The Quest

If you were to ask me if I am a foodie or a gourmet, I would undoubtedly go with the former. Not for me the epicurean taste of the gourmet who only believes in having the best, from the best place in town. (Cost inclusive). I enjoy food (as is evident from my physical disposition) and would love to try out whatever is new in the market. I keep track of all the latest restaurants and other eateries that open shop and at the first opportunity make it a point to patronize it. This is true whether it is the local Murugan Idli Shop or the ones in the very specialized genre like Benjarong or Cedars. For me to term a visit to a restaurant as being memorable, it needs to meet with most of the under mentioned criteria, (i) it goes without saying that the food should be good, (ii) the staff should be pleasing and the interior should be clean and should give a feeling of freshness; (iii) the company at the table should be to your choice and (iv) the meal should be value for the money spent. If I look back at the various dining experiences I have had, I can proudly say that 99.9% of the time, it has fitted the bill and thus been truly memorable.

With my husband’s penchant for Indian food, we have got ourselves into some tight spots when it came to Indian food outside the country. Like a fish to water, an Indian Restaurant name board draws him into the interiors and we have come out having hilarious experiences at times. Being a bigger foodie than me, (of spicy Indian cuisine) he has really left the waiters and the chefs in a quandary on more than one occasion. He expects a Saravana Bhavan style idli vada at an Indian Restaurant in Lucerne Switzerland, little realizing that the weather there does not allow for the batter to ferment. The fermentation of the batter is the secret to soft flower like Idlis. Food apart, the experiences at these eateries have always been very pleasant and we have come out wiser as to what we should order on our next visit to an Indian restaurant in a far off land.

Considering himself to be a veteran on tackling issues connected with food in Indian Restaurants abroad, he decided to take the whole brood, (me, my siblings and their spouses) to a said restaurant while on a trip to Italy. Little did he realize as to what was coming his way. He was forced to remain a mute participant and came out being a lot less of a veteran. Having enjoyed all the sights and sounds of the Eternal City of Rome, I could say that all of us were on a high. Imagine seeing something from the times of Julius Caesar and imagine kneeling on a step which is blessed with the blood of Christ. We had had so many memorable experiences on a single day and my husband thought he would end it on a high note with a visit to the Indian Restaurant. This restaurant was recommended by our friend who said that his friend was known very well to the owner who if I remember right was referred to as RR. It was also mentioned to us ladies that RR dealt with Italian Corals. Although there wasn’t complete consensus from the group, we still went ahead what with the corals giving an additional incentive.

Two taxis were flagged down and we braved the brazen Italian driving and almost heaved a sigh of relief on reaching the destination. The restaurant was a far cry from the local tea shops that we see in most parts of India. It was not air conditioned (July in Italy can be very stifling) and the only fan was mounted on the wall. Having seated ourselves, an old man in a lungi (checkered cloth worn around the waist like a sarong) and with a pronounced limp came to our table and laid out some plates and glasses. We enquired if the owner was available but it seemed to fall on deaf ears and he continued with his chores in a very very slow motion. After a wait of about 15 minutes, some bondas (batter covered potato balls) were placed on the table. Then after a long gap we were served poori and potato. Since no questions were asked and choices given, we assumed that the whole meal may be on the house. (We felt it must be the work of the elusive RR). If I remember right, I think the meal ended with a sweet made of semolina which we in the south call kesari. It is common for small way side eateries in India not to have a menu card. The bearer just reels out the names of the dishes available and the patron gets to choose. This joint in the heart of the developed world did not think anything about not giving a choice to its patrons. It was shocking as it was bizarre. As for the bill, well what can I say; it was a clean rip off. The taxi drive back to the hotel set us thinking about how we really were taken for a ride by someone whom we had never even seen. It dampened our moods and only a night cap in the room restored some of the earlier elation. Kumar I think felt defeated, and during the remaining days of THAT TRIP, there was no mention of another Indian Restaurant.

Both of us being foodies our quests are intertwined. We are always on the lookout for good food and most times concur on a specific address. However his leanings are still Indian and for him nothing can beat the feeling of having an Indian meal in the most exotic of places. As for me the cuisine is never an issue. I am looking forward to our forthcoming trip to Hong Kong and China. When I go to Landmark (the local book shop) to get a copy of Fodor’s (for what to see) you can be sure that there will be a copy of Michelin Red too (for where to eat). I hope that the Indian restaurants in China will only have Chinese name boards!!!! Cannot have another RR spoiling the quest.