Ukala are the popular ones besides the regular tea.

Irani tea: Irani chai is the most hyped and marketable chai born in Mumbai. I am sure nobody gulps this milky dessert in Iran. The Irani chai here is milky, sugary and usually comes in a ceramic cup. You would rarely see it served in a cutting chai glass or a paper cup. They made it this way because it was always meant to be had with khari, bun or brun maska, so the accompaniment can soak up all that milk in the tea. Maybe that is the Parsi logic too, the old sugar in milk idea, carrying the same ethos into their chai as well.

Chilya hotel chai: This is very close to Irani tea, because the Chilyas took over most Irani restaurants and started serving a watered down, cheaper version of it. Go to any Chilya restaurant, and if they serve the tea in a white cup and saucer, no other colour, you know you have found the Chilya tea

Yewale chai: After 2010, there was suddenly an influx of Yewale and other brands from interior Maharashtra. They gentrified the local chaiwala experience and brought in gudacha chaha, or jaggery tea. With a big mascot and outlets near every railway station on either side, it has slowly become part of Mumbai’s street legacy.

The cycle wallahs: These are the late night chai vendors. I call them wifi, because you spot them anywhere and connect with them. Mostly they sell chai with cigarettes for the late night fix at major roundabouts, signals and outside call centres in the suburbs. They have moved beyond just chai to bournvita, Horlicks and even Davidoff coffee. They are at the mercy of corrupt cops, so the cycle comes in handy when trouble starts. They are the unsung heroes of Mumbai’s nightlife, the ones you will not find in any Lonely Planet.

Tea was discovered in temperate climates on rolling hills. It is an anomaly that it became so popular in a hot and humid city like Mumbai. But I guess it helps every Mumbaikar survive the daily grind. If hustle were a food item, it would definitely be chai in Mumbai.

Note: The pictures used here are only for reference and have been sourced from the internet.

Olympia Coffee House, where nobody really goes for the coffee, was suddenly in the news because Christopher Nolan, Tom Holland and Matt Damon dropped in before The Odyssey premiere. Someone from the Universal Studios local PR team thought this was a clever play using Greek terminology, but sadly the clever idea was not clever with what was ordered at the table and I will tell you why....

Olympia has been a favourite among the city’s actual food people for ages. It was always underrated compared to the more famous neighbours across the street, Leopold and Mondegar, even though those two mostly run on nostalgia and not exactly their food. When people slowly realised that, Olympia turned into the hidden gem which Instagram food influencers now pretend to discover every few months.

Olympia looks like an Irani café at first glance, but it is actually run by the Chilya community, who have a long history of running 'Cafe' type joints all over Mumbai. You can read here.

In the reel from Nolan’s visit, you see chai, bun maska and phirni. People who go there regularly know that Olympia is really famous for its kheema and sliced pav, or 'slace pav' as they call it. You can spot an Olympia veteran if they order a single fried omelette along with their kheema. I have regularly observed this since the 90s. (Kurush Dalal would even call it the Mount Olympus of Kheema.) Chai is always an afterthought there. The only thing they accidentally got right on that table was the lagan nu custard. It is technically a Parsi delicacy, but Olympia does it better than most of the overhyped Parsi restaurants in the city.

If you want to visit Olympia, order the kheema with a fried single omlett, slace pav and lagan nu custard. Not what was put on the table by an ill-informed PR executive.

Pro tip: try their dal gosht and khichda on the days they make it. They are easily as good as the kheema.

Olympia Coffee House, where nobody really goes for the coffee, was suddenly in the news because Christopher Nolan, Tom Holland and Matt Damon dropped in before The Odyssey premiere. Someone from the Universal Studios local PR team thought this was a clever play using Greek terminology, but sadly the clever idea was not clever with what was ordered at the table and I will tell you why....

Olympia has been a favourite among the city’s actual food people for ages. It was always underrated compared to the more famous neighbours across the street, Leopold and Mondegar, even though those two mostly run on nostalgia and not exactly their food. When people slowly realised that, Olympia turned into the hidden gem which Instagram food influencers now pretend to discover every few months.

Olympia looks like an Irani café at first glance, but it is actually run by the Chilya community, who have a long history of running 'Cafe' type joints all over Mumbai. You can read here.

In the reel from Nolan’s visit, you see chai, bun maska and phirni. People who go there regularly know that Olympia is really famous for its kheema and sliced pav, or 'slace pav' as they call it. You can spot an Olympia veteran if they order a single fried omelette along with their kheema. I have regularly observed this since the 90s. (Kurush Dalal would even call it the Mount Olympus of Kheema.) Chai is always an afterthought there. The only thing they accidentally got right on that table was the lagan nu custard. It is technically a Parsi delicacy, but Olympia does it better than most of the overhyped Parsi restaurants in the city.

If you want to visit Olympia, order the kheema with a fried single omlett, slace pav and lagan nu custard. Not what was put on the table by an ill-informed PR executive.

Pro tip: try their dal gosht and khichda on the days they make it. They are easily as good as the kheema.

Back in 2018, I was on a date in Kala Ghoda and we passed by this very plush looking restaurant exterior with a tongue twister of a name. My then Tinder date told me she had recently been there and it was below average. That bias stayed with me for the next eight years, until recently a couple of friends in the food business kept raving about it and piqued my curiosity.

These days, you always need to book a restaurant in advance, and I was surprised there was a Rs 500 reservation charge for this one. I am glad the reservation thing is booming here and, in a weird way, democratising the eating experience. If you know the right people, you could always get undue favours, so this at least levels things out a bit.

The second we stepped in, I knew this is one of the best designed restaurants in the city. An ode to Art Deco with French elements, perfect lighting, perfect music. The place had already won me over before the food even showed up, which is more than I can say for most relationships. We were the first guests in, and the entire restaurant was filled within the next 30 minutes. No wonder they charge for reservations there.

We started with the cold mezze. Levantine hummus, the old classic, because that is still the best way to judge any Middle Eastern outlet. We also ordered Lahme, which came with minced meat and pine nuts, and baba ghanouj to mix up the palate. The hummus was smooth, the meat was well seasoned, and the Baba Ghanouj was perfectly smoky. It did not taste like it had been dragged through a tandoor, like some places do when they overdo the charcoal bit. Everything came with unlimited freshly baked pita bread and pickles. That pita bread has to be the best in the country, by a mile. To avoid another useless bias from creeping in, we ordered a Za'atar Manakeesh too. And just like that, the bias became an opinion.

For starters, we ordered Batata Harra. The entire table was disappointed at first, but a food influencer friend of mine had told me not to miss it. And boy, he was right. It was quite headbanging ;)

Then we went for Soujak, Armenian sausages. They were gamey and reminded me of Bosnian kebabs I had in Dubai Mall. The table was split on them, but in my opinion they were very unique and did not feel like any generic kebab or over-the-counter sausage. (Sorry no pic as I forgot)

For mains, we ordered Lala. I still do not know if that is a French or Lebanese word. All I know is, mat kar lala, mat kar. Maine toh kar diya. The dish had poached and grilled chicken over a citrus sauce, served on saj, that thin rumali roti type bread. The chicken was okay and felt a little dry, but the citrus sauce alone was worth the Rs 1,350.

We ended with Tahini and Date pudding with tahini ice cream on top. If Ali Baba ever said open sesame, I would like to think this is what would open. We also ordered an extra serving of the tahini ice cream. It reminded me of a similar ice cream I had in a small town in Iraq.

What stood out more than the food was the service. It was on point. Nobody was overselling anything or giving me unnecessary gyaan about where some ingredient came from, or which animal’s backside it had once passed through. It was old school service, and very prompt. A rare thing these days

Overall, the lesson is simple. Never judge a place by your Tinder date, especially one you met once, and then deprive yourself of eight years of great food and hospitality.

Back in 2018, I was on a date in Kala Ghoda and we passed by this very plush looking restaurant exterior with a tongue twister of a name. My then Tinder date told me she had recently been there and it was below average. That bias stayed with me for the next eight years, until recently a couple of friends in the food business kept raving about it and piqued my curiosity.

These days, you always need to book a restaurant in advance, and I was surprised there was a Rs 500 reservation charge for this one. I am glad the reservation thing is booming here and, in a weird way, democratising the eating experience. If you know the right people, you could always get undue favours, so this at least levels things out a bit.

The second we stepped in, I knew this is one of the best designed restaurants in the city. An ode to Art Deco with French elements, perfect lighting, perfect music. The place had already won me over before the food even showed up, which is more than I can say for most relationships. We were the first guests in, and the entire restaurant was filled within the next 30 minutes. No wonder they charge for reservations there.

We started with the cold mezze. Levantine hummus, the old classic, because that is still the best way to judge any Middle Eastern outlet. We also ordered Lahme, which came with minced meat and pine nuts, and baba ghanouj to mix up the palate. The hummus was smooth, the meat was well seasoned, and the Baba Ghanouj was perfectly smoky. It did not taste like it had been dragged through a tandoor, like some places do when they overdo the charcoal bit. Everything came with unlimited freshly baked pita bread and pickles. That pita bread has to be the best in the country, by a mile. To avoid another useless bias from creeping in, we ordered a Za'atar Manakeesh too. And just like that, the bias became an opinion.

For starters, we ordered Batata Harra. The entire table was disappointed at first, but a food influencer friend of mine had told me not to miss it. And boy, he was right. It was quite headbanging ;)

Then we went for Soujak, Armenian sausages. They were gamey and reminded me of Bosnian kebabs I had in Dubai Mall. The table was split on them, but in my opinion they were very unique and did not feel like any generic kebab or over-the-counter sausage. (Sorry no pic as I forgot)

For mains, we ordered Lala. I still do not know if that is a French or Lebanese word. All I know is, mat kar lala, mat kar. Maine toh kar diya. The dish had poached and grilled chicken over a citrus sauce, served on saj, that thin rumali roti type bread. The chicken was okay and felt a little dry, but the citrus sauce alone was worth the Rs 1,350.

We ended with Tahini and Date pudding with tahini ice cream on top. If Ali Baba ever said open sesame, I would like to think this is what would open. We also ordered an extra serving of the tahini ice cream. It reminded me of a similar ice cream I had in a small town in Iraq.

What stood out more than the food was the service. It was on point. Nobody was overselling anything or giving me unnecessary gyaan about where some ingredient came from, or which animal’s backside it had once passed through. It was old school service, and very prompt. A rare thing these days

Overall, the lesson is simple. Never judge a place by your Tinder date, especially one you met once, and then deprive yourself of eight years of great food and hospitality.

Deli comes from the German word *Delikatessen*, which roughly means delicious things to eat or delicacies. In contemporary culture, a deli is often just a convenience store that also serves hot and cold sandwiches or ready to eat food. In Mumbai, you can add deli to your name and charge a few extra hundred rupees. But if we are being honest, the real deli experience in this city is still our Catholic bakeries. Here's the detailed post about it

At Andy’s, the first thing you notice when you walk in is a few breads on display for sale. True deli test passed. Chef Aniruddha, or Andy, is around throughout the meal, suggesting dishes, serving food, and actually talking about food. In the past couple of years, the food scene has slowly moved away from the old invisible owner model, where the person running the place would only count profits or complain about losses. What started in Goa after covid is now finally becoming more common in Mumbai too, this more owner-driven restaurant experience.

Andy asked what we wanted, then casually dismissed half his own menu like he knew better. Finally, a man who is not trying to sell you the entire restaurant. We went with his recommendations, though I was still fixed on trying a cubano sandwich because of a recent ruined experience at Bombay Brioche.

He asked us to try one of the tacos, so we went with the lamb birria. That was the best thing on the table through the entire dinner. The lamb was succulent and they gave a generous five portions of it. I was expecting three, which is usually what happens. The gravy on the side tasted like a very well made nihari. If they start serving that nihari every day, Chinese & Grill would be in trouble.

He also sent us ham, bacon and cheese croquettas. They were nice, but nothing spectacular.

Next we ordered the breads, as one should at a deli. It was not the perfect cubano (it's called fake cubano for a reason), but it was definitely tasty, and the roasted pork was delicious. The tahina dressed grilled lamb patty was also very good, tender lamb, subtle tahina sauce, and the best part was that it did not hide the flavour of the minced lamb the way too many heavy sauces do. But the best part of both dishes was the bread. Chef Andy is definitely winning the deli part.

We then moved to the grill section. We ordered the much recommended BBQ gochujang pork ribs and the braised pork belly that was not even on the menu. The pork ribs fell off the bone. It was delicious, not too saucy, and came with an equally flavourful corn on the cob. The sauce was also very good. I hope Andy gives the ribs a few different sauces, because those ribs are clearly polyamorous and one flavour profile is just not enough for them. The braised pork belly was nice too, but not as strong as the ribs. There was a little too much happening on that plate. A meat and a sauce would have been enough.

The best part about Andy’s is the price point. It is very value for money, and the protein to pocket ratio is excellent. Chef Andy’s presence adds a lot to the personal feel of the place. The deli and the grill both work for me.

They say Versova is the new Bandra, and Andy’s deli is definitely helping that stereotype.

Note: I couldn't click pictures for the lamb burger and pork belly, as there were hungry stomachs on the table. They gobbled it up, before I had a chance.

Deli comes from the German word *Delikatessen*, which roughly means delicious things to eat or delicacies. In contemporary culture, a deli is often just a convenience store that also serves hot and cold sandwiches or ready to eat food. In Mumbai, you can add deli to your name and charge a few extra hundred rupees. But if we are being honest, the real deli experience in this city is still our Catholic bakeries. Here's the detailed post about it

At Andy’s, the first thing you notice when you walk in is a few breads on display for sale. True deli test passed. Chef Aniruddha, or Andy, is around throughout the meal, suggesting dishes, serving food, and actually talking about food. In the past couple of years, the food scene has slowly moved away from the old invisible owner model, where the person running the place would only count profits or complain about losses. What started in Goa after covid is now finally becoming more common in Mumbai too, this more owner-driven restaurant experience.

Andy asked what we wanted, then casually dismissed half his own menu like he knew better. Finally, a man who is not trying to sell you the entire restaurant. We went with his recommendations, though I was still fixed on trying a cubano sandwich because of a recent ruined experience at Bombay Brioche.

He asked us to try one of the tacos, so we went with the lamb birria. That was the best thing on the table through the entire dinner. The lamb was succulent and they gave a generous five portions of it. I was expecting three, which is usually what happens. The gravy on the side tasted like a very well made nihari. If they start serving that nihari every day, Chinese & Grill would be in trouble.

He also sent us ham, bacon and cheese croquettas. They were nice, but nothing spectacular.

Next we ordered the breads, as one should at a deli. It was not the perfect cubano (it's called fake cubano for a reason), but it was definitely tasty, and the roasted pork was delicious. The tahina dressed grilled lamb patty was also very good, tender lamb, subtle tahina sauce, and the best part was that it did not hide the flavour of the minced lamb the way too many heavy sauces do. But the best part of both dishes was the bread. Chef Andy is definitely winning the deli part.

We then moved to the grill section. We ordered the much recommended BBQ gochujang pork ribs and the braised pork belly that was not even on the menu. The pork ribs fell off the bone. It was delicious, not too saucy, and came with an equally flavourful corn on the cob. The sauce was also very good. I hope Andy gives the ribs a few different sauces, because those ribs are clearly polyamorous and one flavour profile is just not enough for them. The braised pork belly was nice too, but not as strong as the ribs. There was a little too much happening on that plate. A meat and a sauce would have been enough.

The best part about Andy’s is the price point. It is very value for money, and the protein to pocket ratio is excellent. Chef Andy’s presence adds a lot to the personal feel of the place. The deli and the grill both work for me.

They say Versova is the new Bandra, and Andy’s deli is definitely helping that stereotype.

Note: I couldn't click pictures for the lamb burger and pork belly, as there were hungry stomachs on the table. They gobbled it up, before I had a chance.