I confess that I had expectations.
I went to the Grill Room expecting the new Tapas menu to delight me, and was rudely reminded of rule number one in restaurant critiquing and (as they say) in life: Have No Expectations.
When the ceramic blue boat plates of tapas finally arrived, I knew something was wrong. I judge a dish by its cover (so bite me), and what I saw didn’t bode well.
There were miniature bullets masquerading as Fish Croquettes, slimy green roundels supposedly imitating Hariyali Kababs and misshapen red bones served as Santa Fe Chicken.
“Let’s duck out while the waiter’s off getting the beer,” my taste buds screamed, while I tried my best to drown them saliva—which was hard to summon, considering the way the food just sat there and stared right back at me.
I told myself that running off at this point would just be cowardice (since I know and enjoy Fusion 9 cuisine: the first Maya and Shankar restaurant before they opened the Grill Room) if not mildly displeasing to my current dinner companions—who went on chatting and laughing as if nothing was wrong! The cheek.
The last straw: Tepid Beer!
As I resigned myself to a dolorous evening, I started to day-dream. In the spirit of the true fusion of The Geek and The Foodie, I had researched tapas and talked to a few people before going to try this Spanish contrivance.
Apparently tapas first came into being after Spanish King Alfonso X fell sick after drinking on an empty stomach. Too bad he didn’t have access to Vogue’s and Cosmo’s regular “how to” articles, which advise our shockingly addicted race to chomp down on fiber and starch before, while, and after drinks. Alfonso quickly decreed that all taverns needed to serve snacks with drinks, thereby earning the title of “Alfonso the Wise.”
When the long-awaited bottle of Fosters finally arrived, it was tepid. Excuse moi, but when the very basis of serving tapas is to have an accompaniment to one’s drinks, I didn’t think that asking for chilled beer was asking for too much!
According to the vast and all-encompassing experience of my dear brother (who traipses all over Spain and Italy, and whom I passionately hate because of this fact), tapas is served on small slices of bread or crackers in most Spanish pubs. Having a bread base for these spicy snacks makes it easier to soak all the lovely Olive Oil that is drizzled on them by the chefs!
Though olives and cheese feature most prominently in authentic tapas tradition, tapas may take almost any form, and needn’t be Spanish in flavor. In fact, in the Philippines, UK and North America, some of the local favorites like cured beef flavored in soy sauce, fried baby squid, or even pork kababs have been adopted into tapas and are served in easy-to-eat size.
So although I appreciated the addition of typical Indian hors d’oeuvres to the tapas menu, the Hariyali Kababs that I tried just didn’t do the trick. The southwestern marinade that gives Santa Fe chicken its name and fame was simply not at its flavorful best, and the Fish Croquettes came striped with something akin to mustard sauce.
The problem: Good menu, no-so-good execution.
As always, the net came to my rescue in the form of a cool Spanish website, which not only has interesting historical tidbits about tapas, but also some exotic recipes. Check them out at: http://www.arrakis.es/~jols/tapas/index2.html
Well, at least there’s one good news: Before I flounce off to Spain in search of true tapas, there’s another Hyderabadi restaurant (Zara) waiting for me. I better have better luck this time!
To see your tapas experiences on this blog, email me at nirati.agarwal@gmail.com
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