It’s that lazy hour on a weekday afternoon, when the only sounds on the busy ECR are the whoosh of fast cars and the roar of the Bay in the distance. Around the bend, boats chug through the Muttukadu backwaters.
Beyond the ample parking, the fragrance of wild flowers in bottles on the table, the glass-panelled open kitchen and the curios of two cows at the till looking on, Gossip Bistro’s decor is more than just that of a restaurant — it is an act of memory. For, on the walls are vintage postcards of the Eiffel Tower and vaudeville artistes from the American South, posters of Captain Morgan smiling over a cask of rum, Jim Morrison crooning from a graffiti-laden door, and a series of beautiful Industrial-era bulbs, reminiscent of a Nikola Tesla workshop, that slowly glow into life, all designed by the young couple that runs the place.
Music from the great years of rock filters in — Poison sings ‘Every Rose Has Its Thorn’ and Jefferson Airplane is pleading for ‘Somebody To Love’. It fades, however, when I call for the menu. The staff carries in a blackboard mounted on a easel, announcing pastas, pizzas and wraps, with no sign of the pages of the interesting menu I’d read online. My query about the varied platter, also featuring some exotically-named Indian dishes, is countered with a polite smile by the tie-wearing, apron-clad staff. Clearly, I’ve visited at the kitchen’s twilight hour between lunch and dinner, when the restaurant serves only short eats. A quick consultation with the friend, and we settle for a wrap with seer fish fried in beer batter, and another vegetarian wrap that comes stuffed like a cornucopia. A welcome drink that tastes as refreshing as a languid holiday arrives first. I’m still draining it like an Icelander holding on to the last vestiges of summer when the wraps arrive with a side of fries. The vegetarian version is warm, and the pleated end of the wrap is toasty, filled with corn kernels and a sauce that is rich and textured. The batter-fried seer fish is fresh, soft and the colour of copper. I chase the sweet-salty crumbs around the plate. We are done with what the black board has to offer, but clearly school’s not over yet.
I quietly call the staff, who calls the chef, to whom I explain that I’ve travelled far to taste the glories of his kitchen. He pauses thoughtfully and says he’d spin something despite the late hour. I spend the time dreaming of things from the menu. Could it be the herbed mozzarella sticks or the Madras cottage cheese fritters? Or, the prawn tempura with wasabi? Perhaps their famed twisted galouti kebabs, grilled vegetable provencale or tato at 42” — a spiced potato salad? A steaming-hot dish makes its way to the table. It is... ta-da — crab meat cakes. The presentation could win a beauty contest. The grilled spicy cakes are drenched in a downpour of mango chutney yoghurt, with peanut rice that could have been less pungent and more warm, and a fiery vinaigrette of saffron and jalapeno that needs constant dousing with water. Finely-shredded and lightly spiced, the crab cakes are brown, rich and intense.
And because we’ve travelled far, there’s dessert too. Elaneer payasam served in a chilled, scooped-out coconut. Sweet, fruity and wholesome, it makes the late lunch memorable.
