Those Days of Glories Past: United Coffee House, Connaught Place

United Coffee House, a glorified name that exudes the aura of a bygone era, the British Raj in India. Sans the traditional, Durwan (gatekeeper) with magnificent moustaches, there was something amiss about this restaurant, despite it's regal decor, completed with massive chandeliers, gold patterns on the walls, Victorian furniture and plush carpet.

I should have specified this in my previous posts that I do not deliberate and research about the restaurants I visit or the food I order. More often than not, these selections are driven by acute hunger pangs. My posts are not designed to follow a certain pattern, akin to my maverick spirit.

So there I was, in a colonial and neo-India mish-mash, treating myself to double dose of lemonade. Two distinct flavours I ordered - Kaffir and Lime Cordial and Peach & Rose. A doubly whammy they were and twin Thumbs Up to the thirst quenchers that proved effective to combat the scourge of humid monsoon.

It was time to order some food and my eyes were fixated on Chicken Cutlet. Yes, I dig cutlets! My fondest childhood memories of dine-out with family, almost invariably involved crispy Chicken Cutlet. I wasted no time to request for a portion of these deep-fried, chicken pastries with a fervent hope of a culinary time travel back to the past.

As I sat about scrutinising the ambience, attempting to separate the antique from the fake, on a porcelain dish, almost as huge as the Moon, arrived two, heart-shaped Chicken Cutlets. With childlike gleam in my eyes, I was quick to cut out a fine piece, the whiteness of the plate already splattered with mustard sauce and tomato ketchup. Without wasting another precious second, I bit into the morsel, eyes shutting instinctively, as I waited for magic to take over.

Lo and behold! This is not what I expected! Eyes popped open as I chewed on a bland, leathery piece of meat. The cutlet was a let-down. It lacked the intricate blend of chicken and spices, it lacked the spirit of a True Blue Cutlet. My taste buds protested trying to fight the major thrashing they received as I went about finishing my food with a clinical, almost robot-like enthusiasm.

With no intention to succumb to a complete wipe out of my happy, gastronomy memories, I did not bother to fuss and fume about the arbitrary inclusion of "voluntary service charges" in the bill by the restaurant. I had just about enough energy to wash down the pathetic excuse of a Cutlet with generous gulps of the twin lemonades.

The ordeal needed to end and I marched out without further ado. I needed fresh air and some Paan to revive my desi senses.

Lesson Learnt - Past may not always be glorious.