You might think that I’m a masochist for compulsively reviewing the most appalling, run down eateries. The answer’s no — my love for whips, leather, latex, and Bianca Beauchamp notwithstanding. We don’t consciously intend to put the ‘Bad’ in Bad Directions. That’s largely the fallout living in the satellite city of New Bombay. However, settling down in the quaint town of CBD Belapur is a conscious decision to escape the slums, pollution, and a complete state of anarchy that plagues Bombay. Since life is one cast iron bitch, every decision has some collateral damage piggybacking on it. In this case, it’s the abject lack of any decent restaurants.
Like Lemmings Marching Off A Cliff
Apparently, for every metre that you stray away from South Bombay, the general tolerance for shit increases at a geometric progression. Food quality hits rock bottom at the fringes and by the time you reach CBD, the restaurants have already started drilling further down. Despite my conscious efforts to avoid eating out over here, one can never tell when a hungry friend might drag you into a restaurant. That’s precisely how I tagged along to Centre Point, a very well known restaurant in this part of nowhere. CBD is tiny with a population density comparable to the matinee show of a Tusshar Kapoor flick. No matter how much I love it that way, the lack of patrons still increases the risk of being served something prehistoric. Fortunately, the steady flow of people in Centre Point is positively reassuring. Unfortunately, they also say that an individual might be intelligent, but the collective is like lemmings marching off a cliff.
Centre Point is a fairly large restaurant with AC and non-AC indoor seating along with a patio for those who like the company of mosquitoes. Ambience is average with no particular theme. It tries hard to live up to the expensive nature of the restaurant, but ultimately fails to infuse any class. You don’t see me complaining because unlike most restaurants here, Centre Point at least doesn’t resemble a second class train compartment. We preferred to eat in the AC section, which is marred by poor lighting. Like they say — what you can’t see, cannot hurt you. At least we hoped it didn’t.
One More Egg And I Swear I’ll Kill Someone
The menu sports Chinese as well as Punjabi cuisine, but their speciality lies with Mughlai delicacies. That’s just a politically correct way of saying that everything else sucks donkey’s balls. While their Chinese isn’t even worth a mention, the rest of the stuff seems to lack a common ingredient — taste. We started off with bland and unsatisfying Reshmi Kababs (Rs. 120) that uncannily had a thick layer of eggs. The egg obsession continued with Chicken Patiala (Rs. 100), which should’ve been more appropriately called just Patiala. I’m sure even forensics experts would have a hard time finding traces of chicken in it. The dish resembles a prop straight out of an Evil Dead movie with an omelette suspended in sickening white sauce poured on top of regular chicken gravy. It tastes just as awful as it looks. Only a few bites were enough for us to surrender our cutlery in defeat. Disgusted and hungry, we begged the waiter for anything without eggs. An evil smirk later, we were served with the most uninspiring Chicken Makhanwala. With a perfect illustration of Einstein’s Theory of Relativity, we were quite happy with a mediocre Makhanwala, just by the virtue of it being free of those cursed eggs.
The OCD (Omlette Compulsive Disorder) afflicted chefs at Centre Point don’t seem to be suckers for authenticity going by their culinary slaughter of well known dishes. The last time I’d gone there, we’d ordered Chicken Pahadi Kabab. Little did we know that they’d take the ‘pahad’ part too seriously with a whole fucking mountain made of foamed eggs. Either these guys have real horny chickens or they are mercilessly slaughtering taste at the altar of economics. Everything in the menu is priced on the higher side, with an average rate of 120-150 bucks. I wouldn’t mind that if the quantity was decent, but their dishes are barely enough to feed one person; even when you factor in the wanton inclusion of eggs. The two tiny slops of Makhanwala on our plates in the adjoining thumbnail will give you a fair idea of their parsimony.
Putting The ‘Wait’ Back In The Waiter
Their pathetic attempts to create a fine dining experience are apparent with a décor that tries hard to please, overly inflated prices, and waiters dressed for the part. It’s not surprising how the sorry conduct and training of the staff shows through their flimsy façade of sophistication. Dressing up Udipi guys in suits may look the part, but such cosmetic gimmicks amount to nothing without proper training. Waiters in fine dining restaurants are taught to tend to the customers without the need to call upon them — a mere glance is enough. In stark contrast, the waiters here would extend a similar level of hospitality only at gunpoint. We had to repeatedly implore three different people just to get our glasses filled — something that should’ve been done automatically and unobtrusively. Their terrible aim made us wonder about who they were really serving — us or the table. An utter lack etiquette is apparent in how they shamelessly serve a new dish on the same platter smeared with the previous meal (refer thumbnail). Then there was an incident where waiters had misbehaved with the customers and police had to be called in. That day saw the restaurant staff putting ‘hospital’ back in the hospitality business.
Spending almost 400 bucks on a mediocre meal for two isn’t satisfying in the least. Ending up with hands that look like you’ve returned from a Mehndi (not Daler, the other one) function and teeth stained blood red thanks to some cheap-ass food colouring (cancer anyone?) doesn’t help matters either. My dear friend Rizwan shows off his badly stained teeth after a helping of Chicken Makhanwala. Okay, you can’t see for shit with the awful image quality, but at least that looks funny. Don’t even touch Centre Point with a barge pole if you are allergic to eggs. In fact, avoid it like herpes if crappy food isn’t your style. If you find yourself dragged unwillingly by a friend, shoving the chef’s head in the commode activates a trap door in the loo ceiling, revealing a secret passage to escape through the ventilation shaft. I don’t know about you, but I preferred to leave the rest of the body back in the kitchen. Our secret… comprende?
The Verdict
Food: 1.5 (out of 5) Stars (I think I’ve contracted a bad case of egg phobia)
Value for Money: 2 (out of 5) Stars (Expensive and shitty)
Ambience: 2.5 (out of 5) Stars (Slightly upmarket, but devoid of any class)
Location: Near Municipal Corporation office, Sector 11, CBD Belapur
BD Rating: 2 (out of 5) Stars (Run Forrest, run!)
Better known as the Land of Tuitions, Vile Parle (East) railway station witnesses a sea of engineering and medical aspirants pouring out through its corridors and into their respective coaching classes, just like Allied soldiers dumped onto the Normandy beach. Gupta isn’t the only smart entrepreneur around. The guys at Bakes-n-Bites know that it makes good business sense catering to the ravenous students that have it just as worse, if not more, as the allied grunts lined up for slaughter on D-Day. This is a no nonsense bakery devoid of bullshit associated with the ones feigning exotica as an excuse for prices that are more inflated than their sponge cakes. Heck, these guys are no nonsense to the point of clarifying who bakes and who bites in the name itself.
The menu includes sandwiches, pastries, Frankies, burgers, croissants, puffs and almost anything that you will find at a regular bakery. Only much better and most importantly quite cheap for someone thriving on a weekly allowance. The Frankies, loaded with cheese and generous stuffing, are some of the best I have eaten so far. They are pretty wallet friendly too at a base price of Rs. 12. The best part of the menu is the crowd favourite rolls. From paneer, Schezwan, and chicken kebab to garlic cheese, Bakes-n-Bites stocks about 10-15 types of rolls. Every thing here is fresh and fortunately they can’t pull a Monginis, as most of the stuff is made right in front of your eyes.
Focussing on their target demographic of perpetually piss-poor students, the prices at Bakes-n-Bites are comparatively cheaper than other bakeries in the vicinity. There’s no compromise in food quality because what students lack in cash, they more than make it up in sheer numbers. The Economy of Scale ensures good food at throwaway prices. Pastries range from Rs. 15-25, while Frankies and burgers start from Rs. 12 and go on to a maximum of Rs. 40 a pop, depending on the stuffing. Rolls provide the best value for money with a size comparable to King Kong on Viagra. They have generous stuffing that’s good enough to satisfy Yokozuna’s appetite.
