Dusk has crept in, finger-painting the sky with large blotches of vermillion and lilac. You can barely see it from the airy verandah of the Alliance Française de Chennai, though. The trees with dense foliage that skirt the main building curtain its façade as they branch towards the sky.
French classes are still on and the formica-topped tables of the cafe are mostly empty. However, the kitchen, at the end of a short corridor that leads off from the cafeteria is occupied. Yusuf Mohammed Khan, reaches into an ancient oven, pulls out a chocolate cake and plonks it on the counter. With its light, curling edges and dense chocolatey centre, the cake looks and smells delicious. “The chocolate cake is one of my classics,” laughs Yusuf as he divides the cake into generous slices. “And then of course, there is my lemon tea.”
The Alliance Française de Chennai has been part of the cityscape since 1953. “ I came here in 1996,” says Yusuf.
That was when the cafe’s offering changed drastically. Yusuf first began making and selling sandwiches, tea, pizzas and tea-cakes. Then, he began experimenting with donuts, tarts, chocolate cake and stuffed rolls. “I learnt everything on the job, discovering recipes and modifying them based on my requirement,” he smiles.
Memories and more
Not too much has changed as far as his menu is concerned, he says. What has changed is the culture and the people who come here. He recalls his early years spent here with great fondness — it was quieter and slower and there was space for long conversation and beauty. “Mobile phones weren’t so common back then and people had more time to relax and have fun. They would spend the whole day here,” says Yusuf.
V Balakrishnan, artistic director of Theatre Nisha, has been visiting the Alliance café since 2001. “We would hang out here during plays. Yusuf is a wonderful friend and theatre critic, who always has so many stories to tell us,” he says, recalling the biryani and birthday cake Yusuf had made on request. “I have never seen him angry or treat any customer differently, be it a little kid wanting a samosa or a movie star asking for a chutney sandwich,” says Balakrishnan.
The evening session of classes is over and students have begun milling at the counter, in search of a quick snack. Yusuf moves deftly around his kitchen—boiling milk to make hot, frothy coffee, serving slabs of cake , proffering paper plates filled with samosas and uncorking bottles of aerated drinks. “I love the chicken roll here,” confesses Nikita MV, an engineering student, between bites. “The food is fantastic, just a little expensive for students.”
The soft lanterns lining the corridor come alive as students finish eating and leave the café. Yusuf is also wrapping up, scouring counters, putting away uneaten food and switching off lights. The plate that once held the chocolate cake lies empty on the counter — scattered crumbs, the only indication of its presence.
“I don’t like chocolate cake myself,” laughs Yusuf, as he waves me goodbye. “I like any other flavour but chocolate.”
