My Indigo Heartbreak

November 14, 2010 § 9 Comments

(Updated 15/11 at 1101 am)
Dear Rahul and Malini Akerkar,
I must start off by saying that I often refer to myself as an Indigo Slut, and even that does not do justice. I have eaten many a meal at Indigo Deli, Colaba, and Indigo Cafe, and I have relished every one of them. They have given me the most priceless foodgasms ever. The plating, the service, the entire experience have always been magical. Always. My then-boyfriend took me to a lavish dinner to the Indigo Restaurant, and I still dream about those scallops and that gnocchi. And the Chocolate Fondant and the Jalepeno Ice Cream? Heaven.
When you guys opened up the Indigo Deli at Palladium, I was quite excited, because I had just moved to mid-town, and though it meant going through the rush that was High Street Phoenix, the crisp pizzas and poetic souffles made it all worth it. In the meanwhile, you guys were facing a lot of flak, with reviews being less-than-awestruck and even making it to the “Mumbai’s most overrated restaurants” list. But I held firm, and we even chose it for the first venue of our date night, because my Husband and I spent many memorable meals of our Courtship at the Indigo franchise. Two weeks ago, we enjoyed a fabulous meal at Indigo Deli, Palladium, with warm and friendly service, and I tried to blank out the slightly dried out Rawas and the uncomfortable seating and wallow in the Indigo love. A few days later, I tucked into the Philly Cheese Steak at Apollo Bunder. Words fail me.

I digress. Now, nothing’s better than a ladies night out, especially with two friends who are too overworked to socialize and one who spends most of her year in Paris. We wanted to do something classy in midtown, so someone suggested Indigo Deli at the Palladium. And why should I object?

Here’s what went wrong, in chronological order:

1. We, a group of three ladies, are seated all right, at about 7pm, and are provided menus. For food. No drinks menu. And this happened every time we asked for the menus later – even when we asked for the drinks menu, we were given the food menu. Don’t make me burn my bra on you darlings, but seriously, why must you?

2. A friend has her heart set on the “assorted bread basket”, which is not the complimentary bread basket you (usually) have placed on the table almost immediately after being seated, it is the slightly upmarket bread assortment that is available perhaps at your other outlets. Perhaps my friend did not realize that you did not serve it here, nevertheless, your steward took the order sans protest. Half an hour later, when we were wondering where the bread was, we were informed of this astonishing revelation.

3. Till then of course, we were hungry, because apparently groups of women who sit down and demand drink menus at Indigo Deli are statistically shown to eat nothing else. No? Well that’s interesting, because our cutlery was hastily picked up, our napkins removed, and we weren’t even served the complimentary bread. Your drinks are about 500 bucks a head and I’m sorry to say, watered down miserably. But that’s beside the point. The point is, you need to get more cutlery, because your obviously running short if your staff is rushing to clear what they think is excess cutlery at the slightest provocation.

3A. [Addendum] I really don’t understand why serving notable drinking water, which, besides being polite, is a statutory compulsion, is such a big deal. Granted, we don’t pay for it, but hey, it’s not caviar. We don’t even want the constant filling of glasses that’s the hallmark of every wannabe fine dine restaurant. We just want a refill when we ask for it. OK? OK.

4. After much efforts to attract attention, we ordered our main course, which was not up to the standard of Colaba or Andheri. The plating was ordinary, and despite there being a “choice of potato” the steward assumed our choice to be “mashed”. Thankfully, our orders for the meat and fish to be “medium” was adhered to.

5. It’s not nice to keep asking patrons to order dessert when they haven’t even finished their drinks and you haven’t even cleared the plates. We’re spending around 2,000 per head here. You need to upgrade the Udupi undercurrents. Am surprised they didn’t put the bill on the table.

6.   Yes, standards have fallen. Mostly, and this is a shock, of the desserts. The Crème brûlée is ordinary, the lemon pie was flinch inducing, and baked yoghurt quite awful, and you need to take the S’more Pie OFF the menu. Like NOW. And we saw the guy behind the counter pick up cake slices with his bare hands. It’s an open kitchen, remember?

7. And the bill goof up. We were billed for a “special dessert” we didn’t even have. Again. Why must you? It’s a table of FOUR, goddamn it.

Akerkars, and this is from one GSB to another – this is just not happening. I understand the challenges of staffing and talent in the industry – but really, quantity over quality? We’re all willing to travel the distance for good food, especially that Philly Cheese Steak.

In the meanwhile, we might have to go on a break. And this time, it’s not me. It’s you.


§ 9 Responses to My Indigo Heartbreak

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