Far fom the madding crowd. Banyan Tree Cafe & Bakery, Fort, Mumbai

NOTE: Please read about my nightmarish second visit to Banyan Tree before deciding on going  there

Banyan tree. A mnemonic ingrained into the Indian ethos. Brings up visions of a solitary farmer eating a soul nourishing lunch of rotis, chillies and onions, the banyan tree protecting him from the searing sun. Images of village elders sitting under it, puffing on their hookahs, perplexed about what to do with the two lovers who have crossed the boundaries of caste. And visions of the little Pandavs and Kouravs sitting under a banyan tree listening to the sermons of Dronacharya. Giggling and pinching each other as little children do. While Eklavya stands in a distant corner lapping up the guru's words of wisdom.

Interestingly, Banyan Tree, the cafe at Fort, in the lane opposite Citibank doesn't milk this Indian motif. The cuisine isn't Indian. The decor is not Indian. Nor is the decor in keeping with the late 19th Century European Gothic of the buildings around it.

 
Banyan Tree in fact has a very modern European look to it. Lots of white, graphics, glass and clean designs. Reminded me a lot of a hotel called Leonardo that we stayed in at Zurich. Again a contrast to the old stone buildings of the banker's city.

Leonardo, Zurich

Banyan Tree is a modern island of solitude amidst the frenetic activity of South Mumbai. Calm, refreshing. Where you can sit undisturbed for hours. Except when you take photos as the watchman gets testy and the waiters ask if you own a restaurant. But if you aren't a manic food blogger then Banyan tree looks like the sort of place where you can while away time lost in your own thoughts. A smile slowly easing away crease lines. Creeping towards a much sought after salvation and self realisation. Moksha. As the lady in the table across us with a book and a cup of coffee seemed to have attained. Or you could catch up with an old friend buffeted from the grind for a while.Reminiscing about the good old times. Remembering fond ones who have left the city. Sharing plans and hopes for the future. And talking about new food experiences. About things that didn't matter. Words without purpose or an agenda. As fellow food lover and ex colleague,  S, and I did the other afternoon.

 

This was a place which offered you shelter and silence, respite from the routine. It rejuvenated you. Sent you back to the real world with a smile ... yes, that's pretty much a banyan tree in my book.

We skipped the mains and went for the starters. S ordered some sort of a salad while she waited for me. The lettuce tasted like lettuce does. A few shavings of feta were hunted down by me. She also tried a drink called New Zealander which she strongly recommended. It was a Kiwi- fruit pulp drink, nice and summery, just what I needed to get over the Mumbai sun.

We went for a competent mezze platter which was beautifully plated. It was a sight for sore eyes and tasted pretty good too. For once there was an adequate amount of pita bread. A problem in most other restaurants.

Next up were Quesiladas with chicken. I have never had this Mexican dish before. Don't even know how to pronounce it. So I don't have a yardstick to compare it with. The hair on the nape of my neck stood erect with the first bite. The chicken mince had a strong taste of garam masala. Fusion food? No way! I slowly got a grip on the dish. Realised that I was less likely to look like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman at the fancy dinner if I used a knife and fork. Everything squeezed out if you used your hands. Stand alone, the dish worked for me. I liked the way the meat, the cheese and the soft tortillas came together. S, who has eaten quesiladas at Taco Fresco before, felt that the filling should have been tighter, firmer, trimmer, held more strongly together with cheese. She felt that cheese at the Banyan Tree one was rather sparse.

Faced with two desserts that we couldn't choose between, we did what we always did. Order both.

I like my cheesecakes baked. S  is more broad-minded and doesn't discriminate between cheesecake genres. She was disappointed by the lack of blueberries or blueberry squash in the core filling of the cheesecake that she ordered. We left our cheesecake unfinished.

The chocolate cake that I ordered made up for it. One look at the post cheesecake crestfallen face of S and I didn't have the heart to not share it with her. "It could have been warmed a bit more", she said as she ate this with a joyous look. I washed down the cake with a Colombian coffee which was recommended by the staff when I asked for a strong coffee. It gave just the kick that one needed before heading back to the desk.

The pricing is apt for what's on offer. We spent about Rs 1200  (22 USD) odd. But it looked like the sort of place where you could order just a coffee or so and seek solitude. It was quite empty. You were unlikely to be disturbed and had to actually hunt out the waiters who left you alone.

Then again if you could sit surrounded by all the wonderful food and order just a coffee then you wouldn't be a Finely Chopped Knight would you?

SOS: Any idea why my vertical photos are coming horizontal on the blog? (I save them in a vertical mode in the comp)

Oui Oui Oui... The macarons of Le 15 Patisserie, Mumbai

For months I would look at the computer screen. Transfixed. Held in a spell by the amazing pictures from the Le 15 Patisserie pantry.

Their obsession with macaroons puzzled me. Memories of excessively sweets, chewy, coconut- laden pebbles, the macaroons of Irani Cafes and Camy Wafers haunted me. The bright colours of the macaroons of Le 15 Patisserie puzzled me. Reminded me of the plate of  cookies that I had pounced upon as a hungry bachelor at The Ramada, Juhu. It's close to thirteen years now but that disappointment is hard to forget.

I finally came across the Le Patisserie macarons last night. Dinner done, I left my reservations behind and firmly grasped a pink one. Bit into it. The macaron just collapsed in my mouth as a stream of chocolate sensuously swirled through my mouth. These macarons are the reason why food is occasionally called orgasmic.

The petite Puja Dhingra  (in the black jacket) explained to me that these were French Macaroons. The macaroons that I often hid from earlier were Italian.

Well, Puja, who runs Le 15 Patisserie is a Le Cordon Bleu  trained pastry chef after all.

We met at a dinner hosted by Rushina of A Perfect Bite for the launch of Yashbir Sharma's travelogue, 'The Food Trail of India'

Salt and pepper

There was something incredibly sweet, romantic and reassuring about the elderly couple at Candies today. They quietly munched into their deep fried samosas and spring rolls. Looking into the distance. Not a word was exchanged. And yet so much was said

Just discovered that Finely Chopped turns three next month

The house of sin. Pork Scrap Hakka Noodles feat bacon & sausages

The Christian cold storages of Bandra have a concept called scrap meat. This is essentially a mix of cuts of bacon, sausages and salami. Pork of course. I have used this to make pastas and noodles. I wanted to do the same when we had guests this weekend. Couldn't got hold of any scrap though. So I bought separate packets of sausages and bacon. The net result was pretty interesting. Sausages give you chunky bites of meat and make for a primordial food experience. Bacon however has a different role in my kitchen. I use it for flavouring dishes. In fact I often make a bacon Hakka noodles where I don't use any oil at all. Oil free? Yes. Fat free? Er, no. The fat of the bacon dissolves to form a very very wicked base to the dish. And makes for a heady flavour which should come with an A for Adults rating. This is the Monica Bellucci of taste and sensory experiences.

This weekend I decided to marry the two, the meatiness of sausage and the ethereal flavour of bacon. The result was quite satisfying. I normally cook Hakka for two. I made it for 4 for the first time on Saturday night. And then for six on Sunday afternoon. Demolished with apparent glee on both occasions

Here's the recipe (for 4):

Prep:

• Boil water in a pan, add 400 g noodles to the boiling. Keep prodding the noodles with a fork. Drain the water out the moment the noodles looses its stiffness. Run the noodles under cold water. This is your only hope for firm noodles
• 200 g finely chopped sausage, cut into rings
• 200 g bacon - tear out strips of rind with fat. Finely chop the rest

Cook:

• Heat two tablespoons of olive oil
• Add some chopped garlic, slivers of ginger
• Add the rinds of bacon, reduce the flame. Slowly stir. The fat will dissolve a bit and join the oil. This form the taste foundation of the dish
• Add a tablespoon each of dark soy sauce and chilly sauce to the oil. The oil will slowly take on the colour of the sauces
• Now add the sausages and the rest of the bacon bits. Stir till the skin of the meat become a bit crinkled. Always add the meat in the beginning as it takes time to cook. Plus adding it in the beginning ensures that the taste and flavour of meat spreads all through
• Now move the meat to a side of the pan. Add half the noodles at the base of the pan.
• Add a tablespoon of salt, half a teaspoon of ajino moto and a teaspoon of black pepper on the noodles. 
• Slowly shift the meat to the top of the noodles
• Place the rest of the noodles on top of the meat. This sandwich-like arrangement ensures that the flavours of the condiments, meats and sauces spread all through
• Toss the noodles till the colours of the meat and sauce have spread all through
• Add finely chopped veggies - juliennes of carrots, bell peppers, cabbage, sprouts, split green chillies
• Mix it through the noodles and the meat. The vegetables should be cooked to the point where they retain their crunch. Add a bit more of the sauces if the noodles look two pale
• Pour a tablespoon of vinegar and stir
• Top with a pre-fried beaten egg and serve

The following  pictures were taken by Jyotika Purwar of Follow My Recipe   while I cooked. A fantastic photographer. I wish i could have her around whenever I cook. She make stuff look so celestial