Posted by Meenakshi

Recently, thanks to sundry Facebook posts, and choice Instagram pictures, I’ve been the envy of my friends. You see, this fantastic cook has entered my life (and I hope she never leaves!) cooking me lunches that vary from sambhar-chawal to green Thai chicken curry to roast chicken and mashed potatoes. It’s been excellent. My friends are now desperately trying to poach her (“we’ll share!” they say, innocently) and I’m equally desperately resisting any contact between her and them. But, my road to this cook, this genius cook, was a long one and the search for good household help is a common complaint at parties now.

Here are some services I tried that were useful:

1)     Yuni Net: This is like an expat listing service, where people mostly go to look for flat shares, sell their stuff when they’re leaving the country and advertise for their household help. Most maids/nannies/drivers who work for expats on a part-time basis, ask them to recommend other expat families they can work for. Not in a racist way—I think it’s just because they get paid more. Anyway, that’s where I found my cook and you probably could as well. It’s important to remember that these ladies like working in one particular area: South Ex to Green Park, for instance, so you should look for one based around you.  You’ll have to request membership, but it should take only a day to be confirmed on the group.

2)     Get Domestic Help: I didn’t go with this because it turned out to be a bit above my budget and meant for more of a family establishment. But I liked the premise: you can hire a cook, maid, nanny, eldery care person, driver or a couple to work together. All help is verified, and they make several calls to you to make sure they’re fitting someone exactly to your requirements. You can also choose how many years of experience and what language you’d like them to speak. (Choices are Hindi and Telugu.)

3)     The Maid’s Company: We’ve actually featured this nifty website before. All maids are trained and will come for however many hours you need. Only for Gurgaon residents, however, so that ruled me out.

4)     Domesteq: Similar to Get Domestic Help, Domesteq places trained help in people’s homes. They’re run like an NGO, however, and aim for empowerment and fair wages for domestic workers. It requires rather a large application form to be filled and then “someone will get back to you.”

One of these should work out, if you’re willing to pay a little more than what you pay the person who currently goes from home to home in your building. Good training comes at a cost, but I find it’s totally worth it.

As we write this, we’re covered in sugar dust and sprinkles, and smell of sweet pastry dough, as we’re preparing for the third Dessert Box. 

For the uninitiated, bpb has started this new sweet deal, where we deliver a box of goodies, filled with our favourite desserts, to your doorstep. We had quite a delicious variety in our last one. Here’s what you missed:

1.) Sinful raspberry hibiscus and passionfruit chocolate tarts from Le15 Patisserie
Contact: 9820487727, This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

2.) Rich red velvet and Blueberry layered cake cups from Country Of Origin
Contact: 23642221, This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

3.) Melting hazelnut and cheesecake brownies, and chewy apricot and ginger cookies from Chocolate Is My Religion
Contact: 9819776342, This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

Here’s what one happy subscriber, Sudha Ganapathi, had to say about this box. 

Salivating? To sign up, here’s what you need to do:
1.) Call 9820228582/9867885533 to place or your order, or email This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it and say “Hey, I’m salivating and I want this pretty box. How do I get it?”
2.) Keep a cheque or cash amount of Rs 2,250 ready. We’ll get it picked up from you. Alternatively, you can do a wire transfer as well. All details will be sent via email.
3.) Wait patiently (a week or two tops, promise) till we announce the delivery dates via email.

If you’re a really sweet person who doesn’t want to keep all the goodies to themselves, here’s what you can do with the Box:
1.) Share it with your office colleagues. There’s no greater team building exercise than sharing dessert.
2.) Surprise your boss. Closer to appraisal day is a very good idea.
3.) Gift it to someone on their birthday or anniversary… or just because you think they’re awesome.
4.) The box makes a neat Diwali/Christmas present too!

Born and raised in Bombay, Vivek Kagzi currently lives in New York City, where his vegetarianism is considered only slightly less alien than his love for cricket. His column will appear regularly on bpb. You can also find him at http://lonelyveg.blogspot.com.

While I've gotten over being the only vegetarian at most dinner tables, I've still never enjoyed traveling alone. No doubt there are times when one needs to be by themselves, but I definitely do not feel that way when being away from home. Whether it is for work or pleasure, I try and avoid solo travel as much as I can. Besides walking around and having to visit places by yourself, the additional major side effect is that you end up needing to make dinner reservations for one. Not only does it make for a very quiet dinner, it usually puts a big crimp in the ability to try "everything on the menu". Notwithstanding, there will always be times when circumstances necessitate such travel and I found myself heading up to Ottawa on one such occasion a few weeks ago. Making the best of the situation, I scoped out Ottawa Magazine's 2012 list of top restaurants and landed upon Navarra.

Navarra occupies a small space in the popular Byward Market area of downtown Ottawa (that I later discovered was previously occupied by the Black Cat Bistro - my other very good meal of the trip). There is a small bar upfront and a line of tables in the main dining room whose orange and red hues make for a warm and inviting, albeit slightly cramped, atmosphere. The backyard, however, is the place to grab a table if available and I settled down to my meal on a very pleasant fall evening. 

The menu at Navarra describes itself as modern tapas and is full of some really interesting sounding dishes including Oaxacan Snacks, Salt Roasted Beet Salad and Mexican Bricklayer Dip. Given the aforementioned solitude, I limited myself to just two choices - the Classic Chimichurri Mushrooms and the Cast Iron Baked Corn Arepas. The dishes come out in the order that they are prepared, but the first thing on the table was my cocktail (a fantastic ginger gimlet that you can read more about at Books & Libations by my friend JE) and some amazing sweet potato bread with herbed butter. The bread itself was so creamy  and flavorful, I ended up requesting some more even though I am always wary of filling myself up with bread. 

And I should have been rightfully worried because the best dish of the night was still to come. The plate of Chimichurri Mushrooms was beautifully presented and almost didn't deserve to be disturbed, but the wafting aroma was extremely hard to ignore (even for one of the diners at a nearby table). Full of potatoes, onions, chiles and all sorts of assorted mushrooms, perfectly cooked and tossed in a flavorful chimichurri sauce and topped with shaved pecorino cheese, this dish was as hearty as they come. I even used the remaining sweet potato bread to wipe the remnants of the sauce and black corn paint left on the bowl. If you ever needed a vegetarian dish that can describe umami, this was it. I almost wished I had a never ending bowl of the stuff. 

The arepas clearly had a tough act to follow and took their time getting to the table. I suspect that was primarily due a substitute being prepared for the black bean sofrito that normally came with the dish -  the waitress had warned me that the sofrito was made with lard but offered to have the dish prepared without. And in the end, I think that was what left the dish feeling a little incomplete. The arepas themselves, even if a little dense and heavy, were relatively tasty and topped off nicely with a freshly made tomato salsa and thinly slice jalapenos that added a nice touch of heat. I did miss having some black bean spread to pair it with and the chef clearly had thought that through when conceiving the plate. The other main component of the dish though was a chunk of buffalo mozzarella that left me feeling like the cheese had lost its way and somehow found its way onto the plate. The attempt at fusing cuisines almost went a touch too far and some sprinkled cotija might have served the plate a lot better. To be fair, I still ended up finishing most of the plate and left myself absolutely no room for dessert (even though there was a Tahitian Vanilla Creme Brulee on there that was really calling to me).

Navarra is named after a small autonomous region in Northern Spain, the capital of which is Pamplona. I almost made it down there once for my friend CC's bachelor party (and yes, the running of the bulls). It was disappointing to have to cancel that trip, but I somehow was able to find a taste of the region up in Canada, even if it was just by myself. It's not one I will be forgetting anytime soon.

Navarra is on 93 Murray Street in Ottawa, Canada. Expensive. Veggie Friendly. Recommended.

www.navarrarestaurant.com

It was supposed to be a rainy weekend at The Machan, but no reservations and flaky friends (R, N, T – we’re looking at you) thwarted our plan. So we ended up at the Tree House Resort in Rajasthan instead, forty minutes out of Jaipur. Here are some chronicles from our trip.

The Tree House Resort: 

Offering “nests” of various sizes, along with a spa, a (slightly skeevy) pool, a pretty but tiny bar and a bunch of trees, the Tree House Resort is a fun way to “glamp”. We were surprised at how modern our rooms were, seeing that they were literally perched on the top of trees with branches skewering through them, and also enjoyed extensive Rajasthani lunch buffets. Stick to this instead of room service: it’s inefficient, and we have never tasted a worse club sandwich than the one they brought us. 

PS: bpb was invited to visit, and was hosted here for the weekend.

The Verandah/Polo Bar at Taj Rambagh Palace:

Jaipur’s most opulent hotel is a fun place to get drinks at, but only if you have deep pockets and a tolerance for really, really (really!) bad kathak dancers. We settled into the lightly populated Verandah with a seriously dangerous Bloodiest of Bloody Mary’s to watch a “traditional live dance performance”, which ended up being more amateurish than most wedding sangeets. They do however, have a sweet old palm reader and delish kidney-bean tarts on the menu.

1135 AD, Amber Fort:

Located inside the Amber/Amer Fort – “the best fort in Jaipur,” our driver assures – 1135 AD is an extremely pretty Rajasthani restaurant with super ambience and food to match, but know this: they do not have an alcohol license. Comfort yourself with a not-to-sweet chocolate milkshake and order a thaali. It’s known to induce food coma, but we guarantee you’ll die happy. PS: Call ahead to make sure they’re open and get a reservation.

Anokhi Café: 

A lot like the now defunct Moshe café at Fab India, the Anokhi Café is a fun (but over-hyped) place to grab lunch. Housed in an unremarkable mall, here you’ll find decent bagels, good banana-chocolate cake and lots of expats. 

Rasa:

Known for their yummy prints and fabrics, this fashion-interiors store can be a bit of a hit-or-miss. We’re not wild about their cuts, but we did find pretty white-and-blue bird print silk and a kurta for Ganpathy. Rasa stuff can be found in Mumbai too (Bombay Electric stocks it), but at more than double their Jaipur prices.

Bon voyage!

bpb plays sweet tooth fairy with the month-old dessert box, filled with six of our favorite treats from around Mumbai. These change monthly, based on factors like the weather,  traffic conditions and random events (passion fruit macaroons are for when we buy yet another sheer white shirt from Zara; orange juice cake is celebration for five hundred new followers on Twitter), but are always, always delish.

Learn more about how you can order yours by reading our FAQs here or calling 9820228582 and be sure to look through our photos below.

Inside the first bpb dessert box:

The cupcakes are:
1.) Blueberry cheesecake and tiramisu batter-filled cupcakes from Deliciae (www.deliciaecakes.com)
Contact: 9029023000, This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

2.) Jack Daniels and strawberry & champagne cupcakes from Lulu’s (cupcakesbylulus.in)
Contact: 9920075229

3.) Gooey zucchini, olives, cream cheese and pumpkin, pumpkin seed, sage savoury cupcakes from Tout de Suite (www.toutdesuite.in)
Contact: 9833047724

Done eating? Here are some ways in which we suggest you recycle your box:

Posted by Kanika

The Social Strangers of Bombay

How many times do you have to meet someone to go from stranger to acquaintance, acquaintance to pal? In a city where friendly margarita glasses are always rimmed with ‘how can we work together?’, and where a party in someone’s living room is really a tweet-up, tags like ‘strangers’, ‘friends’, ‘work friends’, ‘colleagues’, ‘fellow bloggers’ should come with a magic marker.

It’s like this: you know her dog’s name (from a previously posted tweet) so she can’t possibly be an acquaintance. In the non-digital world you’ve met only twice, so is she really a friend? As someone who’s met my fair share of non-slottables in the last few months – at bpb events, pop-up cocktail clubs and work meetings that morph into movies – I’ve decided to call them Social Strangers. Strangers are strange, the ones your mum asked you not to speak to. But social strangers are sparkly.

They’re a breed of Bombay people that combine the prose(aic) of ‘acquaintance’ and the poetry of ‘friend’. Social strangers are new and shiny, much like mirrors, distracting and sometimes seductive. Often, a reflection of how vain you were to think that it was all about you.

You meet them when you both have the time; you cancel apologetically but not heavy with commitment; and you text for work help without feeling the need to discuss it over a meal. And sometimes, you just want to hang out after work because you both hate chicken. And you want to discuss it over beef steaks. My friend says, they’re a much needed contrast to old friends, some of whom “no longer get you”. Social Strangers are like chimeras, ones you can spike with orange juice to make as real as you like. Just not too real.

Two nights ago, I was invited to a really fun single malt and cigar party at someone’s home, someone I met through work. In his living room, were some of my closest friends (read: bottles of Glen), but also people I’d met only a couple of times before through the office and/or non-work events. They’re super fun to hang out with, know an awful lot about alcohol and are always making what-next plans.

Maybe your plan to meet next, however, may never materialize, but the intent to meet is never fake. And that’s how you separate the Strangers from the Social Strangers. In your head.

The fun bit is that going out with non-slottables can end in many different ways. You might decide that they are in fact, just plain strange. Here’s the cool thing, though: one of them may just turn into a friend.

Despite brutal cutting and a search for replacements that stretches across far-flung Delhi neighborhoods, week after week, our editorial storyboard groans helplessly under the weight of places opening/closing/reinventing in Hauz Khas Village. And here's the thing - the stories coming out of HKV are amongst those most popular with our readers. 

Nevertheless, the bpb office has been struggling for a while now on how to report all the cool stuff springing up in the neighborhood without seeming repetitive or lazy - and we're finally on to something. Starting August 1 every Wednesday will be HKV-day, where our coverage will be dedicated to all things Hauz Khas. On other days, the Village will be left off our editorial list, leaving room for more diverse coverage. 

We're still working out the format for HKV day, so if you have any suggestions/comments/questions, please shoot us an email at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it . Your inputs would be much appreciated. 

Happy Monday!

-m 

By Kanika

So Bollywood superstar Rajesh Khanna passed away yesterday. I found out on Facebook, of course, and then confirmed it on Twitter. Naturally. The friend who posted it (almost as soon as the tragedy occurred), was pretty smug about breaking the news to her timeline and feed. Sad, but still smug.

It reminded me of a Washington Post story I read a few star funerals ago – unfortunately, there have been so many this year – that spoke about  “competitive grieving” in the online world, and how posting about a celebrity passing away was like “sadness mixed with the performance art of social media.”

From then on, I’ve been noticing it, this race to RIP. We all want to be the first to alert our friend lists or followers with an RIP status. If that hearse...er bus was missed, then the frantic finding of the best online obituary ensues, maybe a literary quote, the coolest video footage and for those of us who work well under pressure, an original thought that’s fittingly sad but also beautiful. The next day, this is obviously followed up by an appropriate long read. It's about who grieves  best, it seems.

As someone who does her fair bit of online mourning, I tried to think about why I do it. The Post story above explains it as "BIRG (basking in reflected glory), the impulse to share in or take credit for the triumphs - or tragedies - of loved ones, and in this case, celebrities.

My most recent RIP was for author Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s writing, a career that’s now officially ended by dementia. My update read: “Nothing can be sadder than this. Not even the end of a holiday.” (I’d just returned from Turkey that morning). Comments varied from sighs to posting of favourite Marquez quotes, and then ‘liking’ of those favourite Marquez quotes. Was the status dramatic? Yes. Was it also how I really felt at the time? Yes.

I suppose it is a little about online one-upmanship, but it’s also about knowing that there are other people in the virtual world who have the same idols as you, who share your favourite verse and know a little trivia about it that you didn’t. For all you know, these post-celebrity death rituals of Posting and Sharing, Commenting and Liking, and finally, Moving On to new celebrity/status, could be our five stages of grief in the virtual world. Just harmless coping mechanisms. 

So I’ll end this now, the way it all began - RIP Rajesh Khanna.

Posted by Kanika

Remember Samson? The dictator at the door, the keeper of Bombay weekends, the man whose number we all added to our newly acquired cell phones, with a secret smirk? He didn’t, unlike his biblical counterpart, have a full head of hair or insurmountable strength, but he did have the power to let you in to a marvelous Friday night.

Samson was the manager at Fire n Ice, a nightclub that was one of the first inhabitants of High Street Phoenix. I think of Samson now, because of the sudden Fire n Ice resurrection on Facebook – co-founders Vishal Shetty and Ketan Kadam recently created an official group –  which in case you wondering, is where all those old photographs are coming from. They’re coming at us like techni-coloured ghosts from the past, back to haunt us. Most ghosts they say, revisit because they have unfinished business. The return of Fire N Ice, I can only interpret in three ways.

One, it’s back to mock the current state of Bombay’s wilting nightlife, one that features raids and rude cops and the sudden need for liquor permits with passport size photos. Fire n Ice was our Studio 54. Okay, so Andy Warhol wasn’t doing interesting things in the back (or was he?), but it was still the shiniest part of our teenage lives. The glamorous lines, the gleaming granite stage, DJ Steve, cover charge coupons, the first condom vending machine in the boys’ bathroom, famous faces and party feet. It was where we danced like mad (remember dancing?) and if we were good, Skazi would come visit. And bring cookies. On weekends, Fire n Ice stayed open until 6 am, sometimes even 8, giving Sunday’s sun a good look at what Saturday night was up to. No one hid. We were up all night and no one cared – not the cops, not the ALMs, not someone who thought that bars were bad. Because they weren’t. And they still aren’t.

The second reason for the ghosts’ return, and this could be stemming from some of my own guilt, could be to reconnect with friends who back then, we thought would always stick. Personally, it was a place where I made some of my best friends, where I celebrated my 18^th birthday and where we all went to a St Xavier’s prom, making it very clear that we only there to mock. Yes, we were rebellious back then.

Last and the least romantic of all reasons is that it could be a pre-cursor to an all new Fire n Ice that will soon open in the city. A PR-fuelled buzz generator to welcome a new club by its first founders, one with no Samson and no all-night deadlines. Is this true? There’s some rustle in the trees that says it could be. More on that soon.

I remember the first night I there. It was the cause of much excitement, the night I was officially allowed to party with my older sister and her friends (I was 16 then), a bunch of 19 year-olds who seemed to make up a cool psychedelic universe. One that Fire n Ice was a big part of. I can’t however, remember the last time I was there or the day before Fire n Ice shut down. And it’s probably just as well, because it would mean hearing the sound of a thousand hearts breaking, with no din of the disco to mask it.

Born and raised in Bombay, Vivek Kagzi currently lives in New York City, where his vegetarianism is considered only slightly less alien than his love for cricket. His column will appear regularly on bpb. You can also find him at http://lonelyveg.blogspot.com.

My childhood was very conflicted. My parents loved to travel and explore new places, and they loved taking us everywhere too. Before the ripe old age of 12, I had already been to Australia, Bangkok, Switzerland, Mauritius, London, Hong Kong (twice), Singapore (thrice) and even 2 different Disneylands (Paris and Orlando). And yet, wherever we went, we always ate Indian food. There was no exploration when it came to matters of the stomach. There was always an Indian restaurant waiting to be found in a city and somehow, we always found it. If it hadn't been for my uncle AK, I would probably have left Switzerland never knowing what fondue was. The one exception to the rule, however, seemed to be for Italian food. Pizza and pasta were somewhat tolerable to my dad, and we always looked forward to the respite it provided from the cuisine monotony, creating an everlasting bond with the food. Yet, it almost got to a point that when my food horizons were finally expanded, new Italian restaurants were one of the last few I wanted to try. Still, it is always hard for me to say no to a great bowl of pasta and luckily for it, Scarpetta has a few.

I had been to Scarpetta once before with TR, but it really caught my attention a couple of years ago when it announced, with much fanfare, the introduction of a vegetarian menu. Ever since, I have meaning to give it another try and took the opportunity when my friends, RM and JP, decided to visit from home. The lack of pizza caused a little skepticism at first, but on my assurances, they came along as we all headed down to the meatpacking district.

You immediately notice two parts to Scarpetta when you walk in - the bar area up front and the main dining room at the back. The bar is long and well manned, but there never seem to be any spots to grab a drink while waiting for your party to arrive. I suspect this has much to do with the full menu being served at the bar, resulting in that being the only space available for walk-ins. I appreciate that restaurants are trying to accommodate as many diners as they can, but I personally would much prefer if restaurants kept a couple of tables open for walk-ins and left the bar to its original purpose. I also feel for the few tables by the door, because the main dining room just adds a touch of class which is hard to replicate outside. Walking through the spectacular, floor to ceiling glass doors, you just feel like you are entering a world only a select few are meant to experience. The room itself is bright and plush, full of leather and dark wood and, save for the dimming of the lights during our meal, makes for a very pleasant setting.

On to the food then. The vegetarian menu has an ample selection of appetizers and main courses, and creative enough to venture away from the traditional pasta and risotto selections. The three of us debated a few selections, but ended up choosing the Cippolini Agrodolce and Creamy Polenta to start, followed by the Tagliatelle, Spaghetti and Rosemary-Braised Lentils. Service at Scarpetta is pleasant, quick and efficient and it wasn't very long before our food was being placed in front of us. The Cippolini Agrodolce was overall a little disappointing - the agrodolce was altogether too sweet and the onions were just drowning in the sauce. The pine nuts and goat cheese tried to provide some balance, but it was very difficult to cut through the overpowering sweetness. The polenta, however, was all I remembered it to be from my first visit and more. The polenta itself is rich and creamy, but what really makes the dish stand out is the fricassee of truffled mushrooms that gets spooned all over. The scent of the truffle just wafts all over your palate and is in complete harmony with the rest of the dish, making for one enjoyable bite after the next.

The main courses came out shortly thereafter and did not disappoint either. The tagliatelle came with vegetables and a truffle zabaglione poured over it. It was a very nice pasta dish, and although a little on the creamy side, it was well balanced by the lightness of the vegetables. RM and JP didn't care much for the rosemary lentils, given their marked similarity to Indian "dal", but I thought they were very good and full of flavor - although the concentrated tomatoes didn't enhance the dish the way I had hoped. The star of the evening, though, and one of Scarpetta's signature dishes, was the spaghetti. It's as simple a dish as it gets - spaghetti with tomato and basil - but it is in the simplicity that the genius lies. Sometimes, you really don't need much more than that and it takes a confident chef to realize that and put it on the menu. No gimmicks, just plain old, well cooked and sauced spaghetti. A delicious ending to a very good meal.

My mother Loves spaghetti - yes, with a capital L - and I've caught some of her bug. The years have gone by, my travels have now become almost centered around food, and yet, the love for that perfect plate of pasta remains. There was a time I moved away to other, more "complex" forms of pasta, but I've rediscovered my fondness for spaghetti these days. Joel Robuchon's atelier in London had something to do with that, as did the restaurant at my hotel in Ravello - my two favorite pasta plates of all time. Time to add a third

Scarpetta is in New York's Meatpacking District, at 355 W 14th Street. Expensive. Very Veggie Friendly. Recommended.

http://www.scottconant.com/restaurants/scarpetta/new-york