TUCKED away in a corner of Bombay's Ballard Estate is Britannia- a unique concoction of old-world charm, bursting flavour, and strict adherence to traditional recipes. What does it serve? Primarily parsi food, with a taste that would probably define the word "authentic" when it used in the context of cuisine. Like so many memorable eateries, Britannia is not feverishly advertised (at least not to tourists), but rather seems to be a well-kept community secret among the South Bombay office goers who have relied on it for a little more than an honest lunch over the last seven decades.
A meal at Britannia will remind you that a meal is more than just the food we eat. When I was enthusiastically informed of it's well known berry pulao, I expected a great meal- but what I got was much more- a delightfully bloggable dining experience. I walked into a cool and airy colonial era South Bombay structure that had held it's own against time and weather, and managed to save me from the draining humidity without the aid of air-conditioning. The pleasantly inviting setting was augmented by the owner- an old parsi man with a slight hunch. Though it was difficult to understand what exactly he was saying, the smile and aura of an affectionate grandfather made me feel right at home. The menu followed, and what caught my eye was the footnote: Food shall be served only between 12noon to 4pm, and no snacks or beverages without ordering a proper lunch plate. Call me old-fashioned, but in this fast-food, takeaway generation, it is nice to see an iron hand on the table.
When my berry pulao arrived, I sensed that it would be quite unlike any pulao that I had tasted. Britannia's speciality is apparently the little berries that were glistening like red rubies in the bed of rice and masala. The 1940 recipe that the owner's wife followed when she personally supervised all culinary proceedings is still followed with ritualistic devotion, and these berries are imported from Iran even today. But for a little admonishment that I received from others at the table for the barbaric manner in which I was serving myself, the pulao lived up to my expectations. The highlight had to be little koftas in the pulao, and the little berries exploding in my mouth like flavoured taste-grenades. Perhaps a little more raw spice wouldn't hurt, but all in all, the berry pulao is the most exquisite thing I have eaten in a long time.
Unlike the pulao, I did not expect much when I ordered dessert. Caramel custard is something that is well abused by many restaurants by passing off brown, solidified milky, sugary substances as dessert. However, when the first bit of caramel custard slipped through my senses, it was obvious that the caramel custard was prepared with the same attention to tradition and detail as the berry pulao- right down to the little brown sugar syrup that the custard was floating in.
As we left, the eighty-year old owner responded to our thanks with the time tested entrepreneurial mantra: "If you like it, tell others, and if you don't like it, tell me". And telling others is precisely what I am doing.
