The Rose-tinted View Of The Irani Café

Serving up dollops of nostalgia isn’t enough to make up for deteriorating food and appalling service.

- Arnesh Ghose

Like everybody who went to college in South Mumbai, I speak very affectionately of Kyani’s, Sassanian and B. Merwan’s, legendary Irani cafes the lot of them. The food was always cheap and wholesome, they had the Coffee House vibe that college students craved (this was before CCD and Starbucks wiped out the last dregs of Communism and became the new watering holes – this is obviously the Calcutta boy in me talking) and the spaces were friendly and had a personality of their own. They were unassuming, didn’t try to fit in, exuded an old world charm and held on to a slice of the city that was fast disappearing. You came back for the friendly old Parsi uncle, the sweet chai and most importantly, the food.

Kyani’s Chicken Cheese Bhurji with Maska Pav was the stuff orgasms were made of (I have personally been asked to moan at a lower volume on three occasions by the wait staff). I have dragged friends from Borivali and Thane to Kyani’s, promising to change their lives forever. The Chicken Cheese Bhurji used to be a cheesy-buttery-creamy mash of chicken, eggs, onions and tomatoes, pulped to perfection with butter and generous helpings of cheese and subtle pinches of spices and seasoning. It was divine. The Chicken Cutlets were fantastic, too. Have the Lagan nu Custard and the freshly baked muffins, I would tell my companions. Sassanian used to serve excellent Farchas and Croquettes and Merwan’s always ruled the Mawa Cake market. There was Britannia too, but that Berry Pulao was straight up weird – I don’t care if all of you gasp in unison right now, I am going to say it: berries and mutton don’t make a great combination – and it’s expensive. I was never a fan. Also, I am from Calcutta. We have Anglophilic old men talking about their love for the British royal family by the bucketful there.