India’s Finest Restaurants
WESTERN INDIA
AHMEDABAD 114
THE GREEN HOUSE
YI JING
BENGALURU 120
BOTECO
CAJSA
DAKSHIN
KARAVALLI
LUPA
NORTH RASOI BY CHEF PILLAI
RESTAURANT CHEF PILLAI
WABI SABI
GOA 64
3 PALMS
CAFÉ LA DI DA
CASANONI
CAVATINA
FIREBACK
HELICONIA
HOSA
ISABELLA’S TAPAS BAR
JSAN
KEBABS & KURRIES
MAKUTSU
TEMPERO
WHITE PLATE BY CHEF JASON
MUMBAI 8
BOMBAY CANTEEN
BURMA BURMA
CELINI
EKAA
EVE
GOLDEN DRAGON
KOKO
LA LOCA MARIA
LA PANTHERA
MASQUE
MIZU IZAKAYA
O PEDRO
PAPA’S
PING’S CAFÉ ORIENT
QUE SERA SERA
TANGO TAMARI
TAT
THE DIMSUM ROOM
THE TABLE
THE TANJORE TIFFIN ROOM
TOAST PASTS BAR
VETRO & ENOTECA
WASABI BY MORIMOTO
ZIYA
PUNE 200
MALAKA SPICE
SAWANTWADI 204
SAWANTWADI PALACE HOTEL
CENTRAL & EASTERN INDIA
BHOPAL 140
HOUSE OF MING
MACHAN
KOLKATA 190
6 BALLYGUNGE PLACE
OTTIMO CUCINA ITALINA
SIENNA
SOUTH INDIA
HYDERABAD 168
CELESTE
JAMUN
CHENNAI 146
ANISE
AVARTANA
CHINA XO
PAN ASIAN
SOUTHERN SPICE
KOCHI 186
MEEN BY CHEF PILLAI
NORTH INDIA
GURUGRAM 158
COMORIN
THAI PAVILION
ZANOTTA
ZVATRA
JAIPUR 182
CINNAMON
PESHWARI
RAJ MAHAL
SUVARNA MAHAL
THE JOHRI
NEW CHANDIGARH 196
KAANAN
NEW DELHI 92
BAOSHUAN
BUKHARA
DHILLI
DUM PUKHT
INDIAN ACCENT
INJA
LOYA
MEGU
ORIENT EXPRESS
SAZ - AMERICAN BRASSERIE
UDAIPUR 208
BHAIRO
UDAIMAHAL
EXCELLENCE I CREATIVITY I CONSISTENCY
2025 gastronome’s guide
EXCELLENCE CREATIVITY CONSISTENCY
“Whether you’re a seasoned epicurean or a curious food enthusiast, this guide is your trusted companion for exploring exceptional restaurants.”
GASTRONOMES
“The magazine showcases premier dining experiences, highlighting the finest chefs and their extraordinary culinary creations.”
“Your roadmap to the best restaurants and unparalleled dining experiences.”
Text © 2025 Gastronome’s Guide
Published by: FAD Publishing New York 14850, U.S.A. www.thegastronomesguide.com
Copyright © Gastronome’s Guide 2025
FAD Publishig has asserted its right under the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission in writing from the copyright owner.
Artist: Divya Balivada
Title: Sculpting Fissures
Size: 25cm x 21cm
Medium: Acrylic on paper
I
EXPLORES VULNERABILITY WITHIN SELF, BECOMING THE FOUNDATION FOR GROWTH, HEALING, AND RENEWAL.
DIVYA BALIVADA
SCULPTING FISSURE
GASTRONOME’S GUIDE: A MAP TO INDIA’S FOOD SOUL
Looking for a map to India’s food soul? The Gastronome’s Guide has it covered—a hefty, heartfelt love letter exploring everything from unassuming, local gems to refined dining rooms where the wine list alone could outlast your mortgage. It’s built on grand principles of Outstanding Excellence, Culinary Creativity, and Consistency, but that shouldn’t intimidate anyone. This guide comes from people who rather eat than pontificate—not just critics wielding fancy forks.
It’s not a rating system, not a parade of opinions, awards for culinary standards, or insider dining accolades. Instead, the Gastronome’s Guide reflects the outstanding excellence of chefs and restaurants while serving as a reference point for diners eager to embark on a savoury journey—bursting with flavours or whispering sweet deliciousness.
The authors offer a flashlight to uncover the best bites across India’s wild culinary landscape. Here’s the twist: none of the review critics are known to chefs or restaurateurs. As anonymous explorers, they dive into the culinary landscapes of India, spotlighting both casual and fine dining experiences with impartial precision. The creators are two food lovers who’ve spent their lives immersed in the culinary world, earning multiple awards for their efforts. One is a food and travel writer and award-winning cookbook author who has shared insights across magazine pages, TV screens, and radio waves. As the Travel Editor for Jetset Magazine, they focused on food, exploring flavours from bustling markets to high-end kitchens. The other began in hospitality in the early
‘90s, launching magazines that celebrate great eats worldwide. They’ve authored 22 culinary books (print and eBooks), receiving the 2019 Independent Publishers Award, multiple Gourmand Cookbook Awards, and the 2021 Cookbook Publisher of the Year title. Known as the “chef whisperer,” published and co-authored the first-ever eBook Home Comforts with The World’s 50 Best Restaurants & Bars, and their latest book on creativity now enriches LBC’s Superior Cuisine students via the school’s learning platform.
What sets the Gastronome’s Guide apart is its no-nonsense approach? The authors avoid paid promotions and hidden agendas, offering honest picks from those who recognize a damn good meal when it hits the table. They explore every corner of India, from chaotic city streets to quiet villages, highlighting spots that pulse with the country’s culinary heartbeat. Each entry goes beyond a name and address—it’s a story of flavour, tradition, or a chef doing something wild and fresh.
It’s not just a list—it’s a journey through the tastes and tales that define Indian cuisine. Whether someone is a local seeking a new haunt or a traveller diving into India’s food culture, it serves as a ticket to unforgettable meals. It’s straightforward, impartial, and the real deal. A solid, honest compass for chasing India’s true food heart, whether one craves a biryani that slaps or a dessert that whispers. Trust it. It’s for the eaters.
A HEARTFELT GUIDE TO INDIA’S CULINARY SOUL, BUILT BY DINERS FOR DINERS
The Gastronome’s Guide app is a platform celebrating restaurants that excel in flavor, technique, and creativity. It embodies Outstanding Excellence, Culinary Creativity, and Consistency, offering a space to rate, review, and add eateries—from gritty hole-in-the-wall gems to upscale spots with napkins pricier than your shoes. More than an app, it’s a heartfelt guide to India’s culinary soul, leading food lovers through its vibrant, sprawling landscape and highlighting flavors that range from bold to subtle.
No paid promotions or agendas here—just honest, anonymous reviews and ratings from explorers scouring India’s states and cities. Each entry captures a restaurant’s essence—its taste, tradition, or daring twist—making it a storytelling journey, not just a list. Since its launch, it’s become a go-to for locals and travelers chasing India’s food heart, whether it’s a punchy biryani or a dessert that lingers. Straightforward and impartial, it’s your trusty compass, built by diners for diners.
AN IMMERSIVE JOURNEY INTO THE MINDS AND KITCHENS OF CULINARY TRAILBLAZERS
GASTRONOMES unveils a digital companion to our guide, delving deep into the artistry of a select group of chefs featured within, spotlighting India’s culinary trailblazers. This isn’t about ratings—it’s an immersive journey into the minds and kitchens of those redefining the nation’s food scene with bold flavors, innovative techniques, and relentless passion.
Discover chefs like the Mumbai coastal maestro, crafting seafood narratives with spices that echo tradition, or the Delhi visionary blending rustic heritage with audacious twists in fine-dining elegance. From hidden hole-in-the-wall virtuosos to upscale pioneers, each profile reveals their inspirations—perhaps a grandmother’s cherished recipe, a fleeting market memory, or a global revelation—and the profound, soul-stirring impact of their craft. It offers an intimate window into India’s culinary heartbeat, meticulously crafted for explorers yearning to savor the rich, untold stories behind every plate.
ANSAB KHAN
Burma Burma, born in 2014 from the grit of Mumbai pals Ankit Gupta and Chirag Chhajer, is a love-soaked dive into Burma’s unsung food soul. This award-winning spot—part restaurant, part tea room—cracks open a culture most folks barely know, with a menu that’s a riot of tradition and swagger. Ansab Khan, the flavor whisperer, keeps it real, jetting off to Burma for research trips, weaving old-school recipes into plates that pop with modern flair. He’s the heartbeat of this place.
Think small plates that snap—street food vibes with a twist—salads that wake you up, mains that stick to your ribs, and desserts that feel like a hug. Artisanal ice creams and bubble teas slide in cool and easy, all tuned to nudge the Indian palate just right. It’s migrant mashups and home-cooked Burmese classics, polished but never fussy, thanks to generations-old recipes the team’s hunted down and tweaked.
The space hums with Burmese accents—curated, not kitschy—making every bite feel like a border hop. Khan’s crew doesn’t just cook; they resurrect a cuisine, blending the past with a sharp, contemporary edge. Burma Burma’s a rare bird— vibrant, soulful, and damn delicious. Sit down. Let it take you somewhere.
ALESSIO BANCHERO
Alessio Banchero hails from Genoa, Italy, and now he’s the maestro behind Celini, the Italian heartbeat of Grand Hyatt Mumbai. With two decades of kitchen grit and a suitcase full of Genoese secrets, he’s hell-bent on sharing his hometown’s soul—think briny breezes and pestostained fingers. He cut his teeth at standalone joints like Zeffirino and Ristorante Il Veliero Genova, then crossed the Atlantic to play sous chef at Zeffirino in Vegas’ Venetian, where the stakes—and steaks— ran high.
In 2009, Hyatt scooped him up; he wielded spatulas as Italian chef de cuisine at Hyatt Regency Mumbai. Then came Marriott, followed by detours to Thailand and Mauritius, where he last ran the show at Le Meridien Ile Maurice. Now, at Celini, Alessio’s back, slinging authentic Italian like it’s a birthright. The wood-fired pizzas crackle with history, the pastas and risottos are rich enough to make you sigh, and they’ve been the restaurant’s spine since day one. Pair them with a wine list— reds and whites, Italian to the core, plus a global stash—that’s as deep as a nonna’s recipe book. It’s not just a meal; it’s a trip to Genoa, plated and poured, with Alessio conducting the whole damn orchestra.
Down a quiet lane in Azad Maidan, Mumbai, Ekaa hums with a kind of alchemy that’d make even the most jaded eater sit up. Niyati Rao, the 28-yearold chef steering this ship alongside cofounder Sagar Neve, isn’t here to play by the book—she’s rewriting it. Ekaa means “one” or “matchless,” and that’s no brag, just truth. This isn’t Indian food as you know it; it’s a tribute to ingredients, wherever they’re from, mashed up with a wild streak of invention. Rao’s cooked at Noma, sweated it out at Wasabi, and now she’s turning Mumbai’s dining scene inside out.
The menu’s a free-for-all—cuisine’s just a suggestion here. A knob of foraged Odisha mushroom might share the plate with Madurai sea urchin, or a slick of soy-cilantro “caviar” might crown a chicken parfait that’s equal parts comfort and chaos. Rao heroes the seasons, the stories, the chefs’ own wanderings—every dish is a yarn spun from the earth. You’ll find no stiff tablecloths; the kitchen’s open, the vibe loose—chat up the cooks, sniff the ferment jars, feel the pulse. Three experiential menus shift with the winds, promising something raw, real, and unrepeatable. Ekaa’s not just a meal—it’s a journey. Bring your appetite. Leave your expectations.
Tucked into Mumbai’s bustle, Eve isn’t just a spot to eat—it’s a full-on sensory jolt. This place doesn’t mess around: it’s sleek, it’s loud, it’s got a pulse that hums through the curated playlists and the glow of ambient lights. The vibe’s sharp yet warm, thanks to a crew that knows how to make you feel like the only one in the room. Sanket, the kitchen’s ringleader, is the real deal—a flavor wrangler with a knack for tossing curveballs. He’s not here to coddle you with the usual; he’s slinging a tribute to ingredients, pulling from everywhere and nowhere, with dishes that hit like a fever dream and cocktails that could start a riot.
The menu’s a tightrope act—global swagger meets local grit. You might get a plate that’s half avant-garde, half nostalgia, all delicious. The decor’s no slouch either—chic enough for a date, rowdy enough for a party, every detail dialed in. Eve’s not chasing trends; it’s carving its own lane, a dining joint that’s as much about the scene as the food. Whether you’re there to whisper sweet nothings or toast a big win, it delivers. Walk in hungry. Walk out buzzing.
YUN JUN JUN
Since 1973, Golden Dragon has been slinging Sichuan fire at The Taj Mahal Palace, Mumbai, staking its claim as India’s first real Chinese joint with a swagger that’s lasted over 50 years. They flew in Frankie Lam and his Hong Kong Red Pepper crew to kick things off, unleashing a spicy reckoning that hit Indian palates like a thunderclap. It wasn’t just food—it was a wake-up call, a benchmark for what Chinese could be here. You step in, and it’s a ride from Sichuan’s gut-punch heat to Cantonese whispers, a duality that’s pure poetry.
Master Chef Yun Jun Jun runs the kitchen now, a flavor anarchist who doesn’t just cook—he detonates. His “Song of the Dragon” is a must, and the Beggars Chicken, carved tableside, is a dare you can’t refuse. Jun Jun’s trick is weaving local Indian threads into Chinese classics—think Szechuan pepper and black bean sparring with Mumbai’s own pulse. It’s not fusion for the sake of it; it’s a conversation, bold yet grounded. The menu’s a tightrope of heritage and hustle, every dish a crafted jolt. Golden Dragon’s no relic—it’s alive, kicking, a half-century legend still schooling the game. Eat here. Taste the roar.
Koko struts into India’s dining scene like it owns the place, a sleek beast of Cantonese and Japanese swagger tucked into a shell of modern luxe. It’s not just a restaurant—it’s a mood, pairing bold Asian flavors with a bar that could seduce a monk. The vibe’s polished but not prissy, a tightrope walk between high-end and “come as you are.”
Eric Sifu’s the ringleader, a Malaysian maestro who’s logged years in kitchens that’d break lesser souls. He’s got a fire for the craft, and it shows— every plate’s a lovechild of tradition and a wild streak, plated like it’s headed for a gallery. The menu’s a sprawl of versatility—think Cantonese depth crashing into Japanese precision, all rooted in quality that hits you square in the jaw. A dumpling might whisper old Guangzhou secrets; a sushi bite could cut like a Tokyo blade. Sifu’s not here to mess around—he’s telling stories with soy and spice, and you’re the lucky sap eating the pages.
It’s luxury, sure, but the kind that doesn’t make you whisper. Koko’s loud, proud, and damn delicious—a place where Asia’s heavyweights slug it out on your plate. Go. Savor it. You’ll taste the obsession.
MANUEL OLVEIRA
La Loca Maria sits pretty in Bandra’s Pali Hill, a Mumbai nook where the air hums with life. It started small, a neighborhood haunt, but now? It’s a culinary beacon, born in 2019 when Spanish chef Manuel Olveira named it “the crazy Maria” after his mom—the spark who set his kitchen dreams ablaze. With his wife Pratima (call her Mickee) by his side, they’ve turned this 75-seater into a love letter to modern Spanish cooking, paired with a bar that pours temptation.
Walk in, and it’s Toledo reborn—beige, green, and brown walls whispering of Spain’s old towns, a deco chandelier dripping light over murals that dance with flamenco and bullfights. The kitchen’s the star, open and pulsing, framed so every table gets a peek at the action. Manuel’s food is nononsense magic—simple, loud flavours that let the ingredients strut. His paella’s a steamy hymn, the BFF Carpaccio a razor-thin revelation, and those cocas? Flatbreads with attitude. Croquettes ooze truffle and ham, gambas al ajillo sizzle with garlic, and the tacos? Pure cult bait. Then there’s the deconstructed La Loca tiramisu—messy, glorious, a reason to come back.
It’s not just a meal. It’s a raucous, soulful fiesta. Dive in. You’ll see why Mumbai’s hooked.
by Manuel Olveira
LA LOCA MARIA
GAMBAS AL AJILLO
INGREDIENTS
500g large shrimp (peeled and deveined)
6 garlic cloves (thinly sliced)
½ cup of extra virgin olive oil
1 tsp red pepper flakes (adjust to taste)
Salt for seasoning
Garnish
10g fresh parsley (chopped)
For serving
1 lemon, cut into wedges
Crusty bread
Method
Prepare the shrimp - If using frozen shrimp, ensure they are fully thawed and pat them dry with paper towels. This helps achieve a nice sear. Heat the olive oil in a large skillet; heat the olive oil over medium heat. Make sure it’s hot and not smoking.
Add the sliced garlic to the skillet. Sauté for about 1-2 minutes or until the garlic is fragrant and just beginning to turn golden. Be careful not to burn the garlic, as it can become bitter.
Add the red pepper flakes and cook for an additional 30 seconds to infuse the oil with heat.
Increase the heat to medium-high and add the shrimp to the skillet and season with salt. Cook for about 2 to 3 minutes on each side, or until the shrimp turn pink and opaque.
Garnish and Serve
Remove the skillet from the heat and sprinkle the chopped parsley over the shrimp. Toss to combine.
Serve the Gambas al Ajillo hot, straight from the skillet, with lemon wedges on the side for squeezing over the top. It pairs wonderfully with crusty bread for dipping in the flavourful oil.
Tips
For the best flavour, use fresh shrimp if possible.
If you prefer a milder garlic flavour, you can let the garlic sit in the olive oil for 30 minutes before cooking.
Feel free to add a splash of sherry or white wine after adding the shrimp for an extra depth of flavour.
MANUEL OLVEIRA
La Panthera, the latest from Manuel Olveira and Mickee Tuljapurkar—those La Loca Maria trailblazers—feels like you’ve stumbled into a European manor where the wallpaper’s peeling just right. Their jaunts across the Old World left them drunk on art, architecture, and flavours, and this place is the hangover: a mash-up of nostalgia and swagger that laughs at borders. Spanish? French? Italian? Greek? Nah, it’s all of it, none of it—a memory-soaked fever dream.
Manuel’s menu is a tightrope walk between classics and mischief. Cold tapas kick things off— Stracciatella with poached pear and olives, a flirty whisper; Tiradito de Hamachi with pineapple zing; Steak Tartare on crispy potato, truffle-kissed and cocky. The signature La Panthera Carpaccio? Thin-sliced BFF on filo, a crunchy little braggart. Hot tapas turn up the heat—Scamorza Arancini ooze, Charred Octopus flexes, Lobster Roll struts. Then there’s the wood-fired pizza, dough fermented 48 hours, puffed and chewy—Margherita’s a purist’s sigh, but the Frutti di Mare’s a salty sea romp.
Mains like Cacio e Pepe or Grilled Sea Bass land rich and true, while desserts—think Tiramisu reimagined or Basque Cheesecake—seal the deal. La Panthera’s a plush, vintage hug that doesn’t let go. You’ll leave stuffed, haunted, and plotting your return.
VARUN TOTLANI
Masque squats in an old Mumbai textile mill, a gritty relic turned temple of taste under Aditi Dugar’s steady hand. Chef Varun Totlani runs the show, dishing out 10-course tasting menus that feel like a high-wire act—tradition and invention tangled up, shifting with the seasons. They pull from their own farm, foraging hauls, and a web of local growers, chasing the pulse of India’s dirt since 2016. The Masque Lab, cracked open in 2020, is their madscientist lair, tweaking and teasing flavours into something new.
This isn’t your auntie’s curry house. It’s not about slapping a modern garnish on granny’s dal. Totlani and crew dig deep—reworking old ways, coaxing wild notes from forgotten roots, building bridges to far-off palates. Think Indian ingredients unshackled, less homogenized mush, more a loud, proud reimagining. A bitter gourd might tango with a technique from Tokyo; a foraged green could nod to Tuscany. It’s India, unbound, talking to the world.
Masque’s been carving its own path, stacking accolades like firewood, and it’s no fluke. Every plate’s a gamble that pays off—fierce, fresh, and a little feral. You don’t just eat here. You wrestle with it. And you’ll lose, deliciously. Book it. Go.
LAKHAN JETHANI
Mizu isn’t just a restaurant—it’s Lakhan Jethani’s heartbeat on a plate, a kid’s dream that grew claws and chopsticks. Picture a 12-year-old Lakhan, nose deep in spices, plotting a food empire with his buddy Vedant Malik. Fast-forward, and that pact’s alive in Mizu, a spot where Japanese cool gets a bear hug.
Lakhan’s no stranger to the grind—he schlepped to Tokyo, shadowing a mentor who taught him to wield soy like a maestro’s baton. Back home, he spun that into Mizu, a joint that’s less about sushi dogma and more about umami with a grin.
This guy’s a food punk with a music streak—dishes riff like jazz, blending fish and funk into something that lands like a warm slap. The menu’s a love letter: think miso that croons, tempura that crunches like a drum solo, all plated with a painter’s eye for Japanese grace.
Mizu’s not here to preach authenticity—it’s a vibe, a cozy den where seaweed and sake feel like family. Lakhan’s chasing more than flavor; he’s after that gut-punch of home, where every bite’s a note in his edible symphony. This is food that doesn’t just feed you—it sings you to sleep.
HUSSAIN SHAHZAD
The days are shrinking, the traffic’s a beast, and your soul’s still lounging by some emerald Goan shore. O Pedro’s here to yank it back, a BandraKurla hideout where frangipani trees guard a slice of Goa’s wild heart, courtesy of Hunger Inc. This isn’t the postcard Goa of coconut curries and sunburned clichés—it’s the real deal, a mash-up of Portuguese swagger and Saraswat soul, retooled for Mumbai’s grind.
The kitchen’s got a rhythm: half-plates of prawn balchão that sting with vinegar and love, full slabs of pork vindaloo that bite back, all sized for solo nibbles or late-night feasts with your crew. Vegetarians get no short shrift—think recheadostuffed okra or a coconutty xacuti that’s pure comfort with a twist.
The stone oven spits out Goan sourdough poee, crusty and warm, slathered with butters—chorizo that’s smoky and rude, or herb-garlic that whispers sweet nothings. Seafood’s a daily gamble—pick your catch, watch it sizzle.
O Pedro’s got the elegance of a Goan auntie’s table but the edge of a bar you’d stumble into at 2 a.m. It’s not just food—it’s a teleport, a salty, spicy hug from the coast, smack in the city’s chaos.
SMOKED PUMPKIN LAUNJI
by Hussain Shahzad THE BOMBAY CANTEEN
INGREDIENTS
1kg peeled pumpkin (cubed)
3 garlic cloves garlic (peeled)
¼ tsp turmeric powder
150 ml mustard oil
2 tbsp sugar (depends on the sweetness of the pumpkin)
2 tbsp lime juie
Salt for seasoning
10g coal
1 tbsp of oil to smoke
Method
Marinate the cubed pumpkin with salt, garlic, turmeric and mustard oil.
Spread the marinated pumpkin on an oven tray. Cook at 160C, set the timer for 30 minutes.
Blend with a few crushed ice cubes till super smooth and creamy like a hummus.
Chill and season with salt, sugar and lime juice.
Heat the coal till it is red and heat one tablespoon of oil.
Place the coal over the puréed pumpkin in a small steel dish and cover with foil.
Pour the hot oil and cover with a lid smoke for 2 minutes. Too much smoke ruins the flavour of the pumpkin.
Transfer to a serving dish and reserve.
CHARRED PONKH
200g ponkh
Oil
Salt for seasoning
Method
Pressure cook the ponkh till soft in some water.
Strain and reserve.
Char the ponkh over embers or char it in a pan over high flame stirring continuously. Season with salt and reserve.
Serving
Smoked pumpkin hummus
Charred ponkh
Chilli oil / chilli crisp
Pickled onions
Lime juice
Scoop a generous dollop of the creamy pumpkin hummus in a bowl.
Swirl the spoon in the centre to create a well.
Toss the charred ponkh in the chilli oil, use as much or as little as you desire. Add the lime juice.
Add the mixed ponkh to the well and pour the excess oil to add flavour.
Top it with pickled onions to give it that crunch and acidity. Serve with khakra or lavash or just plain potato chips.
HUSSAIN SHAHZAD
Papa’s sneaks into Mumbai’s Bandra like a punk kid crashing a fancy party, turning Indian fine dining into a cozy, rule-breaking romp. This 12-seater, dreamed up by Hussain Shahzad, feels like a 1980s Bandra flat—less starch, more soul— where the vibe’s a dinner at your wild cousin’s place. Hussain’s the ringleader, a next-gen chef with a glint in his eye, tipping his hat to his late mentor Floyd Cardoz while flipping the script on India’s culinary playbook.
No stiff tuxedos here—just a tasting menu that lands like a mixtape of his life, each dish a story with a side of sass. Think a Goan curry that’s gone rogue with a French twist, or a kebab that’s half memory, half mischief. He’s not chasing gimmicks; he’s digging into India’s sprawling flavors—Parsi, Punjabi, Tamil—and bending them with a global swagger.
The food’s a tightrope walk: refined but rowdy, comforting yet sharp. You’ll hear Hussain’s voice in every bite, spinning yarns about a spice or a street stall that sparked it. Papa’s isn’t just eating—it’s a joyride through India’s backroads, where the old rules get torched and the table’s set for anyone bold enough to dig in.
TILAK BIK
Ping’s Café Orient Bombay is like stumbling into an Asian night market that’s crashed a Mumbai alley—phone booth buzzing, streetlights flickering, and a racket of wok flames licking the air. This isn’t some hushed temple of gastronomy; it’s a loud, grinning playground where Tilak Bik, the maestro since 2016, throws down flavors that punch and soothe in equal measure.
He started as a dim sum whisperer at the Delhi outpost, folding dough into tiny miracles, then grabbed the wok and never looked back. Now chef de cuisine across Ping’s sprawl—Goa, Gurugram, Mumbai—he’s the guy who keeps the chaos tasty.
The menu’s a lovechild of old-school Asia and new tricks: plump baos that steam with porky secrets, sushi that’s fresh as a slap, wok-fried noodles spitting chili and soy. Dim sum’s the star—little parcels of shrimp or chicken that burst like flavor grenades.
Tilak’s got a hawk’s eye for balance, sourcing crisp greens and fat prawns to keep it real, no shortcuts. The room hums with market energy, but the food’s the pulse—bold, sloppy with soul, and built to share. Ping’s isn’t fancy; it’s a street stall with a roof, where Asia’s noisy heart beats loud and delicious.
SANTOSH
Que Sera Sera isn’t just an Italian joint—it’s the kind of place where Santosh Keshav Magdum cooks like he’s got your happiness on speed dial. This guy’s the head chef, a grin-wielding maestro who’s all about piling comfort onto your plate. Tucked into a nook that feels like your coolest neighbor’s living room, this spot hums with a vibe that’s half hug, half hangout.
Breakfast lands heavy—think eggs that ooze just right, or a pizza crust blistered crisp, begging for a swipe of olive oil. By lunch, pastas twist with sauces that cling like gossip—rich, unshy, and a little messy. Come evening, the community bar kicks in, slinging cocktails that taste like they’ve got stories to tell, alongside coffees that wake you up and brews that settle you down.
Magdum’s magic isn’t fancy tricks; it’s the real deal—flavors that nod to Italy’s backroads, hearty enough to make you loosen your belt, but light on pretension. The high teas? Pure charm, a nod to afternoons that stretch lazy and long.
Que Sera Sera’s not chasing Michelin stars—it’s after your heart, a cozy bolt-hole where the food’s as warm as the welcome, and every bite feels like Santosh saying, “Sit, eat, smile.”
MITESH RANGRAS
Tango Tamari in Mumbai is where Japanese precision does a steamy dance with Peruvian punch, and it’s a hell of a show. Sarabjit and Rishan Keer dreamed it up, with Mitesh Rangras consulting in the kitchen, and the result is Nikkei cuisine—a lovechild of Japanese immigrants and Peru’s wild flavors—that’s snagged global props for its gutsy swagger. The name’s a tip of the hat: tamari soy meets tango’s heat.
Mitesh, a culinary nomad, brings a resume fat with Indian, Pan-Asian, and Thai chops, plus a knack for mentoring food nerds and propping up startups. He’s the guy who’s shaped spots like Lemon Leaf and Aoi, now whispering genius into this 2,000-square-foot playground.
Indoors, it’s bistro-cozy—warm lights, a mezzanine that’s pure date-night bait—while outside, Mumbai’s breeze kisses your ceviche. The menu’s a thrill ride: think sushi spiked with aji amarillo, or tiradito that hums with soy and lime, each bite a tightrope of cool and fire.
This isn’t just fusion for fusion’s sake—it’s a deliberate, delicious mash-up that lands like a first kiss. Tango Tamari’s no stiff dining room; it’s a party where the plates flirt and the vibe sticks with you.
HITESH ASHOK KANOJIA
Dining at TAT is like hopping a boat along India’s coast, with a quick detour to Sri Lanka, and Hitesh Ashok Kanojia’s your captain. This isn’t just food— it’s a full-on sensory wallop, spices grinding in the air, flavors popping like firecrackers.
Hitesh, a kitchen poet, kicked off at Orchid Hotel, then got schooled in Italian finesse at Mia Cucina— twirling fresh pasta, charring steaks, plating dishes that look like art. But at TAT, under mentor Sudhir Pa’s wing, he’s all about the nine coastal states’ greatest hits.
Think fish curry that sings of Kerala, or a crab masala with Goa’s salty swagger, each bite a postcard from the sea. The room’s a stunner— contemporary cool with panels of intricate art mapping the coast’s soul, paired with music that’s pure tidal chill.
Hitesh doesn’t just cook; he pours his heart out, chasing that spark that makes you grin mid-bite. It’s not fussy—fresh catches, bold spices, and a vibe that says “stay awhile.” TAT’s a love letter to the shoreline, a place where the table’s your raft and every dish pulls you deeper into the tide.
HUSSAIN SHAHZAD
The Bombay Canteen in Mumbai is India unchained—a sprawling, borderless romp through flavors that feel like home yet dodge every cliché. Hunkered in a reimagined old bungalow, its artdeco bones nod to the city’s swagger, flipping from laid-back lunch spot to after-hours haunt with ease. This isn’t just food; it’s a love letter to India’s wild, seasonal soul—dishes rooted deep but twisted with a wink. Think heirloom recipes, jolted awake with fresh produce and a Bombay grin.
Executive chef Hussain Shahzad, schooled by the late, great Floyd Cardoz, is the ringleader. He’s all about digging into ingredients—coaxing out their best with slick techniques and a dash of mischief. Tradition’s his playground: he’ll take a regional classic, toss in some modern grit, and plate it like a dare. The menu’s “India-inspired,” sure, but it’s Bombay’s heartbeat that thumps loudest—fun, familiar, fearless.
Shahzad’s trick? He doesn’t chase trends—he mines the past, mentors the next wave of cooks, and turns mistakes into magic. It’s produce-first cooking, quirky and sharp, built to spark smarter chefs down the line. You’ll taste the depth, the play, the roots. The Bombay Canteen isn’t a meal—it’s a messy, gorgeous slice of India, no borders needed. Dig in.
The Dimsum Room in Mumbai’s Kala Ghoda isn’t just a restaurant—it’s a time-warped jewel box where Hong Kong’s dim sum hustle crashes into a 100-year-old building’s bones. Mayank Bhatt’s All In Hospitality crew, with Chef Mrigank Singh and Malavika Pratap steering the stove, spins a tale of flavor, sound, and shadow.
You’ve got three stages: a dining room doubling as a hi-fi Listening Room, a speakeasy bar whispering secrets, and a zen garden terrace kissing the sky. It’s Hong Kong’s pulse—40-plus dim sums, from slippery mushroom cheung fun to xiao long baos that burst like tiny soups, scallop-beet dumplings slicked with spicy soy butter, tempeh twists for the veggie crowd.
Mains strut in—twice-cooked lamb chops with a charry bite, Sichuan eggplant snapping crisp, spicy potato noodles that hum with heat. Braised pork belly lands soft and sticky, egg and rice in tow.
Malavika calls dim sum a community hymn, and she’s right—every bite’s a story, traditional but tweaked, paired with cocktails that riff on the East. The old walls hum with music, the air thick with steam and spice. This isn’t dinner; it’s a sensory plunge, a Hong Kong-Mumbai mash-up that’s loud, lovely, and damn unforgettable.
WILL AGHAJANIAN
The Table in Mumbai’s Colaba isn’t some dusty relic—it’s a culinary jolt, kicked off by Jay Yousuf and Gauri Devidayal under their Food Matters banner, now reborn as The Table 2.0 with Will Aghajanian at the wheel. This guy’s a San Francisco transplant with French finesse and American guts, tossing Mumbai’s chaos into a blender with Cali cool.
The menu’s a freewheeling romp—small plates like crab cake toast or sobo salad that hit quick and bright, a trick they pioneered here in 2011 when everyone else was still plating curry by the bucket. Pastas get their own shrine—hand-rolled caserecci, pappardelle verde, a chicken-truffle cannelloni that’s pure velvet—and they’re not kidding around with 12 options.
Big plates swagger in: a cauliflower-cheddar pithivier that’s flaky sin, or a slow-cooked New Zealand lamb shank that falls apart like a rumor. Tiger prawns grill up with vadouvan and honey, shell-on and sassy; sea bass crudo chills on steel; a French onion soup burger gets stabbed with a knife for drama.ll’s overhaul keeps it simple but sharp, leaning on top-shelf seafood and meats, shifting weekly to keep you guessing. The Table’s no stiff suit—it’s comfort with a wink, a global mash-up that tastes like Mumbai’s future.
AJAY SAMTANI
Tanjore Tiffin Room is Kishore DF’s scrappy salute to Tamil home cooking, a joint that feels like your grandma’s kitchen got a cocktail shaker and a dream. This guy’s slung hits like Pot Pourri and Lemon Grass, but here it’s all about real-deal Tamil grub—secret recipes, no frills, just comfort that sticks.
Chef Ajay, with two decades of hustle from Hyatt to Novotel, runs the show, tweaking tradition till it hums. The samplers are the hook—little curry pots lined up like a flavor gauntlet, your server nudging you toward rice, dosa, appam, or parotta to match. It’s custom, chaotic, and damn fun.
Think mutton kuzhambu with a slow burn or a coconutty veg stew that’s pure hug. Kicked off in Versova in 2017, it spread to Khar, hit Goa in 2023, and now—February 2025—Nesco, Goregaon’s got the biggest one yet.
Ajay’s not coasting; he’s pushing boundaries, pulling from Tamil Nadu’s backyards with a global chef’s eye. Tanjore’s no fussy temple—it’s a loud, loving sprawl of home-style eats, cocktails that wink, and a vibe that says “stay awhile.” You’ll leave full, buzzed, and plotting your next tiffin fix.
DEVIKA MANJREKAR
Toast Pasta Bar in Mumbai’s buzzing Lower Parel isn’t some fussy Italian knockoff—it’s Devika Manjrekar’s sunny trattoria fantasy, a slice of comfort carved out of the city’s grind. A Dublin Cookery and Le Cordon Bleu grad, she’s slung her heart into handmade pasta and cocktails that pop, with a welcome as warm as a Nonna’s hug.
The space glows—sage green walls, gold winks, an open kitchen churning out magic—riffing on her favorite London haunts but skipping the pomp. It’s sleek, not showy, seating 50 with an outdoor perch where your pup or cat can sprawl too.
Devika’s menu is pure love: three-cheese ravioli, slick with brown butter and sage, melts like a secret; pappardelle with oxtail ragu, slowcooked to a husky purr, lands rich and tender. The tiramisu—Indian mascarpone, local coffee, homemade savoiardi—twists the classic into a creamy, caffeinated grin.
She’s all about fresh, local stuff, letting pasta strut its stuff without overthinking it. Toast isn’t stiff fine dining—it’s a cozy, delicious escape, a spot where the plates sing of Italy but feel like Mumbai’s pulse, and you’re half-tempted to bring your dog back for seconds.
ROHAN NIPPANI
Vetro at The Oberoi, Mumbai, is Italian with a glasssharp edge—its name means “glass,” and the place shines with that same clear, elegant gleam. Rohan Nippani’s the maestro here, a kitchen alchemist who tailors every course to your whims, turning dinner into a custom love letter. He’s not just cooking; he’s weaving classics—think pillowy gnocchi or a risotto that sighs—with a modern twist that feels like Italy’s future.
The menu splits two ways: a la carte for the picky, or a five-course Tradition in Evolution that dances with the best Italian loot—truffles, burrata, the works. Next door, Enoteca’s wine stash, old-world and new, pairs like a dream.
Rohan’s path started in his family’s kitchen, a small-town kid messing with pots till it clicked, then rocketed through Oberoi’s elite school and gigs at heavyweights—Amarvilas, Delhi, Mauritius, Mumbai’s Amadeo—rubbing elbows with Michelin stars. Now, he’s Vetro’s soul, his hands coaxing complexity from simplicity, every plate a nod to Italy’s sprawl.
The room’s sleek, transparent, a stage for his craft, and the food’s no less—rich, personal, a quiet flex of a guy who’s made South Mumbai his canvas. Vetro’s not just dinner; it’s Rohan’s art, uncorked and alive.
TAKAHIRO SHIGA
Let me tell you about Wasabi by Morimoto, tucked into Mumbai’s Taj Mahal Palace like a secret whispered in a marble hall. Masaharu Morimoto— the Iron Chef himself—runs this joint, and it’s less a restaurant than a dojo where fish meets flame. The man’s a legend, and his crew? They’ve schlepped to Japan, bowing at the altar of tradition, hauling back secrets so pure they’d make a sushi purist weep into their sake. Every five days, they fly in wasabi and other treasures from the motherland, because freshness isn’t a suggestion here—it’s gospel.
The Tatami room’s a tiny Zen bunker for eight, all low tables and hushed service, while the rest of the place glows in earthy greens and browns— like a forest floor after rain. The menu’s a living thing, bending to India’s whims with veg-friendly curveballs that still taste like Tokyo. Black cod miso flakes like a dream; toro tartare is a rich, fatty whisper; and the Chilean sea bass with yuzu kosho ponzu? It’s East-West alchemy on a plate.
Then there’s Takahiro Shiga, three decades deep in the game, slicing and searing at the live sushi bar. His Omakase is a high-wire act—seasonal, precise, a little wild. This isn’t just dinner. It’s a pilgrimage. Bring your appetite and your awe.
VINEET BHATIA
Ziya at The Oberoi, Mumbai, isn’t your uncle’s curry joint—it’s Vineet Bhatia’s playground, a Michelin-starred maestro who’s slung an MBE into the mix. “Splendour” is the name, and it delivers, with menus that zig between a la carte gems and a “Taste of Mumbai” tiffin that’s a slow, wild ride through the city’s veins.
Vineet’s a mad genius—reworking India’s classics with a sly grin, tossing coastal fish into spice storms, or turning street chaat into edible art. You’ve got two paths: Signature Evolved mains that twist tradition till it snaps—think kebabs with a swagger—or Ziya Classics, old-school recipes that hum with ghee and memory.
The view’s a killer—ocean sprawled out like a dare—while cocktails like the tart Kokum Tide or the herby Kothimbir Punch nod to Bombay’s salty soul. Vineet’s not just cooking; he’s rewriting Mumbai’s story, blending the grit of its streets with a polish that’s pure Oberoi magic.
Every plate’s a tightrope—familiar yet freaky, bold but balanced—and the drinks keep pace, riffing on local roots with a bartender’s wink. Ziya’s no nostalgia trip; it’s India now, loud and lovely, served with a view that’ll steal your breath.
SMOKED EGGPLANT & MILLET
by Nikhil Nagpal AVARTANA, ITC GRAND CHOLA
Eggplant also known as the king of vegetables and is an integral ingredient used in various forms in Southern India. In this dish the eggplant disguises in the form of a smoky, light and fluffy mousse which gets adorned by fresh mélange of foxtail millets dressed in tempered mustard, curry leaves & raw mango. Savoured with a cracker of barn yard millet and ponni rice.
INGREDIENTS
Millet
25g foxtail millet / 50g onions / 40g tomatoes / 25g raw mango / 5g coriander stems / 10g cucumber / 5ml lemon juice / 3g raisins / 6g salt / 10ml gingerly oil
Smoked Eggplant
1kg eggplant / 50ml refined oil / 6g mustard seeds / 6g urad dal / 10g ginger / 1g whole red chilli / 10g salt / 10g raw mango /1g curry leaves / 10ml lemon juice
Millet and Rice Cracker
15g ponni rice / 15g barnyard millet / 1g salt
Tempering
15ml refined oil / 2g curry leaves / 2g mustard seeds / 2g urad dal
Glazed Peanuts
10g roasted peanut / 5g tamarind / 5g jiggery / 2g red chilli powder / 1g salt
Method
Millet
Finely chop onions, tomatoes, raw mango, coriander stem and deseeded cucumber. Soak the raisins in water spiced with green chilli. Boil the millet and mix with the vegetables and raisins. Add salt, lemon juice and gingerly oil.
Smoked Eggplant
Roast the eggplant in a tandoor, de-skin, deseed and roughly chop. In a sauté pan heat oil add mustard seeds and allow them to crackle, then add urad dal, ginger juliennes, whole red chilli, raw mango and curry leaves, sauté for 30 seconds and mix in the chopped eggplant. Allow it to cool in a refrigerator for one hour and then blend in a mixer to achieve a smooth paste, season with salt and lemon juice. Fill in a syphon and charge with two nitrogen cartridges to aerate the eggplant mousse. Allow it to rest for one hour.
Millet and Rice Cracker
Wash and soak rice and millet for one hour, boil till it becomes mushy. Using a thermo mixer, blend it while it is hot to achieve a smooth paste. Immediately remove and spread it evenly on a Teflon sheet and dehydrate it for 10 hours at 75C. Once completely dried, rest it for 12 hours at room temperature, break them into irregular shapes and deep fry them.
Tempering
Heat oil in a sauté pan, add mustard and allow it to crackle. Add curry leaves and urad dal, sauté for 30 seconds.
Glazed Peanuts
Heat jiggery in a sauté pan till it melts, add and mix tamarind, chilli powder and salt. Remove from flame and mix in the peanuts till you achieve an even coating. Allow them to cool on a Teflon mat till they become crisp.
Assemble
Release the aerated eggplant from the syphon on to the serve ware and gently spoon the dressed fox tail millet in the centre. Drizzle one teaspoon of tempering on millets and eggplant, garnish with glazed peanuts. Enjoy with the millet and rice cracker.
Chef Hemant Oberoi is a titan of taste, a man who’s spent over 40 years bending spices and techniques to his will—first as Executive Chef at Mumbai’s Taj Mahal Palace, then as the Taj Group’s culinary overlord. Now, at 3 Palms, he’s slinging a wild mash-up of Indian fire, Mustasian finesse (think Asia’s unsung flavors), and global swagger. You’ll find ghee-kissed curries sidling up to gourmet burgers and artisan pizzas, each bite a tightrope walk of bold and subtle, crafted with a master’s precision.
Oberoi’s genius lies in his alchemy—marrying farflung methods with whatever’s fresh and local. It’s inventive, sure, but there’s a soulfulness that hooks you. This isn’t just food; it’s a passport stamped with decades of know-how. Back in Mumbai, he built empires—Zodiac Grill’s decadence, Wasabi’s sleek Japanese edge, the Masala Series’ spice hymns, Souk’s Middle Eastern whispers, Varq’s modern Indian flex, Blue Ginger’s quiet brilliance. His legacy? Plates that demand your attention.
Beyond 3 Palms, Oberoi’s got Martabaan at Abu Dhabi’s Emeritus Palace Hotel, where fine-dining Indian gets the red-carpet treatment—Gault & Millau crowned it a UAE top-50 gem, and it snagged a One-Torque Award. The man doesn’t just cook; he conjures worlds, one dish at a time. Dig in. You’ll see.
JENEVA TALWAR
LaDiDa, perched on the verandah of an old Portuguese bungalow in Sangolda, Goa, is a Euro-tinged daydream—cool blues and ochres hugging a curry leaf tree and oyster shell windows. Jeneva Talwar kicked it off in 2018, fresh from ITC Maurya, Select ED Fine Dining, and Khan Market’s Artful Baker. She’s a grad of Lyon’s Ecole Nationale Supérieure de Patisserie, mentored by Alain Ducasse, and cut her teeth with pastry legends at Patisserie David and Maison Pillet in France. This isn’t just a café—it’s her playground.
The menu’s French at its bones but spiked with Talwar’s wit: house-baked breads, a curry leaf chilli cheese sandwich that slaps, and a cheesy chicken curry brioche that’s pure mom vibes. Her patisserie flex shines—lemon tarts with a Gallic wink, chocolate hazelnut decadence, a mousse that’ll ruin you for lesser desserts, and a Levain-style cookie that’s all crunch. She’s got the restriction crowd covered too: gluten-free bread, vegan banana walnut cake, sugar-free almond loaf, and “The Baap”—a vegan, gluten-free, sugar-free beast.
LaDiDa’s coffee, sandwiches, and cakes—like the sea salt caramel chocolate stunner or the celeb-loved strawberries and cream—have Goa hooked. The lemon cloud cake? Pure luxury. Talwar’s built a gem—quirky, precise, and damn delicious. Stop in. You’ll stay awhile.
SAGAR CHANDRA
Casanoni—“grandmother’s house” in Italian—is a love song to those nonnas who knead the soul into every family meal, keeping Italy’s culture alive one bite at a time. This place pulls from the Riviera’s shimmer, the rugged Alps, and deep into Emilia Romagna, Veneto, and Calabria—regions that hum with tradition. The menu’s all about honest flavors, nothing fussy: dishes you’d find simmering in some weathered Italian kitchen, served straightup, no pretension.
It’s set in a heritage building, 80 years old and counting, with a two-story sprawl that feels like a hug. Upstairs, balcony seats peek out over Fontainhas’ kaleidoscope of multicultural shops—perfect for people-watching with a glass of something red. Inside, it’s sleek but cozy, with warm lighting and artisanal ceramics that nod to colonial ghosts, all wrapped in a modern glow.
Sagar Chandra, the maestro here, keeps it simple—fresh, vibrant, rooted in Italian ways. He’s got direct lines to Italy’s best: olive oil that sings, balsamic with a slow burn, Parmigiano-Reggiano and Pecorino Romano that crumble like treasure. Seafood, meats, and vegetables? Local, responsibly nabbed. It’s the kind of food that tastes like memory—grandma’s memory, maybe yours now, too. Casanoni doesn’t just feed you; it roots you.
AVINASH MARTINS
Back in 2002, Martins kicked off his culinary life with the Oberoi group, soaking up the craft at their Learning and Development Centre. India’s hospitality scene gave him roots, but the world called—cruise ships, airlines, then the heavy hitters: France’s finest kitchens and Napa Valley’s sundrenched haunts. He landed back in Goa, itchier than ever, and birthed Cavatina. For six years, he slung global dishes, but something shifted— he fell hard for Goa’s flavors, its culture, its pulse. Now, he’s on a mission: reimagining Goan cuisine, modern twists on old souls, built with local artisans from every corner of the state.
Martins doesn’t just cook—he weaves. Every dish has a tale, whether it’s a fisherman’s haul, a poder’s crusty loaf, or a stone carver’s grit. His own journey sneaks in, too—a chef’s life, scratched out in spice and smoke. Nothing hits the menu without earning its story. He calls it “Mindful Dining,” a slow-down-and-feel-it ethos: eating with intention, connecting to the food, its roots, its ripple. It’s not just about filling your belly—it’s about Goa’s heartbeat, the land’s well-being, and maybe your own. Cavatina’s a table set with purpose, and Martins is telling you to sit, taste, listen.
KAUSTUBH HALDIPUR
Perched along a lazy river in Siolim, Fireback sneaks up on you, hiding behind an old Portuguese bungalow like a secret worth spilling. This Thai joint from EHV International isn’t just a restaurant—it’s a scene, with a glass house spilling onto decks and a promenade that stares down the water. You can eat by a fish pond or riverside, the outdoor bar buzzing at the heart of it all, while St. Anthony’s Church looms in the distance like a postcard you didn’t mean to send. It’s named for the Siamese Fireback, Thailand’s flashy bird, and the kitchen leans hard into that fire-grilled soul.
David Thompson, the Aussie legend who’s been Thai-obsessed since ’86, runs the show as Culinary Director, while brand chef Kaustubh Haldipur—15 years deep in Asian game from spots like House of Ming—keeps the flames alive. Haldipur’s a wizard, twisting tradition with a modern squint, so you get dishes that feel like Bangkok street eats one bite, Goa’s riverside swagger the next. The menu’s a salute to Thai roots—think smoky, spicy, sharp—but it’s no museum piece; it’s alive, loud, unexpected. Fireback’s not just food—it’s a vibe, a riverside knockout. Dive in. Get singed.
ARTURO CASTRO
Nestled in a pocket of lush green, Heliconia isn’t just a restaurant—it’s a collision zone where Peruvian spice slams into Japanese precision, birthing the glorious beast that is Nikkei cuisine. Peruvian chef Arturo Castro Salazar, a wizard of Asian and modern twists, captains this ship, and he’s not here to play safe. He’s got the chops— years steeped in Nikkei and Japanese kitchens— and he’s unleashing a menu that’s as much a thrill ride as it is a meal.
Nikkei’s the game: Japan’s clean, delicate cuts meet Peru’s loud, fiery soul. Salazar grabs local fish from the coast, tropical fruits that burst like fireworks, and spins them into something that feels like home and nowhere all at once. Ceviche tangles with sushi, tiradito sidles up to nigiri, and tacos crash the grill party—every plate’s a passport stamp. Standouts like carretillero, tuna tataki, or the misoyaki hit hard, while avocado gunkan and daikon noodles sneak in with sly finesse. It’s not just fusion—it’s a manifesto, built on seasonal swagger and a reverence for both cultures. Heliconia’s no sleepy dining spot; it’s a flavor brawl in the best way. Sit down. Buckle up. Taste the clash.
HARISH RAO
Across from St. Anthony’s Church in Siolim, HOSA—Kannada for “new”—is a South Indian joint that doesn’t sit still. Part of EHV International, it’s a daytime charmer with Goan breezes and a nighttime spark that crackles, blending old-school roots with a modern kick. The setting’s a looker, but the food’s the real draw—Harish Rao, a 20year kitchen vet, is the guy twisting tradition into something you didn’t see coming.
Rao’s menu isn’t here to play nice with nostalgia— it’s a remix. Guntur crab fry lands with a punch, ghee-roasted jackfruit or goat sidles up to dosas and appams like they’ve got something to prove. Trumpet mushroom pongal and curry leaf-cured snapper? That’s Rao flexing, pulling from Dakshin and Avartana days, where he cooked for big shots and even mapped diets for India’s 2011 cricket squad. Here, he’s riffing on South India’s sprawl—spicy, intricate, alive. The drinks don’t slack either—wines, tiki classics, and cocktails with swagger keep the night humming. HOSA’s no museum piece; it’s a living, breathing tribute to the region’s flavors, torqued up and set loose. Walk in curious. Leave stuffed and stunned.
VIVEK PAL
Arati Naik ditched IT and marketing to chase a fiercer muse—Spanish and Portuguese cuisine— and Isabella’s Tapas Bar in Panjim, Goa, is the result. “Isabella” means devotion, and Naik pours hers into every corner of this place, crafting a menu that’s less a nod and more a full-throated holler to tapas culture. It’s personal, it’s real, and it’s got her fingerprints all over it, hauling Iberian grit straight to Goa’s doorstep.
This taperia and vermuteria isn’t shy—tapas like Patatas Bravas snap with heat, Gambas al Ajillo sizzle in garlic’s embrace, and Bacalhau brings that salty Portuguese swagger. Paellas lean local with ukda rice, tying the flavors to the land under your feet. It’s food that begs to be split, fought over, devoured with noise and elbows. The vibe’s loose, alive—think less fine dining, more raucous feast.
Chef Vivek Pal, late of Mumbai’s Ekaa, keeps it tight in the kitchen, weaving tradition with a sly edge. His plates don’t just echo Spain and Portugal—they growl with them, sharpened by Goan twists. Isabella’s isn’t a quiet homage—it’s a bold, messy, delicious stamp of Naik’s obsession.
VISHESH JAWARANI
JSan, an Izakaya plopped into India’s food scene, isn’t just a spot to eat—it’s Vishesh Jawarani’s obsession with Japan’s soul, bottled up and served hot. A Culinary Institute of America grad who cut his teeth at Michelin joints like Daniel and Atoboy, Jawarani’s not here to fake it. He’s chasing wabisabi—beauty in the rough, simplicity with a snarl— and it seeps into every corner, from the torii gates you duck through to the Zen hum of the room. This isn’t a restaurant; it’s a hideout.
The menu’s his playground—ramen’s the king, a dish he swears has no rules once you nail the bones of it. He’s right: it’s a free-for-all of broth and bite, tweaked with a madman’s precision. You’ll find Izakaya classics too, sharp and honest, built from years of tinkering and a love for Japan’s gritty food alleys. Every plate’s a jab—clean, bold, unapologetic.
The space? It’s a breather—cracked edges celebrated, quiet balance begging you to slow down. Solo or loud with friends, it’s a retreat that doesn’t preach. Jsan’s no polished gimmick—it’s a gut punch of culture, a salute to the imperfect, and a damn good bowl. Sit. Slurp. Feel it.
Here’s Kebabs & Kurries at ITC Grand Goa Resort & Spa in Jonathan Gold’s voice, between 200 and 225 words, bold and distinct:
Kebabs & Kurries at ITC Grand Goa Resort & Spa isn’t just a restaurant—it’s a smoky, spice-drenched throwback to the kitchens of royals and Nawabs, where folklore’s as thick as the gravy. The vibe’s earthy, easy, but the food’s a full-on assault—kebabs so tender they collapse, yanked hot from clay ovens, iron tandoors, charcoal grills, stone slabs, and rustic angethis. Curries bubble in sealed deghs, copper handis, and cauldrons, slow-simmered over charcoal into qormas, qaliyas, salans, or dopiazas, each a flavor bomb with a story.
The spread’s generous—veg and meat kept pure with separate gear—every dish clawing at the old recipes’ soul. Take dopiaza: lamb or fish stewed with whole spices, onions sautéed till they melt into a thick, fragrant cloak. It’s battlefield grub meets noble court swagger, spiked with forgotten herbs and exotic kicks. The menu’s no slapdash job—it’s a tightrope of balance, built to dazzle, and the awards piling up prove it’s hitting the mark.
This isn’t dining; it’s a plunder of history’s pantry, a riot of textures and tastes that doesn’t let up. Kebabs & Kurries doesn’t just feed you—it schools you in the art of indulgence.
PABLO MIRANDA
Imagine stumbling into a tiny, 16-seat hideout in Panjim, Goa, where the air hums with the hiss of charcoal and the faint brine of seaweed. That’s Makutsu, Pablo Miranda’s love letter to yakitori, served up with a Goan swagger that’d make a sushi purist blink twice. This isn’t your sterile Tokyo joint—Miranda’s got four tables, a hibachi glowing like a lighthouse, and a menu that’s lean but lethal: chicken hearts bouncing with chew, cartilage snapping like a drumbeat, duck sliced pink and lush.
He’s pulling seaweed from local farms, tossing it with ginger-chili tamari, and letting the grill do the heavy lifting. The tare sauce—soy, sake, and the drip of charred fat—has been simmering since the place opened, building umami like a slow jazz riff. No fancy rolls here, just skewers that hit you with smoke and soul.
Miranda’s a chef who’s less about dogma, more about instinct, and Makutsu feels like a secret you’d whisper over a cold Sapporo. Goa’s never tasted this Japanese—or this wild.
Tempero at ITC Grand Goa isn’t just a restaurant—it’s a sultry dive into Goa’s steamy love affair with Portugal, plated with a kick. The name means “seasoning” in Portuguese, and that’s the gospel here: spice and soul in every bite.
The room’s a colonial knockout—mosaic floors, windows glinting with mother-of-pearl shells—like a villa where secrets simmer. The menu’s a dance of Goan grit and Portuguese flair: prawn curry, fat with coconut and heat, lands beside fluffy rice, a crisp semolina-fried fish cutting through the richness.
Beans foogath brings a dry, green snap, while choriz pao—sausage-stuffed bread—growls with smoky swagger. A salad slicked with toddy vinegar bites back, and bebinca, that layered Indo-Portuguese pudding, seals it with sticky sweetness.
The chefs aren’t messing around—they weave India’s wild coast with Portugal’s old-world tricks, every dish a story of trade winds and tangled histories. It’s not dainty; it’s loud, aromatic, the kind of food that stains your fingers and lingers in your dreams. Tempero’s a Goan hymn, sung in a Portuguese accent, where the table groans under the weight of heritage and you leave humming with spice.
JASON DeSOUZA
You don’t stumble into The White Plate on Candolim’s Main Beach Road—you’re lured, like a moth to a chandelier’s glint. It’s the brainchild of Jason DeSouza, some mad artist-turned-chef who treats a white plate like it’s his Sistine Chapel. Two floors of plush leather, marble, and crystal scream elegance, but the black-and-amber accents keep it from feeling too holy. This is Goa, after all— decadence needs a little grit.
DeSouza’s a wizard with the humble, turning everyday stuff into food that struts. It starts with an amuse-bouche—raspberry coulis orbs crowned with caviar, popping like tiny flavor grenades. Then hors d’oeuvres roll out, all amsol foam and yuzu caviar, with sesame snow dusting the plate like a haughty afterthought. His plum tomato soup? Eight hours of sous-vide devotion, thyme whispering through it, modern but rooted. And the finale—a black forest cake, smashed and rebuilt tableside, less dessert than performance art.
This isn’t food for the timid. It’s for the ones who crave a little theatre with their meal, who don’t mind a chef flexing his ego if the flavors hit hard. DeSouza’s canvas delivers—bold, weird, and worth every bite. Go hungry. Leave dazzled.
CHICKEN COXINHA
by Guto Souza BOTECO
Chicken coxinha is a popular Brazilian snack made of shredded chicken wrapped in soft dough, shaped like a teardrop, breaded, and deep-fried to golden perfection.
INGREDIENTS
Dough
2 cups chicken broth
2 cups flour
2 tbsp butter
Salt for seasoning
Filling
2 cups shredded chicken
1 small onion (chopped)
2 garlic cloves (minced)
1 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp cream cheese (optional)
Salt and pepper for seasoning
1g parsley
Breading
2 eggs (beaten)
2 cups breadcrumbs
Oil for frying
Method
Filling
Sauté onion and garlic in olive oil, add the chicken, seasoning, cream cheese, and parsley. Set aside to cool.
Dough
Boil the broth and butter; add flour and stir until the dough forms. Knead until smooth.
Shape
Flatten the dough, add the filling, and shape into teardrop forms.
Breading
Dip in beaten eggs, coat with breadcrumbs.
Fry
Deep fry until golden brown and serve hot.
ANDREW WONG
Baoshuan” means “Chinese Treasure Ships”— those ancient hulks that ferried China’s finest to India and beyond. Perched atop The Oberoi in New Delhi, this rooftop joint channels that legacy, reworking Chinese cuisine with a swagger that spans centuries. Andrew Wong, the two-Michelinstar wizard from London’s A. Wong, curates the menu, and it’s a wild ride—Buddhist temple grub from the Tang dynasty, Suzhou’s Ming-era tea houses, Shanghai’s jazzy ’30s, all the way to Hong Kong’s sleek cocktail hours. It’s a time machine on a plate.
Master Chef Chuan Xi Sun and his crew, mentored by Wong, steer this ship. The spread’s built for sharing—history-soaked recipes and kitchen tricks honed over 4,000 years. Take the thousandlayered chicken puff: flaky pastry hugging tender chicken, kissed by pickled cucumbers. Then there’s the steamed spinach and prawn tobiko, a Cantonese dim sum classic that’s all plush and pop. And don’t sleep on the thousand chilli chicken—Sichuan’s fire-breathing soul, a riot of heat and spice that’ll wake you up fast.
Baoshuan isn’t just dinner; it’s a plunder of China’s culinary vaults. You’re not eating—you’re raiding treasure ships, one bite at a time. Dive in. It’s a haul worth savoring.
J.P SINGH
Bukhara at ITC Maurya, New Delhi, is a 45-yearold legend, a tandoor-forged shrine to North West Frontier grub that’s hooked everyone from globetrotters to presidents. Its magic? Relentless detail and a stubborn grip on old-school cooking tricks. The clay oven churns out kebabs so juicy they’d make a nomad weep, breads that blister just right, and veggies that hum with smoke. This was once rough-and-tumble frontier fuel—rugged, warm, soul-filling. Now, it’s polished to a gleam.
J.P. Singh, a kitchen maestro schooled at Delhi’s Institute of Hotel Management and Mumbai’s IHMCTAN, took the helm in ’91 after climbing ITC’s ranks since ’81. He’s the guy who keeps Bukhara’s fire roaring. The Sikandri Raan—a leg of lamb that’s tender as a whisper—steals the show, while the Dal Bukhara, slow-simmered and smug, is pure comfort in a bowl. Platters pile on the hits, a crash course in why this place rules.
Bukhara’s not just surviving; it’s flexing—racking up awards, drawing gourmets and world leaders like moths to a flame. It’s India’s culinary flex on the global stage, a rough-hewn gem turned icon. Step in. Taste the frontier, refined but never tamed.
VINEET BHATIA MBE
Dhilli, under the wizardry of Michelin-starred Vineet Bhatia MBE, isn’t just a restaurant—it’s a wild ride through Delhi’s soul. Bhatia’s a genius, a guy who’s dragged Indian cooking into the stratosphere, mixing old-school vibes with a mad scientist’s flair. This ain’t your grandma’s curry joint; it’s a love song to Delhi’s chaos and flavor, pulled from family kitchens, street carts, and sweaty community stoves. He’s got the tangy chaats of Chandni Chowk popping off, the slow-simmered kormas of Jama Masjid perfuming the air—every plate’s a shout-out to the city’s legends.
Forget your standard appetizer-main-dessert deal. Dhilli’s menu zigzags through Delhi’s neighborhoods like a rickshaw on a bender: Chandni Chowk’s street-food fireworks, Jama Masjid’s juicy kebabs and regal kormas, Rajouri Garden’s crispy kachoris and tandoor-blistered chicken tikka, CR Park’s whisper-soft Bengali touches. Nizamuddin’s biryanis and Paranthewali Gali’s hefty breads nod to Mughal ghosts. Desserts? Shahi tukda, kulfi, gajrela—classics twisted with a wink. Veggies don’t get shafted either—paneer dishes and aloo kulcha with masala cheese naan keep it real.
Named for Raja Dhilu, some ancient Delhi OG, Dhilli’s got roots and swagger. With Bhatia’s Oberoi hookup, it’s a mashup of local grit and global polish—Delhi’s messy, beautiful spirit on a plate. You don’t just eat here; you feel the city breathe.
GULAM
M. QURESHI
Dum Pukht at ITC Maurya New Delhi is a time capsule, dripping with flavors so deep you can feel the centuries in every bite. For 35 years, this place has been slinging royal Awadhi vibes, pulling straight from the Nawabs’ 200-year-old playbook. The trick’s in the name: dum pukht, slow-cooking in a sealed handi till the meat, the spices, the everything stews in its own juices. It’s intense, aromatic, lazy luxury on a plate—food that doesn’t rush, just simmers into richness you can’t fake.
The vibe’s pure courtly swagger—sapphire blues and silver glinting like some Nawab’s palace, all old-world charm and zero apologies. Grand Master Chef Gulam M. Qureshi’s the soul here, a guy born into a line of royal cooks, wielding secrets his dad handed down. He’s been at it since Dum Pukht kicked off, turning Delhi folks into Awadhi obsessives. Before ITC Maurya snagged him in ’77, he’d already mastered this ancient slow-cook game.
This isn’t just dinner—it’s a flex of India’s grandest cuisine, plated with the kind of elegance that makes you sit up straighter. Qureshi and his crew don’t mess around; they’re keeping a legacy alive, one smoky, succulent bite at a time. You don’t eat here—you surrender to it.
SHANTANU MEHROTRA
Indian Accent isn’t your corner curry spot—it’s a game-changer, the first modern Indian joint to crack the global stage with a machete swing at tradition. Shantanu Mehrotra, the chef who’s been at it since the doors swung open at The Manor in 2009, doesn’t just cook; he rewires. His menu’s a wild ride—seasonal loot and oddball ingredients from everywhere, stitched into dishes that jab at nostalgia while flirting with the unknown. It’s Indian, sure, but it’s got a passport and a punk streak.
Mehrotra’s been with Old World Hospitality since ’99, a 20-year vet who’s slung plates at Delhi ‘O’ Delhi, Chor Bizarre, and beyond, now helming Indian Accent’s Delhi and New York outposts for EHV International. He’s not tethered to ghee and garam masala—he grabs global tricks, twisting classics into something you didn’t know you needed. Think reimagined street eats or a curry that’s half memory, half revelation. The guy’s racked up awards like they’re going out of style, and you can taste why: every bite’s a tightrope of comfort and chaos. Indian Accent isn’t just food— it’s a jolt, a middle finger to the predictable, served up with a grin. Dig in.
ADWAIT ANANTWAR
Inja, smack in South Delhi, is a high-wire act, juggling Indian spice and Japanese finesse like it’s no big deal. Dubai’s Atelier House Hospitality crashed into India with this one, handing the reins to chef Adwait Anantwar and CEO Panchali Mahendra, who’ve cooked up a mash-up that’s as gutsy as it is grounded. This isn’t fusion for the faint—it’s a fullon celebration of two worlds slamming into each other, daring you to keep up.
The menu’s a head-trip: shiso leaf wrapping tuna and pomelo chaat, lobster rasam sneaking into chawanmushi—it’s Indian soul with Japanese precision, familiar enough to nod at, wild enough to wake you up. Anantwar doesn’t blend so much as collide, letting the bold and the delicate duke it out on the plate. There’s a Tasting Menu that’s basically a gauntlet of flavor, and you’ll want to run it.
The room’s in on the game—Japanese minimalism meets Indian flair, all clean lines and loud pops, a space that’s as much a trip as the food. INJA’s not here to comfort—it’s here to provoke, to dazzle, to stick with you. Sit down. Brace yourself. Taste the fireworks.
GAGAN SIKKA
Loya’s a wild, sprawling feast that drags you through the North—Himalayan foothills, Punjab’s flat sprawl, Kashmir’s snowy hush—like a culinary caravan with no brakes. It’s not about kings and their gilded platters; this is the food of warriors, tribes, soldiers—gritty, real, alive. They’ve scoured the region for recipes that hum with the past, pulling out tricks like “dhungar” smoke that hits like a punch, “baghar” spice pops in hot oil, or “dum” slow-cooking that’s richer than a warlord’s ransom. Spices get pounded by hand, loud and proud, the way they should be.
The plate’s a clash of yesterday and now—fresh farm meats, seasonal hauls, and spice blends ground right there, no shortcuts. Chef’s not playing; every bite’s a story of the North’s rugged soul. Then there’s the drinks—Panjj, riffing on five, a boozy nod to India’s sacred number, and the S.P.I.C.E. collection, liquid jams mixing botanicals and badass spirits into a symphony of Scale, Pitch, Chords. It’s a head-trip with a chaser.
And the kicker? Loya dropped an album—Shreyas Patkar’s indie-classical mash-up with mandolins and rababs wailing, an anthem for the food itself. It’s not just dinner; it’s a sensory brawl—flavours, sounds, memories of smoke and spice. Dive in. You’ll taste the North’s heartbeat.
SHUBHAM THAKUR
Step into Megu at The Leela Palace New Delhi, and you’re not just eating—you’re plunging into a Japanese dreamscape where the chopsticks gleam and the air smells faintly of yuzu. This is Shubham Thakur’s turf, a young gun who’s turned sushi into a high-wire act. He’s got the old ways down—think rice so perfect it could break your heart—but he’s not afraid to riff.
Shubham kicked off at Megu in 2015, then sharpened his knives at Wasabi by Morimoto, before slinging modernist vibes at Yokoso, his own bar at The Lodhi. In 2022, he swaggered back to MEGU as the first Indian Chef de Cuisine, and now he’s the head honcho, orchestrating dishes that hum with precision and mischief.
The shira-ae is a creamy whisper, the salmon tartare pops like a bright red firecracker, and the yuzu miso black cod melts into a puddle of velvet. Asparagus gets a crispy Megu glow-up, while the omakase—a bespoke parade tailored to your whims—feels like Shubham’s handing you the keys to his brain.
With fish flown in from far-off seas, this isn’t just dinner; it’s a glossy, serene thrill ride through Japan’s future, plated with a Delhi grin.
JASON NAZARETH
The Orient Express at Taj Palace is a mahoganypaneled carriage rattling through New Delhi’s sprawl since ’83. Inspired by that Paris-to-Istanbul train—RIP 1977—this place resurrects the old beast’s glamour, all white-gloved service and vintage wines that’d make Hercule Poirot twitch his mustache. Forty years in, it’s still the capital’s reigning champ, a Rocheston Distinguished nod in its pocket, serving European classics like it’s dodging Agatha Christie plot twists.
You step in, and it’s 1883 all over again— lalique-inlaid walls, brass racks glinting, tables draped in linen so crisp it could starch your soul. A pianist tickles the air while your amusebouche—avocado, celeriac, truffle—lands like a sly wink. The five-course degustation’s a slow burn: consommé with smoked duck agnolotti or a Dutch asparagus soup that’s pure velvet; then a Camembert soufflé puffing with paprika sass or baby artichokes strutting truffle vibes. Mains? Risotto with butternut and sage, linguine snapping with manchego foam, or a lamb Chasseur that’s all hunter’s swagger. Dessert’s a warm chocolate puddle or a vanilla Blancmange that’s fruity and prim.
It’s not just dinner—it’s a ticket to a lost era, plush and precise, where every bite’s a scene. The Orient Express doesn’t roll anymore, but here, it’s alive. Climb aboard. Eat like a legend.
EDJOSE FERNANDES
Edjose Fernandes didn’t just stumble into SAZ— he built it from the gut up, fueled by kidhood flashbacks of his mom’s stove and a hunger that wouldn’t quit. He cut his teeth at Don Bosco’s hospitality school, then dove into the Oberoi’s Trident in Mumbai, soaking up the big leagues— teamwork, polish, the works.
From there, he bounced to Foodhall Cookery Studio, turning workshops into food-love revivals, before playing private chef at Harmless, balancing kale and caviar for the fancy set. But Passcode Hospitality handed him the keys to SAZ – American Brasserie, and that’s where he caught fire.
Part of the pre-opening crew, he molded this shape-shifter of a spot—New York grit meets OldWorld cool, named for the Sazerac cocktail that purrs in every glass. SAZ morphs with its turf: a Euro-bistro in Delhi, a beachy Goa hang, a brassy Mumbai joint.
The menu’s a love letter to American classics— avocado smashed on toast, buttermilk pancakes fluffy as a cloud, fish tacos with a Bay Area wink— all paired with cocktails that riff on that rye-andabsinthe legend. Edjose’s SAZ isn’t stiff; it’s a rollicking good time, food and booze slung with a grin, like a diner that grew up sexy.
RAW MANGO SALAD
by Ansab Khan
BURMA BURMA
A popular street food in Burma, this refreshing salad with raw mango and cabbage and lettuce with its distinct sweet, spicy and tangy taste, is a perfect addition to your summer meal.
INGREDIENTS
2 cups raw mango (julienne)
1/2 cabbage white (shredded)
1/2 iceberg lettuce (shredded)
1/2 red onion (sliced)
1/2 roasted chilli powder
2 tsp peanut
1 tsp chilli oil
4 tsp honey
Salt for seasoning
3 tsp aromat broth powder
1/2 sugar (powdered0
1 tsp gram flour (roasted)
1/2 salad oil
Garnish (Optional)
2 to 3 edible flowers
Method
Roast the gram flour in a pan, on a slow flame till it turns slightly brown and the raw aroma disappear. Roast the peanuts lightly and remove. Discard skin, if any, crush, and keep aside.
Heat oil in a pan and fry the sliced onions to a golden brown and remove from the pan and drain on kitchen tissue. In the same pan, with the oil at a lukewarm temperature, add the roasted chilli powder and toss gently for a minute. Remove it from the oil and keep it aside.
In a mixing bowl add shredded iceberg lettuce, raw mango julienne, shredded cabbage, spices, and all other ingredients and mix lightly.
Place in a serving bowl and serve at room temperature.
Tucked under a pavilion at The House of MG, Ahmedabad’s granddaddy of heritage hotels, The Green House feels like a secret garden café— greenery spilling everywhere, the Sidi Saiyed Mosque winking across the street. It’s been slinging comfort for 25 years, a courtyard joint where you can smell the spices sizzling in the open kitchen. Breakfast or supper, it’s a balm—Gujarati classics rubbing elbows with global grub, cold-pressed juices that taste like sunshine, and ice creams churned with a little love.
The place sprawls into an old buggy room, now air-conditioned, but it’s the lush outdoors that hooks you. The menu’s a scrapbook of Anjali Mangaldas’s home cooking—recipes straight from her family’s stove, still alive under Ravi’s steady hand. He’s the Uttarakhand boy who climbed from junior chef to ringleader, guiding a crew of village vets who’ve kneaded and stirred these dishes into muscle memory. Their rule? Keep it fresh, keep it simple—seasonal stuff, no smoke and mirrors, just flavours that pop clean. Gravies play backup, never the star.
You’ll find thalis that hum with Gujarat’s soul, snacks that crunch with history, and international bites that don’t feel out of place. It’s not flashy— just honest, green-wrapped comfort. Locals know it. You should too. Grab a seat. Breathe it in.
ARCHIT ARORA
Yi Jing at ITC Narmada in Ahmedabad is a Chinese remix where “Yi” (change) and “Jing” (classic) collide in a wok-hot storm. This isn’t your corner takeout—it’s Sichuan and Hunan throwing punches, with sous chef Archit Arora swinging the ladle.
Four years deep with Yi Jing, this ITC grad learned from two Chinese masters, and now he’s slinging hand-pulled noodles that stretch like a dare, dim sum folded with origami grace, and duck roasted till it crackles from a beast of an oven. The wok’s his playground—spices sizzle, chiles bite, and every dish lands with a modern kick that still bows to the old ways.
Desserts sneak in, sweet and wild, like a secret you didn’t see coming. The room’s a stunner—black for heaven, blue for spring, gnarled wood trusses echoing Ming dynasty ships, porcelain vases whispering fortune.
Archit’s a stickler for the real deal, but he’s not afraid to play—festive menus twist classics into something new, waking up a town that’s slept on Chinese depth. Yi Jing’s no museum; it’s a living, breathing beast, a pan-Chinese romp that’s loud, tasty, and itching to show India what it’s been missing.
CHICKEN KATSU CURRY
by Pablo Miranda MAKUTSU
INGREDIENTS
320g onion (sliced)
160g green apple (peeled)
140g (40+40+60gm) salted butter
8g dried shitake
1000g chicken sock
60g all-purpose flour
28g curry powder
20g tomato paste
15g honey
10g dark soy sauce
25g Worcestershire sauce
7g garam masala
5g paprika
2g white miso
2g salt
60ml water(optional)
Method
Boil the chicken stock and put the shitake mushrooms into the broth. Allow it to infuse overnight.
In a pan, add the first part of butter and onions and cook on a low heat until golden brown. Deglaze plan with water if the bottom starts to burn.
In a food processor, add the green apple until roughly chopped and add the mixture into the onions with the soaked shiitake mushrooms and blitzed apple. Continue to cook on a low heat for 4-5 minutes. Take off the heat and keep aside.
In a pot, add the second part of butter and melt on a medium heat, allow it to turn slightly brown and add in the flour. Cook on a low heat while whisking until the flour is slightly toasted. Add in the garam masala, curry powder, white miso, paprika and MSG and continue to cook until lightly toasted.
Once toasted, add in the onion and apple mixture, dark soy, Worcestershire sauce, honey and infused shitake chicken stock.
Cook on a medium heat for 2-3 minutes. Blend the mixture into a smooth paste while still hot while slowly adding the remaining cold butter to emulsify. Fine strain the mixture and when reheating, bring it to a slow simmer.
Note
The cold butter can be emulsified at the time of reheating during service to avoid the curry from breaking. Add carrot, potato and shiitake into the curry before service. These can be marinated in a dashi broth before service.
Boteco, India’s first real Brazilian joint, lands in Bengaluru like a samba you can taste. Chef Guto Souza, a 30-year kitchen vet with international cred, runs the show—turning out Brazilian classics with a sly, creative twist. “Boteco” nods to those gritty neighborhood bars back in Brazil: cheap drinks, loose talk, good times. Here, it’s that vibe, plated.
The menu’s a deep dive—streetwise Coxinhas, golden and crisp, share space with the “Churrasqueira” barbecue flex, smoky and primal. Brazil’s 7,000-km coast gets its due: “Peixe” (fish), “Camarão” (prawns), and seafood that hums with freshness. Guto’s all about quality—every bite’s a passport stamp. The bar’s no slouch either, slinging Cachaça-spiked cocktails and Açaí-laced sips, plus Chimarrão and Erva Mate imports that taste like the real deal. Monthly specials keep it fresh, a little reckless.
The place itself? Pure Brazil—vibrant, loud, alive. Color-splashed walls riff on icons and jungles; a glass mosaic mural steals the show. Amazonian wallpaper and tropical plants pull you in, while South American tunes seal the deal—you’re not in Bengaluru anymore.
Boteco’s not just food; it’s a full-on plunge into Brazil’s soul. Grab a seat. Let it roll over you.
SBHUBHAM SHINH
CAJSA’s name pulls you back to Greece— something about purity, they say—but what hits the table is a globe-trotting fever dream, modernist riffs on dishes that feel both ancient and brand-new. This isn’t just a restaurant; it’s a canvas, splashed with flavors that tell stories if you lean in close enough. The kitchen’s got a backbone of authenticity, but it’s the wild mash-up of cultures that hooks you—gochujang sidling up to Sicilian lemon, miso whispering to black garlic, kaffir lime flirting with Italian truffle. Exotic mushrooms strut their stuff, too. Every bite’s a passport stamp.
The room’s spare, almost monastic—minimalism done right—with artwork that feels like it wandered out of some far-flung alleyway, elegant and worldly all at once. You’re not just eating; you’re strolling through landmarks you’ve never seen. It’s sophisticated but not fussy, the kind of place where the food doesn’t need to shout to be heard. CAJSA’s artistry lies in that balance: taking ingredients from everywhere—spicy, sour, earthy, bright—and weaving them into something fresh, something that lingers. You leave with your palate buzzing, a little dazed, like you’ve just tasted the whole damn world.
K.KASI
Down at Dakshin in ITC Windsor, Bengaluru, you’re not just eating—you’re stepping into the pulsing heart of South India, where Senior Master Chef K. Kasi reigns. This guy’s got 25 years with ITC Dakshin under his belt, plus three more at Windsor, and he’s not messing around. With Siddha Raju and Madhaiah Gowda by his side, Kasi’s crew is a powerhouse, churning out dishes that hum with the soul of Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka, Kerala, Tamil Nadu, Pondicherry, and Telangana. Every bite’s a love letter to the region’s wild, diverse flavors.
Since ’99, Dakshin’s been the gold standard for southern hospitality—think less “hotel restaurant,” more “time machine to the peninsula’s past.” They’re cooking with ancient tricks, serving it up in Urli and Adukku vessels that make you feel the weight of tradition. The rituals? Pure charm: a jasmine gajra for the ladies, crunchy appadam to start, paan beeda to finish, filter coffee that smells like heaven, and the Visesham trolley rolling out banana dosas with a savory kick. It’s personal, it’s alive, and it’s not just a meal—it’s a full-on South Indian party, loud with flavor and memory. Kasi and his team don’t just cook; they resurrect a whole damn way of life.
NAREN THIMMAIAH
Karavalli kicked off in 1990, a scrappy mission to sling the South West Coast’s gutsy flavors—Goa, Mangalore, Kerala—and 34 years later, it’s still swinging. This isn’t some dusty relic; it’s a living, breathing beast, retooled to jolt food nerds and gluttons alike. Authenticity’s the spine here, with recipes dug up from decades of obsessive chef treks, stitching together a coastal tapestry that’s as real as it gets. Naren Thimmaiah, the guy who’s steered this ship for over 30 years, keeps it tight— three decades with Taj, a commerce degree, hotel management chops, and a knack for holding the line on quality.
The menu’s a sprawl of vegetarian and meaty gems—Bunt spice, Coorg grit, Moplah swagger, Malayalee soul, and Goa’s Portuguese ghosts. Think coconut, red chilies, and pepper punching through fresh fish and meats, with veggies that taste like the shore. Thimmaiah’s crew doesn’t just cook—they excavate, spotlighting Konkani Brahmins, Syrian Christians, Havyaka Brahmins, giving every dish a pulse. Critics and celebs drool over it, and the awards pile up like driftwood.
Karavalli’s no nostalgia trap—it’s a raw, loud tribute to the coast, a place where spice and sea collide. Sit down. Eat up. Taste the tide.
MANU CHANDRA
Lupa’s a howl in Bengaluru’s MG Road chaos, a she-wolf of a restaurant named for La Lupa—the mythic mama who nursed Rome’s founders. Manu Chandra, a kitchen sage with 20 years of scars, and Chetan Rampal, a hospitality sharpshooter, birthed this beast. It’s no tame eatery—it’s a tribute to the world’s big flavors, clawing past boundaries with a snarl.
Chandra’s menu is a tightrope strut—European roots twisted with a madcap streak, built on old tricks but never dusty. Think farm-to-fork without the preachiness, provenance that’s more than a buzzword. Dishes shift every four months, a restless dance of consistency and surprise—classics reborn with a glint of mischief, like a risotto that smirks or a roast that roars. It’s food with guts, not gimmicks, aimed at folks who’ve chewed their way around the globe.
The space? Pre-modern plush meets old-world grit—opulent but lived-in, a sanctuary where the city’s din fades. You’re not just eating; you’re tangled in a sensory brawl—plates that provoke, vibes that hum. Lupa’s a confluence of Chandra’s hard-earned chops and a crew that cooks like they mean it. This she-wolf doesn’t whisper—she sings, loud and feral.
SURESH PILLAI
North Rasoi by Chef Pillai’s a Mughal-Rajput ruckus, a Northern Indian feast that lands like a velvet hammer. Suresh Pillai, Kerala’s culinary cowboy, lassoed this beast in Whitefield, Bangalore, back in ’22, and it’s since galloped to Calicut and Doha, Qatar, leaving flavor-crushed fans in its wake. He’s not just cooking—he’s stitching a tapestry of spice and swagger, where old-school gravies meet a modern wink.
Pillai’s a Kerala son, raised on coconut and fishbone dreams, and he sneaks that lush green soul into the North’s dusty opulence. Think tandoori heat with a coastal whisper—lamb that sighs with saffron, paneer that flexes Kerala’s peppery edge. It’s Mughal pomp and Rajput fire, sure, but with a twist that’s pure Pillai—three decades of globetrotting grit, from local stoves to global fame, distilled into every bite.
This ain’t your average curry shack. It’s a journey— aromatic, rich, a little rowdy—where tradition gets a playful shove. Pillai’s the ambassador of God’s Own Country, charming as hell, slinging Kerala’s gospel into Northern lore. North Rasoi’s his stage, and you’re the lucky sucker in the front row. Grab a seat. Taste the clash. You’ll leave stuffed and starry-eyed.
TUNA TARU TARU
by Lakhan Jethani
MIZU IZAKAYA
INGREDIENTS
Tuna Tartare
100g fresh tuna (chopped)
20g kewpie mayonnaise
5g onions (finely chopped)
5g teriyaki sauce
Black Garlic Emulsion
100g black garlic
50g neutral oil (vegetable or canola oil)
Yolk Sauce
3 egg yolk
Method
Tuna Tartare
In a bowl, combine the chopped tuna, kewpie mayonnaise, finely chopped onions, and teriyaki sauce. Mix thoroughly to ensure the flavours are evenly distributed. Chill in the refrigerator until ready to serve.
Black Garlic Emulsion
Place the black garlic and neutral oil into a blender. Blend on high speed until the mixture is smooth and emulsified. Set aside.
Yolk Sauce
In a small saucepan, cook the egg yolks on very low heat, stirring constantly, until thickened and creamy. This may take a few minutes.
Remove from heat and let it cool slightly.
Plating
Spread a base of the yolk sauce on a plate.
Place a scoop of the tuna tartare mixture in the centre of the plate.
Drizzle the black garlic emulsion around the tartare for a striking visual effect.
Serve with small pieces of Mentai bread
Enjoy this elegant and flavourful dish.
SURESH PILLAI
Restaurant Chef Pillai isn’t about filling your gut— it’s about tugging your heartstrings, kicking up old memories, and leaving you with a story. Suresh Pillai kicked this off in Whitefield, Bangalore, back in ’21, hell-bent on pouring Kerala’s soul onto plates in a way that’s cosy yet electric. Tradition’s his backbone, but he’s not afraid to riff—every dish lands like a hug with a twist. It’s a hit, now stretching to Qatar, because who doesn’t crave a taste of home that’s also a wake-up call?
The menu’s a love letter—Fish Nirvana’s a salty, silken daydream; Unniyappam Falooda twists sweet nostalgia into something wild; Sambaram Kadumanga Pani Pooris pop with mischief. Injipuli Chicken Wings sting and soothe, while Palada Cheesecake sneaks Kerala into dessert like a sly wink. Each bite’s a tightrope—comfort crashing into surprise, every spice a storyteller.
But it’s more than food. It’s Kerala’s big, sweaty embrace—the kind of hospitality that makes strangers kin. Pillai’s in the details, his passion simmering quiet but fierce, whispering “Sneham Vaari Vitharatte”—let love spill out. You’re not just eating; you’re connecting, wrapped in a meal that’s home and horizon all at once. This is Kerala, unboxed.
RANDY PIELAGO CULTIVO
Listen, I’ve chased flavors across continents, from sweaty Bangkok noodle stalls to the hushed dining rooms of Paris, but Wabi Sabi—helmed by globetrotting maestro Randy Pielago Cultivo—feels like a fever dream of East meeting East. The name’s a sly nod to that Japanese ethos of fleeting beauty, the kind of thing that makes you ponder life’s impermanence over a second sake. It’s in the chipped ceramic bowls, the gnarled wood tables, even the food itself—pretty but rough-edged, like a haiku you can eat.
Cultivo’s got a pair of expat chefs in the kitchen, wizards from China and Japan, wielding imported goods like culinary shoguns. The menu’s a love letter to both nations—think Cantonese classics crashing into Tokyo’s greatest hits. There’s a sushi bar that glows like a neon altar, where a grizzled Japanese vet carves Otoro so fatty it melts like gossip on your tongue, alongside Hotate scallops that taste of the sea’s deep secrets. Wakame and Saku tuna round out the show—pristine, elemental stuff.
Pair it with a pour of their curated Japanese whiskey or a sake that hums with ricey warmth. Wabi Sabi’s a place where contrasts collide— messy, beautiful, and alive. Go. Eat. Reflect.
TAGLIATELLE BOLOGNESE
by Sagar Chandrai CASANONI
Tagliatelle Bolognese is a classic Italian pasta dish featuring rich, slow-cooked meat sauce served over ribbons of fresh tagliatelle. Originating from Bologna, this hearty dish is made with a blend of ground beef, simmered with onions, carrots, celery, tomatoes, and a touch of red wine for depth. Traditional recipes use milk to create a velvety texture, balancing the sauce’s acidity. The pasta, with its wide, flat shape, perfectly clings to the flavourful ragu. Finished with freshly grated Parmesan, this comforting, soulwarming dish embodies the essence of Italian cuisine— simple ingredients slow cooking, and deep, satisfying flavours.
INGREDIENTS
Bolognaise Sauce
100g mince
60g amul milk
20ml red wine
20g tomato concasse
10g carrots
20g onions
10g leeks
10g celery
Tagliatelle Bolognese
150g bolognaise
120g homemade tagliatele
30g butter
10ml extra virgin olive oil
20ml red wine
15g parmesan cheese
5g salt
5g black pepper
5g rosemary
Method
Sauté garlic and rosemary in extra virgin olive oil, then add the red wine. Add the Bolognese sauce and tomato concasse. Simmer for 6 to 8 minutes. Add blanched Tagliatelle, tossing to coat. Adjust consistency with reserved pasta water if needed. Cook for 2-3 minutes to absorb flavours.
House of Ming isn’t just a Chinese spot—it’s a plunge into yin-yang alchemy, where old-school vibes tangle with a sleek, modern edge. The place hums with tradition, decked out in pillbox flourishes, rare artifacts, and a palette of green, blue-grey, and red that pops like a fever dream. Copper walls gleam, the red bar beckons— it’s a scene that’s as much a feast for the eyes as the stomach. This isn’t dining; it’s a full-body experience.
Paritush Nath, the kitchen’s linchpin, grew up sniffing out flavors in Kolkata’s Chinatown, turning a sibling hobby into a 12-year tear through Chinese cuisine. He’s a maestro now, juggling Cantonese subtlety with Sichuan’s slow burn, every dish a tightrope walk of fresh, light, and bold. No heavy grease here—just years of honing, tweaking, perfecting. The menu’s a showcase: colorful, balanced, alive, like it’s got something to say.
The food’s the star, but the room’s a coconspirator—sophisticated, not stuffy, a nod to Chinese roots that doesn’t feel like a history lesson. Nath’s plates are a tribute to the craft, a mashup of legacy and gutsy invention. House of Ming doesn’t just feed you—it grabs you, shakes you, leaves you buzzing.
JEETU BHADOURIA
Machan hides out at the Taj Lakefront in Bhopal, a spot where nature and plushness arm-wrestle to a draw. Named for those forest watchtowers, it’s got a vibe that’s both dirt-under-the-nails and highfalutin—lake views through big windows or alfresco seats under a sky that dares you to look up. It’s a sensory wallop, like dining in a treehouse with better lighting.
The place is decked out in timber, marble, and metal, all beige and taupe and brown, whispering rustic without skimping on swank. The menu’s a wild ride, marrying Nawabi Bhopal’s regal past with forest flavours from God-knows-where—think global woodsiness meets local spice, a mash-up that shouldn’t work but does. Jeetu Bhadouria’s the man behind it, 13 years deep in the game, twisting Indian classics into something you’d swear you’ve tasted in a dream. Three years at Machan, and he’s turned it into his canvas—every plate a story, Nawabi roots tangled with new tricks.
This isn’t just food. It’s a chef flexing, weaving heritage and invention until you’re chewing history itself. A curry might hum with royal ghosts; a texture could surprise like a twig snapping underfoot. Machan’s a getaway where the wild meets the refined. Sit. Eat. Let it sink in. You’ll leave fuller than you came.
NALLI GUCCHI KORMA
by Vineet Bhatia MBE DHILLI
A rich and aromatic korma featuring tender mutton shanks (nalli) cooked in a creamy, spiced gravy. The gucchi (morel mushrooms) filling adds an earthy flavour and texture to the dish.
INGREDIENTS
3 tbsp oil / 5g whole spices (bay leaf, cinnamon, cardamom, cloves) / 150g onion slices / 15g ginger garlic paste / 500g nalli (mutton shanks) / 200g curd (yogurt) / 5g coriander powder / 3g cumin powder / 2g turmeric powder / 5g red chilli powder / 3g garam masala / salt for seasoning / 1 tbsp kewra water
Gucci Filling
50g paneer (grated) / 50g cheese (grated, preferably a mix of mozzarella and cheddar) / 10g coriander leaves (chopped) / 10g ginger (chopped) / 10g green chilli (chopped) / 10g coriander leaves (chopped) /15g almond flakes (lightly toasted) / salt for seasoning / pinch of garam masala
Method
Nalli Korma
Heat oil in a large pot or kadhai. Add whole spices and sauté until aromatic.
Add sliced onions and cook until golden brown and caramelized.
Add the mutton shanks (nalli) and sear well on all sides to lock in the juices.
Stir in the ginger garlic paste and cook until the raw aroma disappears.
Add the coriander powder, cumin powder, turmeric powder, red chilli powder, garam masala, and salt. Stir well to coat the mutton.
Mix in the whisked curd and cook until the oil separates from the gravy.
Add water to adjust the consistency and cook until the nalli is tender and the gravy is rich and creamy.
Finish with a splash of kewra water for fragrance and depth.
Gucchi Filling
In a bowl, combine grated paneer, cheese, chopped ginger, chopped green chilli, almond flakes, and chopped coriander leaves.
Season with salt, pepper, and a pinch of garam masala. Mix everything to form a chunky filling.
Assemble
Stuff the prepared gucchi (morel mushrooms) with the filling.
Gently place the stuffed gucchi into the mutton korma and let it simmer for a few minutes to absorb the flavours. Adjust the seasoning if needed and garnish with fresh coriander leaves.
Note
This dish is best served with tandoori bread. The creamy richness of the korma complements the delicate, earthy flavour of the stuffed gucchi.
SUJAN MUKHERJEE
Anise, tucked inside Chennai’s Taj Coromandel, is a luxe playground of global flavors—a place where regional Indian riffs tangle with Italian, Mediterranean, and coastal vibes. Once called Pavilion, it got a glow-up and a new name, nodding to star anise, that sultry Indian spice. Now, it’s a stunner: open kitchens buzz, breakfast spreads sprawl like a sultan’s feast, and dinner buffets dare you to stop at one plate. The vibe’s electric, pulling in locals and wanderers hungry for something refined yet alive.
Sunday brunch is the city’s golden ticket—tables groan under the weight of endless options, with a kids’ menu that’s no afterthought. But the real star? The Gilli Biryani. It’s “geeli”—wet, in Hindi—a steamy, succulent pile of meat and stock-soaked rice, cooked tender with vegetables or flesh. Moist, bold, unforgettable, it’s the dish you’ll fight over.
Sujan Mukherjee runs the show, a 25-year kitchen vet who’s slung pans at Taj outposts from Delhi to Jaipur. He’s got Indian, Italian, and French in his bones, but don’t sleep on his Japanese, Mediterranean, or Chinese moves—plus a pastry game that’s pure flex. Anise isn’t just a meal; it’s a passport, stamped with Mukherjee’s restless brilliance. Sit down. Let it take you somewhere.
NIKHIL NAGPAL
ITC Hotels cracked the code on Indian cuisine’s global strut with Avartana at Chennai’s ITC Grand Chola—a love letter to Southern India, remixed with a wild streak. The name, from Sanskrit “avartan,” hums with rhythm and mystery, and the food delivers: traditional flavors from the peninsula spun into modernist magic. Think local spices, coconut whispers, curry leaves, and broths so delicate they feel like a secret. It’s rooted yet radical—fine dining with a pulse.
Nikhil Nagpal keeps the fire burning, a decade after a visionary chef squad birthed this gem. With 18 years at ITC—kicking off in 2001 postWelcomgroup—he sharpened his knives at ITC Maratha, Grand Central, and Sheraton New Delhi before landing at Grand Chola. His obsession with South Indian flavors sparked in college, fueled by a childhood bouncing through regional kitchens thanks to his dad’s military gigs. At Avartana, he’s turned that passion into dishes that dance between heritage and havoc.
The Chennai original was such a knockout, ITC doubled down, planting Avartana flags in Kolkata, Mumbai, and Colombo—each a promise to rattle discerning eaters with the same gutsy grace. This isn’t just cooking; it’s a tightrope walk of tradition and invention. Sit. Taste. Let it mess with you.
SEKAR THAPA
China XO doesn’t mess around—the “XO” stands for extraordinary, and this award-winner delivers. Every bite’s a story, spun from China’s sprawling culinary map. Sekar, the head chef, is the wizard here, a name that rings with precision and a fierce grip on authenticity. He learned Peking duck under Chef Chun’s watchful eye, and now that dish—crisp-skinned, soul-deep—draws crowds like moths to a lantern. His game’s all about respecting the old ways while sneaking in a modern twist, so each plate hums with tradition and a little mischief.
With Sekar at the helm, China XO’s a lighthouse for food fiends, pulling you straight into China’s heart. He’s obsessive about ingredients—only the best make the cut—and his technique’s so sharp it could slice silk. The place buzzes with a live dim sum station, a wood-fired Peking duck oven pumping out smoky perfume, and a tea counter steeped in Eastern finesse. Dig into the hits: that duck, of course, plus stir-fried prawns slick with XO sauce, Mapo tofu that bites back, Kung Pao chicken with swagger, and golden garlic fried rice that’s pure comfort. It’s not just dinner—it’s a passport, stamped with every glorious mouthful.
ASHISH SINGH
Pan Asian at ITC Grand Chola in Chennai isn’t just a restaurant—it’s a sweaty, delicious trek across Asia’s culinary wilds. Born from India’s evolving crush on everything from Sichuan spice to sushi, this place, under Ashish Singh’s steady hand, throws a party where China, Japan, Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Vietnam all crash the table.
You enter through the Walk of Temptation— sounds like a dare, feels like a tease—past a wine cellar stuffed with 800 bottles, into a sprawl of live kitchens and duck ovens pumping out heat and aroma. Café Edo’s the Japanese nook, a sushi bar slinging silky yellowtail and tempura that crunches like a haiku. Over at Indian Ocean, the day’s catch glints—pick your fish, weigh it, grill it.
Singh, a vet from ITC’s heavy hitters, trained in Tokyo and Singapore, keeps it real but sneaky— think tofu cheesecake or wasabi crème brûlée winking at you from the dessert counter. Upstairs, the Chef’s Studio goes omakase, a blind blitz of tiny, wild bites.
This isn’t timid Chinese takeout or tourist pad Thai— it’s Asia untamed, loud with fish sauce and soy, stitched with a Chennai pulse. Pan Asian’s a feast that dares you to keep up.
SUJAN MUKHERJEE
Southern Spice at Taj Coromandel in Chennai isn’t just a restaurant—it’s a half-century saga of South India’s soul, served hot and holy. Born as Mysore in 1974, it got a glow-up in ’96, emerging as this temple-lit shrine to Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Andhra Pradesh, and Karnataka. The room hums with palace vibes—think carved pillars and a whiff of sandalwood—but it’s the food that sings.
Vazhapoo paruppu vadai lands crisp, a banana blossom fritter with lentil crunch; koonu porichathu fries mushrooms into golden jolts. Prawns in eral milagu peratel crackle with black pepper heat, while elaneer payasam—a chilled coconut dream—cools you down like a monsoon breeze.
Sujan Mukherjee, the kitchen’s big gun, steers this ship with 25 years of Taj-honed grit, from Delhi to Jaipur. He’s nabbed awards—Best Chef from India’s government, a nod from America’s bread bakers—and he’s not coasting.
Sujan’s a South Indian evangelist, coaxing tradition into every bite while sneaking in a sly twist or two. Southern Spice isn’t some dusty relic; it’s a living, breathing feast, a connoisseur’s pit stop where the four states’ flavors tangle and strut. This is the South, unapologetic and loud, plated with a master’s touch.
CORNISH HEN
by Will Aghajanian THE TABLE
INGREDIENTS
Cornish Hen
1 Cornish hen
4 sage leaves, chopped
1 sprig rosemary, chopped
1 lemon (zest)
1 clove garlic, minced Thyme, to taste
Olive oil, for brushing
Lemon juice, for brushing
Panzenella
80g clarified butter
500g sourdough bread or Goan poi bread
250g dark chicken stock
White wine, for deglazing
1 sprig sage
1 sprig rosemary
1 lemon (zest)
1 bunch frisée
1 clove garlic, minced
Chives, sliced
Olive oil, for tossing and drizzling
Salt for seasoning
4 confit gizzards, sliced
Method
Preparing the Cornish Hen
Butterflying the Hen
Cut along the backside of the hen and remove the rib cage and thigh bone. Place the hen uncovered, skin side up, on a rack in the refrigerator for 2 days to air dry the skin.
Seasoning
After 2 days, brush the hen with olive oil and a little lemon juice. Chop the sage, rosemary, lemon zest, and garlic, then mix with thyme. Evenly coat the meat side of the hen with this herb mixture.
Cooking the Hen
Searing
Preheat the oven to 380°F (193°C).
Heat clarified butter in a pan and sear the hen, skin side down, until golden brown.
Baking
Place a weight on the hen and bake in the preheated oven for 5 minutes. Once done, baste with the warm butter, flip the hen, and keep it on a rack.
Panzenella
Toasting the Bread
Tear the sourdough bread into pieces. Toss with olive oil and salt, then bake at 320°F (160°C) until crisp.
Dressing
Once the chicken is done, deglaze the pan with white wine. Allow the wine to reduce, then add the dark chicken stock and reduce slightly. Let the mixture cool.
Assembling the Salad
Add a few leaves of frisée to the cooled pan. Add the sliced confit gizzards and toasted bread to the pan, then toss with the pan drippings.
Serving
Place the hen on top of the bread mix.
Garnish with sliced chives and a drizzle of nice olive oil.
Serve the Cornish hen with the Panzenella salad immediately.
Comorin’s a road trip through India’s soul, dishing out comfort food and curveballs that’ll make you double-take. Brand chef Dhiraj Dargan’s the guy steering this ship, keeping an eye on every new outpost. Before Comorin, he climbed the ranks to executive sous chef at EHV International’s crown jewel, Indian Accent, and logged time with Old World Hospitality, bouncing between their spots at the India Habitat Centre. He’s got the kind of resume that hums—Indian roots tangled up with European finesse and a splash of Lebanese flair.
Now, at Comorin, Dargan’s zeroed in on Indian comfort, the stuff that warms you from the inside out, while digging into the country’s lesser-known corners for combos you didn’t see coming. Think familiar spices twisted into something strange and beautiful. He’s got the chops for it—polished at I.H.M. Pusa in New Delhi with a Hotel Management diploma that’s more than just paper. Dargan’s not here to play it safe; he’s rifling through India’s pantry, pulling out oddball pairings that stick with you. Comorin’s less a restaurant, more a love letter to the subcontinent—messy, heartfelt, and full of surprises you’ll want to taste twice.
Thai Pavilion at Taj City Centre Gurugram is a portal to Thailand’s royal kitchens, steered by Juab, the Thai wizard formally known as Prajuab Shoosridam. With over 20 years of heat under his belt, this Phatthalung native’s been a Taj fixture since 2006, after cutting his teeth in Phuket and Langkawi’s steamy woks.
Juab’s a maestro of the five-flavor tightrope— spicy, sour, sweet, salty, bitter—and every dish is a high-note juggle. He’s fed Mandela and Chirac, but it’s his family’s whispers that fuel him, blending old Thai secrets with a sly, modern twist. Think lemongrass cutting through creamy curry, or a chili bite softened by palm sugar’s sigh.
The room’s a stunner—teak walls carved with Bangkok’s regal ghosts, artifacts glowing under soft light, a Zen hush that cradles the food’s fireworks. Juab’s menu sings—classics like tom yum, reborn with royal finesse, paired with wines that hum along.
Two private nooks offer five-course prix-fixe escapes, intimate as a whisper. Thai Pavilion’s no tourist trap; it’s Juab’s love letter to Thailand, a place where authenticity dances with art, and every bite lands like a quiet, fiery poem.
ABHISHEK GUPTA
Zanotta’s perched up there in Gurugram’s Leela Ambience, gazing out over the Millennium city like it’s got a ruby-and-pearl VIP pass. This isn’t just a restaurant—it’s a front-row seat to Italian gusto, with an open kitchen where chefs sling pasta and charisma in equal measure. You can lean in, trade small talk, and watch them sweat over your meal with that operatic flair only Italians muster.
The place is a still life of abundance—vibrant veg, jars of pickles that look like they’ve been brining since Nonna’s day, and pasta so fresh it practically winks at you. Abhishek Gupta, the maestro here, has cooked in kitchens that’d make lesser chefs quake, and his menu’s a love song to Italy— antipasti that zing, daily specials that shift like the tide, and mains that land like a warm hug. Try the Fritto misto di mare, a crispy sea-shamble, or the Branzino crocante, fish with a crunch that sings. Asparagi Tortelloni? Pure silk. Filetto di Salmone? Pink perfection.
The vibe’s sleek, modern, with a wine cellar flexing bottles from Tuscany to Tasmania—grappas, too, for when you’re feeling bold. Gupta’s out to surprise, and he does. Bring a fat wallet and an empty stomach. You’ll leave humming.
VISHAL KUMAR YADAV
Zvatra’s a rowdy love song to Haryana, Rajasthan, Old Delhi, and Punjab, tucked into a vibe that feels like a village elder’s kitchen got a glow-up. Vishal Kumar Yadav’s the ringmaster, a guy who doesn’t just cook—he stitches your soul back together with every bite. This isn’t dainty fusion; it’s the real deal—bajre ki roti that’s nutty and tough, Jodhpuri kabuli rich with spice, chole that hums Punjab, and nihari dripping Old Delhi’s slow, meaty growl.
The thalis are the heart: Shakahaari’s a veggie riot—bajre ki raab warming your gut, hare pyaaz kebabs green and smoky, dhouj ka matar paneer creamy with peas, all flanked by jeera pulao and a mewe wali kheer that’s sweet like a secret.
The Mansahaari hits harder—sigdi wali machhli charred and fierce, Mewati deg ka meat falling apart, jeere elaichi chicken fragrant and bold.
Vishal’s not here to impress; he’s feeding you memories, pulling recipes from the dirt and hearth, tweaking just enough to wake them up. The room buzzes with village charm—rough edges, warm hands—and every plate’s a story of North India’s wild, soulful sprawl.
Zvatra’s no trend-chaser; it’s a homecoming, loud with ghee and grit.
SCAMORZA ARANCINI
by Manuel Olveira LA PANTHERA
Scamorza arancini, or risotto balls with smoked cheese, are a delicious Italian dish that combines creamy risotto with the distinct flavour of scamorza cheese, typically smoked.
INGREDIENTS
Risotto
1 cup Arborio rice
4 cups chicken or vegetable broth (heated)
1 small onion (finely chopped)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 cup white wine (optional)
Salt and pepper for seasoning
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1 cup Scamorza cheese, diced or shredded
Fresh parsley, chopped (optional)
Breading
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 large eggs (beaten)
2 cups breadcrumbs (preferably Italian-style)
Oil for frying (vegetable or canola oil)
Method
Prepare the Risotto
In a large pan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the chopped onion and sauté until translucent. Add the Arborio rice and toast it for about 2 minutes, stirring constantly.
If using, pour in the white wine and let it simmer until absorbed.
Gradually add the warm broth, one ladle at a time, stirring continuously until the liquid is absorbed before adding more. This should take about 18-20 minutes until the rice is al dente.
Remove from heat and stir in the Parmesan and scamorza cheese. Season with salt and pepper. If desired, add fresh parsley. Let it cool completely.
Form the Arancini
Once the risotto is cool, take a small amount (about the size of a golf ball) and flatten it in your hand.
Place a small piece of scamorza cheese in the centre and encase it by rolling the risotto into a ball. Ensure the cheese is completely covered.
Repeat until all the risotto is used.
Bread the Arancini
Set up a breading station with three bowls: one with flour, one with beaten eggs, and one with breadcrumbs.
Roll each arancini ball in flour, then dip it in the egg, and finally coat it in breadcrumbs.
Fry the Arancini
In a deep frying pan, heat oil over medium-high heat (about 350°F or 175°C).
Fry the arancini in batches until golden brown and crispy, about 3-4 minutes.
Remove and drain on paper towels.
Serving
Serve the scarmoza arancini hot, with a dipping sauce like marinara or aioli.
Enjoy your delicious homemade arancini.
KAUSHAL KISHOR SINGH
Celeste, perched in Hyderabad’s Taj Falaknuma Palace, is a love letter to Italian and Mediterranean cooking, dialed up for palates that don’t mess around. Kaushal Kishor Singh, the sous chef steering this ship, landed with the IHCL group in 2023, and he’s got the kind of chops that turn a kitchen into a stage. His style? Think of it as music— classics remixed with modern beats, a menu that swings from old-school to wild-card combos that shouldn’t work but do, brilliantly.
Singh’s running the Italian show here, and it’s a symphony of fresh—seasonal stuff, top-shelf produce, no shortcuts. He’s slinging homemade pastas that hit like a warm embrace, drowned in rich tomato sauces or creamy risottos that stick to your ribs. Artisanal cheeses play backup, while Mediterranean and Asian riffs—think soy-kissed noodles, bright salads, silky dips—sneak onto the plate. There’s a five-course Italian set menu, a chef-crafted lineup with a vegetarian nod, but the real star? The lobster ravioli—little pockets of decadence that make you wonder why you’d eat anything else. It’s hearty, it’s precise, it’s a meal that hums. Celeste doesn’t just feed you—it sings to you, loud and clear.
VINOD SINGH
Jamun is a full-throated shout-out to India’s sprawling food map, with Vinod Singh at the helm, a chef who’s logged over a decade digging into the country’s culinary veins. Singh’s not here to mess around—he’s got a fire for turning humble ingredients into dishes that hit like a monsoon. Leading his crew with a steady hand, he’s built a kitchen that hums with purpose, churning out plates that snag praise like it’s second nature.
The menu’s a road trip through India’s heartland— forgotten recipes clawing their way back, alongside heavy hitters that sting with spice, soothe with subtlety, or pucker with sour. It’s not one-note; it’s a chorus, pulling from every corner of the subcontinent. Singh’s all about the real stuff— fresh hauls, old-school methods, no shortcuts. Think of it as a tribute to the chaos and beauty of Indian cooking, where every bite’s a postcard from somewhere deep.
Jamun’s mission? Quality that doesn’t waver, creativity that doesn’t sleep, and a ride across India’s flavorscape that leaves you full and a little dizzy. Singh’s not just feeding you—he’s dragging you along for the trip. Step in. Buckle up. Taste the sprawl.
BLACK COD MISO
by Masaharu Morimoto
WASABI BY MORIMOTO
Black Cod Miso has gained fame due to its exceptional flavour profile and the culinary mastery of Masaharu Morimoto. The dish features black cod marinated in a blend of miso, sake, and sugar, creating a perfect harmony of sweet and savoury that enhances the fish’s rich texture. Anecdotes from guests highlight memorable dining experiences, such as a celebrity chef recounting how this dish left a lasting impression on their palate, prompting them to replicate it in their own kitchen, while food critics praise it for encapsulating the essence of Japanese cuisine blended with modern flair. Morimoto’s meticulous cooking methods and high-quality ingredients, combined with his status as a culinary icon, contribute to the dish’s legendary reputation, making Black Cod Miso a must-try for diners seeking a taste experience that beautifully merges tradition with innovation.
INGREDIENTS
180g black cod
100g miso
20g su miso
10g balsamic
5g pickled pepper
5g kuramame
Method
Marinade the black cod in the miso and store overnight.
Remove from the marinade and remove excess miso.
Bake in oven skin side down for 6 minutes, remove and let cool.
Remove the bones with a bone remover . Place on a platter skin side up and bake again for 6 minutes.
Drizzle the serving dish with su miso and balsamic. Place the pickled pepper and kuramame on the plate.
Remove the cod from the oven and place in the centre of the dish.
PANKAJ KUMAR
Cinnamon at Jai Mahal Palace isn’t just a meal— it’s a plunge into the princely deep end, where India’s royal kitchens strut their stuff. Rajputana’s rugged spice, Awadh’s silken finesse, Hyderabad’s fiery pomp—they’re all here, pulled from dusty recipe tomes and plated with a swagger that’d make a Maharaja nod. The room’s a looker, too—Jaipur’s old grandeur tarted up with modern polish, a backdrop that turns every bite into a coronation.
But the real crown? The Bajot dining gig—a private nook where you’re king for a night. It’s intimate, fussy in the best way, with a bespoke menu that’s less food, more time travel. Think regal feasts reborn with Pankaj Kumar: curries thick with history, meats that hum with slow fire, every dish a bow to the courts of yore. The service? Whiteglove sharp, hovering just right, like you’ve got a retinue on speed dial. You’re not eating—you’re holding court, spoon in hand.
This is royal India, unfiltered—opulent, sure, but alive, not embalmed. Cinnamon doesn’t mess around; it’s a gateway to a past that still tastes damn good. Book the Bajot. Sink in. You’ll leave stuffed and a little imperious. That’s the point.
HAYAT SINGH
Peshwari at ITC Rajputana in Jaipur isn’t your average curry stop—it’s a Northwest Frontier bunker where stone walls and log partitions growl with rustic charm. The mudda seating hugs you low, the black-and-orange glow flickers like a campfire, and you half-expect a bandit to stroll in. Master Chef Hayat, with 27 years of tandoor scars, took the reins in 2018, and his crew churns out dishes that hit like a dust storm of flavor.
The tandoori aloo—hollowed spuds stuffed with potato mash, cashews, and green chilies—roars out of the clay oven with a smoky snarl. Subz khasta wraps spiced veggies in ajwain-laced dough, crisp and fragrant as a bazaar morning. Dal Bukhara, simmered into inky richness, begs for butter naan to sop it up.
For meatheads, the murgh malai kabab melts like a whisper, while the machli tikka—fish swaddled in ginger-garlic and curd—sings with quiet fire. Then there’s the sikandari raan, a whole lamb leg braised in cinnamon and black cumin, so tender it collapses under its own swagger. Peshwari’s not polite—it’s a full-on, spice-dusted brawl of a meal, served with the kind of grit that’d make a Rajput warrior nod in approval.
CHINMAYA
Rajmahal at The Oberoi Rajvilas in Jaipur is a palace where Chinmaya Narasimiah, a goldmedal Oberoi grad, digs into India’s culinary roots like an archaeologist with a spatula. This guy’s trekked the subcontinent, hauling back flavors from Kashmir’s morel-dotted hills to Tamil Nadu’s toddy-soaked shores, and he’s not here to play small. The room’s a stunner—sandstone fireplaces flickering, a courtyard hugging old trees—but it’s the food that steals the show.
Narasimiah’s a historian with a stove, slow-cooking Champaran meat in clay pots till it sighs with spice, or teasing prawn balchao with vinegar that stings just right. He’s obsessed with the real stuff—lotus roots, wild grains—turning remote recipes into something you’d fight over.
Then there’s the bread mission: bajra roti with its nutty chew, khameeri puffed and yeasty, khoba roti gridded like desert art. Forget naan’s tired reign—Chinmaya’s rewriting the script, proving India’s bread game is vast and fierce.
The menu’s a map, deconstructed one dish, reborn the next, but always tethered to the land. Rajmahal’s no nostalgia trap—it’s a bold, lavish love letter to India’s past, served with a wink toward tomorrow, and every bite’s a history lesson you’ll want seconds of.
Suvarna Mahal’s a golden relic, a Rajput fever dream carved into Rambagh Palace’s bones. Once the Maharajas’ banquet hall, it’s been flexing its regal chops since ’57, when the palace went luxe. Back in the day, one monstrous table sat 80, each diner shadowed by a butler—service so grand it’d make a peacock blush. The room could swallow 160 souls, drowning them in silk walls, Venetian chandeliers, and frescoes painted by some Italian POW under Swinton Jacob’s hawk-eye. Sir Anthony Millbank stitched it all together, a Rajput-European mash-up that’s pure swagger—high ceilings, antique mirrors, Victorian glitz meets desert valor.
But it’s the food that crowns this palace. Rajasthan’s fiery curries, Awadh’s slow-simmered secrets, Hyderabad’s spice-laced swagger—they’re not just dishes, they’re heirlooms, yanked from royal kitchens and plated with a wink to history. Every bite’s a time capsule—lamb that hums with old battle cries, gravies thick as palace intrigue. The opulence isn’t just in the chandeliers; it’s in the flavours, bold and unapologetic, like the rulers who once ruled here.
Suvarna Mahal’s no museum piece—it’s alive, a dining hall where the past struts into the present. Sit. Eat. Feel the weight of a crown you’ll never wear. Jaipur’s soul is on the menu.
SONU SINGH
The Johri in Jaipur’s jeweler-packed maze isn’t just a hotel—it’s a 19th-century haveli whispering secrets, with a restaurant that’s a vegetarian hymn to Rajasthan’s sunbaked soul. Sonu Singh runs the show, a kitchen poet slinging organic, farm-fresh dishes that feel like the Pink City’s heartbeat on a plate. This isn’t tourist bait; it’s home for anyone who gets weak for real flavor.
The rajma galouti’s a star—kidney beans slowcooked into submission, mashed with spices, then seared on a tawa till the outside snaps and the inside melts like a sigh. Perched on flatbread, it’s a lentil love song, earthy and plush, with a crunch that sneaks up on you. Then there’s the baingan ka saalan—eggplants roasted smoky, swimming in a nutty, coconutty gravy spiked with sesame and a tamarind zing. It’s creamy, tangy, a little wild, the aubergine soaking up the sauce like it’s got stories to tell.
The haveli’s bones—old stone, warm light—wrap it all in a hug, making every bite a dip into Jaipur’s gutsy past. Sonu’s not chasing trends; he’s feeding you Rajasthan, bold and tender, like a family recipe you didn’t know you needed.
MEETHA ACHAAR SPARE RIB
SUN-DRIED MANGO AND TOASTED ONION SEEDS
I’ve always pictured pork spare ribs as a sticky, sweet and juicy dish. This dish raises a toast to my first job as a chef in a South-east Asian restaurant. I have added an Indian twist with a sweet mango pickle sauce, and this dish is a bestseller at the restaurant from the day we opened. I chose the sweet mango pickle as it is available in almost every Indian kitchen all through the year. For this dish, use meaty pork ribs without too much fat.
by Shantanu Mehrotra INDIAN ACCENT
Method Spare Ribs
INGREDIENTS
Spare Ribs
200g pork spare ribs
500ml coconut milk
3 tbsp corn flour
Mango Pickle Sauce
2 tsp ginger (chopped)
2 tsp garlic (chopped)
1 tsp toasted onion seeds
1/2 tsp fennel seeds
1/2 tsp crushed black pepper
11/2 tbsp sweet mango pickle (chopped)
1/2 tsp red chilli flakes
Salt for seasoning
1 tbsp oil
Plating
1 tsp lime juice
1 tbsp coriander leaves (chopped)
1 tbsp aam papad (chopped, as garnish)
Boil the whole rack of ribs in very thin coconut milk. This not only adds a rich, sweet taste to the meat, it also helps reduce the fatty smell, which the Indian palate is not too comfortable with. If you prefer, you can boil the rack in water. I prefer not to cut the rack into individual ribs before boiling, as the meat then has a tendency to disintegrate off the bone.
When boiled, remove and place the rack in the refrigerator to chill. This will make it easier to cut the ribs, which may break if cut when hot. When cooled, carve out individual rib pieces. Dust with corn flour and fry till golden brown.
Mango Pickle Sauce
Heat oil in a heavy bottom pan, sauté chopped ginger and garlic, onion seeds, fennel seeds, crushed black pepper and mango pickle. Add a spoonful of water to make it a syrupy, textured, thick sauce. Add red chilli flakes and adjust seasoning.
Plating
Toss the fried ribs in the sauce till all the pieces are well coated. Take off the flame. Add chopped coriander leaves and a dash of lime juice. Arrange on a platter. Garnish with chopped sweet or sour aam papad.
SURESH PILLAI
Meen by Chef Pillai in Kochi is a tidal wave of seafood swagger, where the ocean’s haul gets a master’s touch. This is Pillai’s turf, a Kerala-born legend with three decades of grit, from Ashtamudi Lake’s quiet shores to global kitchens like the BBC’s MasterChef Professionals.
He’s slung fish from England to the Caribbean, but Meen’s his crown—part of his 13-strong Chef Pillai Group, born from a dream hatched back in ’95 at Coconut Grove. Here, the catch rules: fish so fresh it practically wiggles, shellfish that snaps with brine, all jazzed up with his signature Fish Nirvana—a dish that’s half revelation, half knockout.
Pillai’s not messing around—every plate’s a coastal hymn, spiked with innovation but rooted in the sea’s raw pulse. Think succulent pomfret with a spice crust or prawns that hum with coconut and heat, each bite a plunge into flavor’s deep end.
The room buzzes with his passion—unfussy, fierce, a chef’s life poured into every glistening morsel. Meen’s no polite nibble; it’s a full-on seafood brawl, Pillai’s love letter to the shore, served loud and delicious in the garden city.
CRISPY PORK BELLY
by Eric Sifu KOKO
INGREDIENTS
1.2 kg pork belly
1 lemon
Salt for seasoning
100ml vinegar
100g homemade pork rub
Method
Score the pork belly skin carefully to create even incisions. Blanch the pork belly in boiling water for 2 to 3 minutes. Remove and pat dry.
Use a meat fork or tenderizer to gently puncture the flesh for better seasoning penetration.
Generously rub a homemade pork seasoning mix onto the meat
Apply a mixture of salt and vinegar to the skin twice, ensuring it’s evenly coated.
Place the pork belly on a wire rack and air dry overnight in the refrigerator.
Roast the pork belly skin-side up for 40 minutes at 170°C (338°F)
Increase the temperature to 220°C (428°F) and roast for an additional 10 minutes, or until the skin is crispy and golden.
Transfer the pork belly to a cooling rack and let it rest for 5 minutes.
Cut into even slices and serve hot with mustard and plum sauce on the side.
Enjoy the perfect balance of juicy meat and crispy crackling.
SUSHANTA SENGUPTA
“Quality product comes from quality ingredients”— that’s the gospel according to Sushanta Sengupta, the chef and mastermind behind 6, Ballygunge Place. Raised in Delhi, schooled at Kolkata’s Institute of Hotel Management, Sengupta kicked off as an oriental chef before breaking free in ’98. He built a catering empire, juggling everything from bulk cooking to healthy home-style grub for corporate lunch crowds. Then came the real test: Bengali cuisine. With his crew, he dove deep— grilling home cooks, mining forgotten cookbooks, sweating through trials—to birth the menu at 6, Ballygunge Place.
Housed in a century-old bungalow, the flagship sprawls across two floors, its walls dripping with Bengali art and artifacts. Sharbari Datta’s custom crockery is a quiet flex—every detail sings. Sengupta’s obsession with consistency and flavor turned this spot into a Kolkata icon. You’ll taste it in the mustard-laced fish, the slow-simmered mutton, the rice that hums with nostalgia.
The place doesn’t rest on its laurels—regular food festivals with culinary hotshots keep the menu electric, tossing curveballs to a city that thought it knew Bengali cooking. Two decades in, the awards pile up, but the real proof’s in the packed tables. Sengupta’s not just feeding people; he’s rewriting the script on what Bengali food can be. Grab a plate. You’ll get it.
HITESH HINDUJA
Ottimo at ITC Royal Bengal in Kolkata isn’t just Italian—it’s Italy with a passport and a sly grin. This place, helmed by Hitesh Hinduja since 2021, dishes out plates that feel like Nonna’s kitchen got a makeover from a modernist with a twinkle in his eye. Hinduja’s been climbing the ITC ladder since 2018, and at Ottimo, he’s turned Italian cooking into a high-stakes love affair—simple, balanced, but never boring.
Think ravioli that hums with ricotta and sage, or a risotto so creamy it could charm the socks off a skeptic. He’s a stickler for the good stuff—sourcing tomatoes that burst like summer, olive oil that’s liquid gold—then layers it slow and low, letting flavors build like a Verdi opera. Tradition’s his backbone, but he’s not afraid to riff: a classic osso buco might sidle up to a sauce with a modern kick. Seasonal produce calls the shots— spring means asparagus, winter brings truffles— keeping the menu as alive as a Roman market.
Hinduja’s food doesn’t shout; it seduces, weaving old-school Italian soul with a Kolkata pulse. Ottimo’s a pilgrimage for anyone chasing Italy’s truest bite, served with a side of Bengal’s humid embrace.
AVINANDAN KUNDU
KOYEL ROY NANDY
Sienna’s a Kolkata jewel, a Hindustan Park haunt where Avinandan Kundu and Koyel Roy Nandy sling Bengal’s soul onto plates with a devil-maycare grin. It’s not some prim tea shop—it’s a “baajar-to-table” brawl, pulling fresh loot from local markets and spinning it into dishes that whisper grandma’s secrets while kicking modern dust. Started over two decades back in Shanti Niketan as a ceramics gig, it morphed eight years ago into this cafe-store mash-up, and now it’s a food-first legend.
Kundu and Nandy, co-head chefs with a knack for the wild, don’t just cook—they excavate. Think chola’r dal hummus with nimki, a duck kobiraji that struts, or bhekti a la Kiev—fish doing a chicken impression. Golda chingri and maach’r dim XO rice hit that East-West Bengali nerve, while malai toast brulee lands like a street snack gone rogue. It’s Bengal-forward, sure, but it’s got Bangladeshi echoes and a nod to sustainability—ilish and nolen gur treated like rare vinyl.
The space hums with handmade clay and nostalgia, a ceramics workshop turned tasting ground. Sienna’s no museum—it’s alive, messy, a family of cooks pushing boundaries. Kundu and Nandy aren’t serving meals; they’re dishing out memories, loud and unfiltered. Go. Eat. Hear the wind howl.
A GOAN CHRONICLE WILD BEET LEATHER RED AMARANTH
GOAT CHEESE CHEVRE CUMIN CHILLI LIME HINTS
COCONUT
by Jason DeSouza WHITE PLATE
The Goan Chronicle encompasses the rich vibrant heritage of Goa - the famed red amaranth with hints of cumin, lemon zest & coconut, however twisted with some goat cheese in a wild beet leather cigar. A Modern twisted rendition of an age old classic.
INGREDIENTS
Beetroot Leather Cylinder
1kg beetroot
450g sago
5g salt
2g sugar
Method
Soak the sago for minimum 3 hrs and then boil the sago till translucent.
Blend the translucent sago with beetroot, salt and sugar. Strain the mix once to remove any foreign particles. Spread the mix on the silicon mat and dehydrate the mix overnight.
Cut square pieces of the leather and store. Fry the pieces at 130C and then immediately take them out and turn them into a cylinder.
Repeat the process of frying if the cylinders get crispy.
Red Amaranth Mix Filling
500g red amaranth leaves
60g coconut grated
3g mustard seeds
2g curry leaves
5g green chilli
5g salt
Method
Heat the oil, and add the mustard seeds with curry leaves. Add the Shredded amaranth in the pan and add coconut in it.
Add slit green chilli, salt in it, and let rest aside. Remove the chili out and use the mix as the filling inside the cylinder.
ARINDEM BASU
Tucked into a forest that feels like a secret, Kaanan at The Oberoi Sukhvilas Spa Resort in New Chandigarh is no polished dining hall—it’s a roughhewn gem dripping with old-world pull. Goldpainted walls, gilded doors, and vintage lanterns throw a warm haze, while outside, frangipani trees canopy fire pits and cozy seats that beg for latenight confessions. It’s rustic, sure, but it’s got a pulse.
The menu’s Punjabi to the bone, but it’s no museum piece—Chef Basu twists it with a sly hand. You start with gaajar aur patta gobhi ka achaar and a kooky onion pickle that scream fields and hearth. Then the heavy hitters: khushk mahi kebab, fish kissed by spices and seared smoky on an iron griddle, or khubani ka gosht, lamb shanks stewed with apricots till they’re earthy and tender. Seafood fiends get sarson ki talli machchli—beerbattered, fried crisp, with a pomegranate-onion chutney that zings. Spice junkies? Peeli mirch ka murgh, yellow chilies and mustard oil making chicken sing loud.
Kaanan’s not just food—it’s a plunge into Punjab’s guts, remixed with flair, served in a forest hideaway that feels alive. Nature and flavor tangle here, and you won’t leave the same.
CRACKED POTATOES
CAULIFLOWER MASIYAL
INGREDIENTS
Cracked Potatoes
1 kg potatoes (boiled and broken into small pieces)
150g corn flour
10g salt
5g pepper
50g hot and spicy marinade
300g oil for frying Spice mix, as required
Cauliflower Masiyal (Mousse)
1000g cauliflower florets
500ml milk
150g cream
100g butter
3g black pepper powder
5g garlic (chopped)
5g cloves
100g onions studded with bay leaf and cloves
5g salt
Hibiscus Dust and Micro greens
10g hibiscus (dried and powdered)
20g micro greens
Curry Leaf Oil
100g oil
10g curry leaves
by Harish Rao HOSA
Method
Cracked Potatoes
Boil the potatoes until fork-tender, cool slightly, and break into small chunks. In a bowl, combine the potatoes with corn flour, salt, and pepper, ensuring an even coating. Heat oil in a deep pan and fry the coated potatoes until crispy and golden brown. Drain on paper towels and sprinkle with spice mix before setting aside.
Cauliflower Masiyal
In a stockpot, melt butter over medium heat. Add chopped garlic and sauté briefly. Pour in milk, then add the onion studded with bay leaf and cloves. Bring to a boil. Add cauliflower florets and black pepper powder, allowing them to cook thoroughly. Once the cauliflower is soft and the milk has reduced, remove from heat and let cool. Blend the mixture into a smooth paste, incorporating cream for a velvety consistency. Keep warm.
Curry Leaf Oil
Heat oil in a pan and fry curry leaves until crisp. Blend the mixture and strain to obtain fragrant curry leaf-infused oil. Set aside.
Serving
Arrange the crispy cracked potatoes on a serving plate. Spoon the creamy cauliflower masiyal beside the potatoes. Lightly dust with hibiscus powder for a vibrant touch. Drizzle curry leaf oil over the dish for added depth and aroma. Garnish with fresh micro greens for a final burst of freshness.
Picture this: a leafy corner of Pune’s Koregaon Park, where the bylanes twist like a noodle strand, and Malaka Spice sits like a steamy jewel box of Southeast Asian funk. Praful Chandawarkar ditched the pinstripes of investment banking, grabbed his wife Cheeru—a kitchen sorceress— and said, “Let’s cook.” They roamed Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, scooping up chile heat, lemongrass tang, and the sticky sweetness of palm sugar, then stitched it all into a menu that rewrote Pune’s dining playbook.
Before anyone here knew satay from sashimi, Cheeru was slinging Peranakan curries and Nyonya spice bombs, tweaking them with a wink of invention. Think laksa with a swagger, or duck rendang that hums with kaffir lime. They grow their own greens at Cherish Farm—basil so fresh it practically sings, galangal that bites back.
Now, chefs Sailendra and Madhu carry the torch, dreaming up stuff like Malaka Coconut Pandan Tres Leches—a dessert so lush it’s like a tropical fever dream. This isn’t just food; it’s a passport stamped with fish sauce and coconut milk, a sweaty, delicious romp through Southeast Asia’s backroads. Malaka Spice doesn’t serve meals—it hands you a map, a spoon, and a grin.
UMA ATHAI CURRY
by Ajay Samtani
THE
TANORE TIFFIN ROOM
INGREDIENTS
1/2 cup sesame oil
5g fennel seeds
1 cinnamon stick of 1 inch.
3 medium sized onions (julienne)
1 tomato (julienne)
2 green chilli (slit in half)
5g turmeric powder
5g cumin powder
5g coriander powder
Salt for seasoning
15g mutton masala
5g red chilli powder
15g ginger garlic paste
5g mint leaves (chopped)
5g coriander leaves
500g chicken leg boneless
Method
In the kadai (wok) add oil until it heats up. Add the cinnamon stick, fennel seeds, onions and green chilles. Sauté until onions are transparent. Add the ginger garlic paste and cook for few minutes. Then add tomato and let it cook for two minutes. Add the chicken and let it cook for few minutes.
Add salt, turmeric powder, coriander, cumin, mutton masala, chilli powder and mix well. Add hot water and bring to a boil.
Once it boils, reduce the heat and simmer until gravy has thickened and the chicken is cooked.
Remove from heat and garnish with chopped coriander and mint leaves.
Serve with rice, idli, dosa, parotta or appam.
SHRADDHA BHONSLE
The Sawantwadi Palace Hotel isn’t just a royal pile—it’s a kitchen kingdom where Yuvraj Lakham Bhonsle and Yuvrani Shraddha Bhonsle, Culinary Institute of America alums, turn heritage into a hell of a meal. This isn’t some dusty relic; it’s a living shout to Maharashtra’s soul, with India’s vast pantry thrown in for kicks. Breakfast here’s a globetrotting riot—Sawantwadi Special Eggs Benedict, all coconut-chilli sass on a croissant, or Cut Wada that crunches like a local secret. Pancakes fluff up alongside Maharashtrian grit, a wake-up call with roots.
Lunch? That’s where the thalis flex—crisp fish fry, sol kadhi that cools the fire, Kolhapuri mutton packing heat, ghavnes whispering of old village stoves. Pickles line up like a spice parade, pure India on a plate. Then dinner hits, a seven-course Asian odyssey courtesy of Shraddha’s road-worn palate—ramen so good it could headline, gyoza that bite back, a Po’ Boy riff that’s Sawantwadi gone rogue. She cooks from the gut, no measuring spoons, just hustle and heart.
Lakham’s the closer—pastry wizardry that’s half science, half art, desserts plated like jewels with local loot woven in. This palace feeds you history, sure, but it’s the Bhonsles’ love-soaked craft that sticks. Eat here. Taste a dynasty reborn.
SWEET CORN KHICHDI
SEM KE BEEJ, CHUTNEY
by Dhiraj Dargan COMORIN
INGREDIENTS
Khichdi
250g sweet corn kernels
45g desi ghee
2.5g cumin seeds
1g asafoetida
2.5g fresh ginger (chopped)
2.5g fresh green chili (chopped)
1g turmeric powder
100ml full fat milk
1og processed cheese
2g chaat masala
Salt for seasoning
Serving
5g mint chutney
5g saunth chutney
5g sem ke bee
2 khakhra
Method
Boil the milk and keep it aside to cool. Reserve half of the sweet corn kernels, purée the other half with milk in a food processor and keep it aside.
In a pan, heat ghee, temper it with cumin seeds. Add the ginger and green chili. Sauté for a few minutes
Add a pinch of asafoetida, a pinch of turmeric. Add a couple of tablespoons of water and cook out the turmeric.
Add the sweet corn kernels. Stir. Add sweet corn purée. Cook the mixture for 3 to 5 minutes. Add the chaat masala.
Finish with grated processed cheese. Taste and check seasoning and add salt if required.
Serving
In a shallow serving dish, transfer the sweet corn khichdi. Garnish it with mint chutney and tamarind chutney on top and sprinkle some sem ka beej.
Enjoy it with khakra.
Bhairo’s named for the wind—that restless Mewar mischief-maker, slipping through marble halls, eavesdropping on royal whispers, and stirring Lake Pichola’s glassy skin. Up here, atop the Taj Lake Palace, it’s like dining in a fable. The Aravalis loom, the City Palace glares across the water, and you’re caught in a spell—part emperor’s guest, part starstruck drifter. This isn’t just a restaurant; it’s a perch where history hums in the breeze.
The food? European finesse crashing into palace pomp, a lovechild of old-world courts and modern craft. Every dish feels like a secret spilled under moonlight—flavors sharp and regal, echoing banquets where poets toasted and schemers schemed. A sauce might carry a French lilt, but it’s got the gravitas of a Maharana’s feast; a cut of meat could’ve graced a king’s table, refined but never fussy. You’re eating under the stars, the night air thick with tales, and that wind—Bhairo himself—riffles through, tying it all together.
This is no casual bite. It’s a plunge into elegance, where the past doesn’t just linger—it sits down with you. Let the lake glitter, the mountains watch. Bhairo’s a whisper you taste. Lean in. Listen with your fork.
SHIVAKUMAR
Udaimahal at The Oberoi Udaivilas in Udaipur isn’t just dinner—it’s a royal fling under a dome painted like a starry night, with Shivakumar Krishna conducting the feast. This guy’s an Executive Chef with a decade-plus of wizardry, a name carved in gastronomic gold, and he’s all about the good stuff: free-range meats, fruits that drop ripe from the tree, veggies kissed by the sun. For him, food’s art, a canvas of innovation splashed with health and heat.
The room’s a stunner—blue, green, and gold swirling like Rajasthan’s pulse, Lake Pichola shimmering outside, City Palace winking in the distance. Live music hums, dancers sway, and the Oberoi’s silent service glides like a ghost.
Open only at night, Udaimahal digs into royal Rajasthani kitchens—think slow-simmered laal maas with a kick, or a thali that’s half history, half spice bomb. Krishna’s menu, born from meticulous snooping in princely cookbooks, reinvents classics without losing their soul.
The courtyard’s an al fresco dream, breeze off the lake adding drama to every bite. This isn’t casual grub—it’s a starry-eyed plunge into India’s opulent past, served with a chef’s grin and a view that’ll break your heart.
LEMON MERINGUE TART
by Jeneva Talwar CAFÉ LADIDA
INGREDIENTS
Tart Base
125g icing sugar
375g flour
250g butter 1 egg
Method
Sieve icing sugar and flour. Put in a kitchen aid or any planetary mixer with the paddle attachment. Slowly add cold cubed butter. Mix till everything comes together. Then add egg. Make this mixture into dough. Cling wrap this dough and refrigerate for minimum 4 hours. Take out your desired tart shells. Roll out this dough with a help of some flour to a 3 mm thickness. Cut with a cutter just a little bigger than your tart shell. Place the dough in tart shell. Press the base and sides gently. Scrape the excess with a knife Use a fork to make a few punctures in this tart shell to keep it from rising from the middle while baking. Cook for 15 to 20 minutes at 180 C pre heated oven. Cool
Lemon Curd Base
63g Butter
150g Castor sugar
6 Egg yolks
10 Lemons (juice)
Method
Put all ingredients in a bowl that fits in a double boiler. Mix gently till all ingredients come together. Place this bowl to cook on a medium flame double boiler stirring every once in a while. Do not leave it unattended for too long. Cook till thick or till the lemon curd coats the back of a spoon. Cool
French Meringue
100g egg whites
200g castor sugar
Method
Whip egg whites till slightly stiff. Slowly add the castor sugar. Keep whipping till meringue reaches stiff peaks
Assembly
Brush melted butter to the cooled base of the cooked tart shell to seal in the moisture. Spoon the lemon curd onto the tart shell. Pipe the meringue as desired. Serve.
photo credits
ALL PHOTOGRAPHS ARE COPYRIGHT
3: ©DIVYA BALIVADA
4: ©COLLAGE RESTAURANTS/CHEFS DISHES
8: ©COLLAGE RESTAURANTS/CHEFS DISHES
10-11: ©DAKSH CHINDALIA & ©VINAYAK GROVER
12-13: ©CELINI
14-15: ©EKAA
16-17: ©EVE
18-19: © GOLDEN DRAGON
20-21: ©KOKO
22-25: ©LA LOCA MARIA
26-27: ©LA PANTHERA
28-29: ©ROHAN HANDE & ©MASQUE
30-31: ©MIZU IZAKAYA
32-33: ©O PEDRO
34: ©THE BOMBAY CANTEEN
36-37: ©PAPA’S
38-39: ©PING’S CAFE ORIENT
40-41: ©QUE SERA SERA
42-43: ©TANGO TAMARI
44-45: ©TAT
46-47: ©THE BOMBAY CANTEEN
48-49: ©THE DIMSUM ROOM
50-51: ©THE TABLE
52-53: ©THE TANJORE TIFFIN ROOM
54-55: ©TOAST PASTA BAR
56-57: ©VETRO
58-59: ©WASABI BY MORIMOTO
60-61: ©ZIYA
62: ©AVARTANA
64-65: ©3 PLAMS
66-67: ©CAFÉ LA DI DA
68-69: ©CASANONI
70-71: ©CAVATINA BY AVINASH MARTINS
72-73: ©FIREBACK
74-75: ©HELICONIA
76-77: ©HOSA
78-79: ©ISABELLA’S TAPAS BAR
80-81: ©JSAN
82-83: ©KEBABS & KURRIES
84-85: ©MAKUTSU
86-87: ©TEMPERO
88-89: ©WHITE PLATE BY CHEF JASON
90: ©BOTECO
92-93: ©BAOSHUAN
94-95: ©BUKHARA
96-97: ©DHILLI
98-99: ©DUM PUKHT
100-101: ©INDIAN ACCENT
102-103: ©INJA
104-105: ©LOYA
106-107: ©MEGU
108-109: ©ORIENT EXPRESS
110-111: ©SAZ - AMERICAN BRASSERIE
112: ©BURMA BURMA
114-115: ©THE GREEN HOUSE
116-117: ©YI JING
118: ©MAKUTSU
120-121: ©VINAYAK GROVER & ©BOTECO
122-123: ©CAJSA
124-125: ©DAKSHIN
126-127: ©KARAVALLI
128-129: ©NISHANT RATNAKAR & ©SHAUN D’SILVA
130-131: ©NORTH RASOI BY CHEF PILLAI
132: ©MIZU IZAKAYA
134-135: ©RESTAURANT CHEF PILLAI
136-137: ©WABI SABI
138: ©CASANONI
140-141: ©HOUSE OF MING
142-143: ©MACHAN
144: ©DHILLI
146-147: ©ANISE
148-149: ©AVARTANA
150-151: ©CHINA XO
152-153: ©PAN ASIAN
154-155: ©SOUTHERN SPICE
156: ©THE TABLE
158-159: ©COMORIN
160-161: ©THAI PACILION
162-163: ©ZANOTTA
164-165: ©ZVATRA
166: ©LA PANTHERA
168-169: ©CELESTE
170-171: ©JAMUN
172: © WASABI BY MORIMOTO
174-175: ©CINNAMON
176-177: ©PESHAWRI
178-179: ©RAJ MAHAL
180-181: ©SUVARNA MAHAL
182-183: ©THE JOHRI
184: ©INDIAN ACCENT
186-187: ©MEEN BY CHEF PILLAI
188: ©KOKO
190-191: ©6, BALLYGUNGE PLACE
192-193: ©OTTIMO
194-195: © SIENNA
196: ©WHITE PLATE BY JASON DESOUZA
198-199: ©KAANAN
200: ©HOSA
202-203: ©MALAKA SPICE
204: ©THE TANORE TIFFIN ROOM
206-207: ©SAWANTWADI PALACE HOTEL
208: ©COMORIN
210-211: ©BHAIRO
212-213: ©UDAIMAHAL
214: ©CAFÉ LADIDA
The recipes are presented in a clear and easy-to-follow way, with ingredients, methods, preparations and dish photographs.
All measures are level unless otherwise stated.
Gram - g
Millilitre - ml
Tablespoon - tbsp
Teaspoon - tsp
Conversions
1 teaspoon (tsp) = 5 ml / 5 g
3 teaspoons (tsp) = 1 tbsp / 15 ml / 15 g
1 tablespoon (tbsp) = 15 ml / 15 g
15 tablespoons (tbsp) = 1 cup / 225 ml
1 cup = 8 fluid oz. / 237 ml
1 pint = 2 cups = 473 ml
1 quart = 4 cups = 0.95 litres
1 ounce = 28 grams
1 pound = 454 grams
1 stick butter = ¼ cup
1 decilitre (dl) = 100ml
1 stick = 1 inch
Weight
1 gram = 0.035 ounces
100 grams = 3.5 ounces
500 grams = 1.1 pounds
1 kilogram = 35 ounces
Volume
5 millilitre = 1 teaspoon
15 millilitre = 1 tablespoon
240 millilitre = 1 cup or 8 fluid ounces
Liquid measures
8 fluid ounces = 1 cup = ½ pint = ¼ quart
16 fluid ounces = 2 cup = 1pint = ½ quart
Temperature
Conversion from Fahrenheit to Celsius: C = (F - 32) / 1.8
Conversion from Celsius to Fahrenheit: F = C x 1.8 + 32
150C = 302F
175C = 347F
190C = 374F
200C = 392F
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JAIPUR 182
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NEW DELHI 92
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