Sunday, August 12, 2007

The perfect “break-up” restaurant in New York City

You know, I can’t imagine anyone ever planning a “fun” evening at an eye sore restaurant where the food looks like a by product of pollution and commotion and service is reminiscent of what prisoners of war had to face -- unless of course you are heartlessly dumping someone. For such an uneventful occasion, you want a cacophonous restaurant where the noise created by mumbling of humans and clanking of dishes drowns away hurtful words or abuses—depending on whether you are at the giving end or receiving end. Another charm of such a restaurant is that you do not lose amour-propre-- savorless food acts as a brilliant disguise for your emotions in public places—no one can tell the difference between “my heart hurts,” cry or “the food is appalling,” cry.

Anyway, a few nights ago a bunch of us had organized a soiree for an essential element of our coterie, a dear friend who was moving to Far East Asia (thankfully for a short and defined period). We made reservations at this much-recommended restaurant -- Chennai Gardens in the Murray Hill area of New York City. The restaurant has won raving reviews – maybe the owner paid someone for those words dipped in honeydew? It sounded like fallacious testimony. Before I delve into the happenings of that evening, I’d like to say something -- the only thing commendable about Chennai Gardens was the location.

An insight into the evening: we were a group of eight out of which one person wasn't eating; he was the "food guardian"— kind of like a restaurant angel looking over us and our comestible. Believe me, after the abominable experience at this restaurant, we needed his services. Anyway, seven people ordered appetizers and beverages and guess what—the rocket science behind order taking completely shocked the waiters; they goofed up. The staff was not really au fait with our needs. After persistent reminders, the flabbergasted staff finally managed to make an effort and bring out the remaining appetizer. They didn’t let us down; when it was time for our entrees, they made an aberration. Not only did they get our order wrong, but in their own way, were indignant about rectifying their mistake. Not to forget, the “over-salted sambar” looked and tasted like murky water. The table arrangement was bedraggled and the lesser said about the presentation, the better it is. All I can tell you is that Martha Stewart would never approve of this place.

I am never impertinent to staff at any restaurant—it’s not just the fear of them spitting in my food (yes it happens), but I genuinely appreciate their services. Living away from India has made me all the more appreciative of labor and services. Had it been a regular dinner out with friends, I would have not been so upset, but this was a special evening and the unprofessionalism and boorish behavior exhibited by the village idiots at the restaurant, was unforgivable.

My recommendation: go to Chennai Gardens only if you are breaking up with someone you loathe as the abysmal service and unpalatable food can make the process easier for you. If you want convivial atmosphere, a kebab vendor would be a better option as compared to this banal restaurant.

Copyright © 08.12.2007

"After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one's own relatives." Oscar Wilde

1 comment:

s said...

Another charm of such a restaurant is that you do not lose amour-propre-- savorless food acts as a brilliant disguise for your emotions in public places—no one can tell the difference between “my heart hurts,” cry or “the food is appalling,” cry.


love the explicit description