I first went to Theos on Saturday before I went to Croma to look for accessories for my new laptop. I thought I’ll have a small bite as I can’t shop on an empty stomach. I went in and asked for a simple chicken patty. I was told that I could place my order with a waiter. They had to justify the service charge which they charged if you sat and eat. (No, they didn’t actually tell me that)
I placed my order. Ten minutes of increasingly less gentle prodding on my part got me my patty. I touched it to see if it was heated right. It didn’t singe my fingers. Felt good. I took my first bite. Life suddenly became a lot less beautiful as I encountered my first bite of cold, bland, tasteless chunky chicken. I finished the remaining three bites and left. But not before I scanned the menu and saw the promises that it held including Parsi favourites such as Akuri and Kejriwal.
So I went back with K on Sunday allegedly for a V Day breakfast. The memory of the tasteless patty unfortunately tucked away deep into the distant space. We reached before the deliveries for the day had started. There were a few brownies from the previous day and the a la carte menu.
We started by sharing a chocochip brownie to go with our coffees. The brownie, though not fresh, tasted very good. Quite tiny to share between two but a good idea if you want to make a token effort of keeping the kilos away.
I had a black coffee with milk on the side. The milk had milk fat in it! What we call ‘shor‘ in Bengali and ‘malai‘ in Hindi. The stuff we used to spit out from our milk as kids. I got them to change my coffee.
Then came the breakfast bummers.
Let me talk about the Kejriwal first. Kejriwal is one of our favourite dishes in the Royal Bombay Yacht Club. It is a simple dish. Slice of bread. Fried egg. Slice of cheese. Lot of chopped green chillies. Named apparently after a Yacht Club patron. This is how it looks.
And this is how it doesn’t look.
This is Theobroma’s gruesome version of Kejriwal. Spot the differences. No green chillies. Half a burger bread instead of crisp toast. And cheap, salty, grated cheese.
The Nightmare on Linking Street continued. We ordered Akuri, the spicy Irani/ Parsi scrambled egg. My mom in law and her maid make it very well. As do the venerable ladies of Seva Sadan. This is how it looks at Seva Sadan.
And this is how it does not look.
This is Theobroma’s version of Akuri. The redness is not from the blood of dashed hopes. The Akuri was drenched in puree/ ketchup. Was excruciatingly sour. Even a ‘gin soaked boy’ couldn’t have stomached this tomato soaked Akuri. I forgot my middle class valuesand left most of the akoori (Rs 180) unfinished.