Good food behind the facade

WHAT IN the world was Shakespeare thinking when he wrote that thing about roses and names? Anybody in the dizzy world of marketing or advertising will have you know about the importance of names and brand equity. They make or mar a product And sometimes where the sublime fails, ones with shock value or the ridiculous will do the trick.

Hotel Traffic Jam. Every passer-by on the Sardar Patel Road would have noticed it.

Each time I passed by, it was there on my face, hard to acknowledge and even more hard to ignore.

The argument against was that how can the food in a Traffic Jam be.

I watched the joint grow from a one room hotel and tea shop establishment to a separate airconditioned annex. Surely this meant the formula was right? The pull grew stronger by the day.

Finally when a person recommended the Kerala chicken there it was the final straw on the camel's back.

The very next day there I was bright and early at 1 p.m. for lunch. Stepping from the bright daylight to the dark interior, we had to almost feel our way to the table.

With dark shaded glass panels and dim lighting, it was more like one of those seedy bars.

We almost expected a cabaret dancer to burst out from behind the walls any minute. The all-male presence accentuated the effect.

Till the food arrived the unreal feel lingered. The minute the fragrance of Kerala chicken (Rs. 55) wafted through the air, the picture became clear. Priorities crystallised, whimsies faded. Here was good solid stuff.

Though the menu had Chinese and North Indian dishes too on earlier advice we stuck to South Indian, mostly Malayali food. The Special Parottas (Rs. 5 each) were also lovely. They were crisp and flaky outside and soft inside. It was a classic Malabar Moppilah combination.

The Alleppey fish curry had become Kerala fish curry (Rs. 58) here. But it was as tasty and authentic as they came. The fish was fresh and the gravy excellent. The South Indian vegetable suggested to us, Gobi 65 (Rs. 45), was also okay.

I was bursting at the seams when we came out into daylight again. Hey, may be the Bard from Avon wasn't too off the mark about names, I admit.

MARIEN MATHEW

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