Mumbai Masala

Chole Bhature, a deceitful feast thou art! A plate dressed in grandeur, yet hollow at its heart. The Luchi, that pale cousin of the paratha, lies upon the platter like a knight who hath lost his armour, light, puffed, and full of empty promise. Beside it, a mere handful of chickpeas masquerade as royalty, scattered with pomp into dainty sauces and pitiful smears of onion, pickle, and curd; each one pretending to matter. And lo! The plate, vast as the fields of Cymru, tricks the weary diner into dreams of abundance. But when the hunger is done and the purse left lighter, one cannot help but whisper, “Forsooth, this banquet of illusions is worth no more than six quid and that’s me being kind.”

Chole Bhature, a deceitful feast thou art! A plate dressed in grandeur, yet hollow at its heart. The Luchi, that pale cousin of the paratha, lies upon the platter like a knight who hath lost his armour, light, puffed, and full of empty promise. Beside it, a mere handful of chickpeas masquerade as royalty, scattered with pomp into dainty sauces and pitiful smears of onion, pickle, and curd; each one pretending to matter. And lo! The plate, vast as the fields of Cymru, tricks the weary diner into dreams of abundance. But when the hunger is done and the purse left lighter, one cannot help but whisper, “Forsooth, this banquet of illusions is worth no more than six quid and that’s me being kind.”

I visited Mumbai Masala with a couple of coworkers from India. We were all happy with our food and they said it was authentic. I especially loved the pistachio lassi!

I visited Mumbai Masala with a couple of coworkers from India. We were all happy with our food and they said it was authentic. I especially loved the pistachio lassi!

The food smell and they it wasn’t fresh. The ragada patties had chickpeas and smelly patties.