These last two years have seen a change in everything, for everyone, everywhere, be it professional, personal, emotional, or mental,” says chef Manish Mehrotra, who saw more than his fair share of tragedy (having lost his wife) over that period, but remains as warm, generous and patient as ever, and his food, which has helped ensure Indian Accent’s position as Delhi’s top premier dining destination is still sublime.
“I always say that people don’t come to Indian Accent just for the food,” says the chef modestly. “They come for the theatre of dining, the drama of our presentation, the warm courtesy of our staff, the surroundings... That’s not something you can ever package into a takeaway order.” Indeed, even as 5-star hotels and other premier restaurants have tried, tested and sometimes delivered their food over the course of the pandemic, Indian Accent has eschewed that step. “My food is meant to be presented and served to a guest in a particular way, which cannot be replicated in a delivery format.”
Another experience that cannot be replicated is the chance to see how your meal is prepared. At Indian Accent, guests are welcome to walk through the kitchens and meet the people cooking their food. “When they say how much they loved their meal, we ask if they’d like to meet who made it for them. It is something we encourage. We are confident of our hygiene and cleanliness standards, of course, and I want people to directly interact with the food and all the staff involved in the preparation and service,” says Mehrotra.
But along with the impeccable food, there is a surface tension to the calm. Indian Accent’s London outpost had to down its shutters due to prohibitive rents and seating restrictions. “In London, the space was too limited, and it was not viable to have as few as the mandated tables in a place as expensive as Mayfair. We might open somewhere else in London. The New York restaurant is doing really well; I need to go there as soon as I can, having not been able to visit for a year,” rues the chef.
In Delhi, while the resumption of and response to returning to dining in has been swift, the recovery rate remains to be seen. As Mehrotra explains, “We are doing okay with weekday lunches, dinners are usually above 90 per cent of the mandated seating allowance, and weekends are full. We have closed the first floor space except for private events, where again all norms are followed. But again, the thing is we are operating at 50 per cent capacity.”
The food, however, remains at 100 per cent. Each of Mehrotra’s dishes, so thoughtfully conceptualised and executed, may or may not remind you of things you have eaten before in some distant memory. In the Chilli Crab with Sago Pongal Rice and desiccated green beans, there is the sound of the waves lapping on the Konkan coast, the brief vision of lazily sailing down the backwaters, the scent of red chillies tempered with coconut milk, the softness of the freshest fish you ever tasted, and the flavour of a damn good chilli crab too, contrasting beautifully with that ephemeral kedgeree of sago and coconut milk. The Baked Sea Bass with its confit-like Amritsari Butter and fantastically garlicky grits immediately harkens you to every time you have read Amritsari Fish Tikka in restaurant menus, and the peculiar joy of hearing someone say it out loud.
And the sorbet, a mini cornetto filled with Chilli Peanut Soft Serve is redolent with the taste of peanut butter-jam, and the magical feeling of the first bite of every after-school ice cream ever. And, of course, there are perennials of the restaurant’s signature kulchas, which everyone and their F&B Manager rushed to copy, and the Meethi Achaari Pork Ribs, which no one has yet managed to copy. And the Daulat ki Chaat and the Doda Treacle Tart that patrons salivate for are still as amazing.
A beautiful mind
Each of Mehrotra’s dishes, so thoughtfully conceptualised and executed, may or may not remind you of things you have eaten before in some distant memory. For instance, the Baked Sea Bass with its confit-like Amritsari Butter and fantastically garlicky grits immediately harkens you to every time you have read Amritsari Fish Tikka in restaurant menus and the peculiar joy of hearing someone say it out loud