Kolkata finds its coolth
It was 1988 and, as a teenager, I was smuggled by older friends into the Pink Elephant, the discotheque at the Oberoi Grand, where we danced alongside Swedish sailors to the thumping beats of 1980s pop under the flash of kitschy disco lights. A few years earlier, the same friends had unsuccessfully tried to pass me off as an adult at Max Mueller Bhavan’s European film festival. The perfect combination of intellect and fun, Kolkata, in my teenage eyes, was too cool for school.
Twenty-six years later, I’m at Roxy, one of the many bars at The Park Hotel Kolkata, where I meet British expat chef Shaun Kenworthy and his Bengali wife, Shubha. Here, neon lights cast a pink-blue glow on the metal plates that adorn the wall and the DJ prepares to play electronic music, as we raise a toast to the city of… joy? But today, I’m looking for an antithesis to Dominique Lapierre’s Kolkata.
Ask anyone about the city of Kolkata and they will break into a romantic reminiscence of a much-stereotyped city—of nostalgia and culture, rickshaw-pullers and coffee houses, grime and left-wing politics; a city that some are audacious enough to label a has-been. But the fact is that in recent times, Kolkata has been quietly reclaiming its diaspora to reveal a young, new and edgy side. In the coming days, I will also speak to fashion designer Kallol Datta, art entrepreneurs Priyanka and Prateek Raja, young business scion rebel film-maker Qaushiq Mukherjee, who goes by the letter Q—all of whom call Kolkata home and all of whom will show me a new facet of their city.
Above the rising beats of music, the Kenworthys tell me that they first met next door, at The Park’s discotheque, Tantra. And so the hotel is somewhat special to both of them. At the time, Shubha was a model and Shaun was the executive chef at The Park. “We’re poles apart, but have so much in common. There’s not much to disagree about,” he says. Not about food, certainly, for both are in agreement that Kolkata’s street food is the best there is. They heartily recommend the fish fry, beguni bhaja, prawn cutlet and dim (egg) paroti at Gariahat; the egg roll at Nizam’s (098361 94669) and the chicken and mutton chops near New Market; the gol bari mangsho at Shyambazar Five Point Crossing; the fish cutlet at Deshapriya Park and the kheema, Bengali and Marwari samosas available everywhere. “The Bengalis are like the French,” says Shaun. “They’ll give up everything for their culture and for their cuisine.”
One meal to give up everything for, certainly, is the thala at Kewpie’s. This home-turned-restaurant’s menu is as delightful as its lithograph-covered walls, with an elish paturi and chorchori to die for. The Bengal Cookbook by the late Minakshie Dasgupta, in whose memory the restaurant was established, is “a bible for the Bengali NRI”, the Kenworthys tell me. In similar homely settings are 6, Ballygunge Place and The Corner Courtyard. While the latter serves a mix of global fare in a lovely heritage house, the former offers dishes such as Gondhoraj chicken and dab chingri, nolen gurer ice cream and mocktails named after city roads.
Twenty-six years later, I’m at Roxy, one of the many bars at The Park Hotel Kolkata, where I meet British expat chef Shaun Kenworthy and his Bengali wife, Shubha. Here, neon lights cast a pink-blue glow on the metal plates that adorn the wall and the DJ prepares to play electronic music, as we raise a toast to the city of… joy? But today, I’m looking for an antithesis to Dominique Lapierre’s Kolkata.
Ask anyone about the city of Kolkata and they will break into a romantic reminiscence of a much-stereotyped city—of nostalgia and culture, rickshaw-pullers and coffee houses, grime and left-wing politics; a city that some are audacious enough to label a has-been. But the fact is that in recent times, Kolkata has been quietly reclaiming its diaspora to reveal a young, new and edgy side. In the coming days, I will also speak to fashion designer Kallol Datta, art entrepreneurs Priyanka and Prateek Raja, young business scion rebel film-maker Qaushiq Mukherjee, who goes by the letter Q—all of whom call Kolkata home and all of whom will show me a new facet of their city.
Above the rising beats of music, the Kenworthys tell me that they first met next door, at The Park’s discotheque, Tantra. And so the hotel is somewhat special to both of them. At the time, Shubha was a model and Shaun was the executive chef at The Park. “We’re poles apart, but have so much in common. There’s not much to disagree about,” he says. Not about food, certainly, for both are in agreement that Kolkata’s street food is the best there is. They heartily recommend the fish fry, beguni bhaja, prawn cutlet and dim (egg) paroti at Gariahat; the egg roll at Nizam’s (098361 94669) and the chicken and mutton chops near New Market; the gol bari mangsho at Shyambazar Five Point Crossing; the fish cutlet at Deshapriya Park and the kheema, Bengali and Marwari samosas available everywhere. “The Bengalis are like the French,” says Shaun. “They’ll give up everything for their culture and for their cuisine.”
One meal to give up everything for, certainly, is the thala at Kewpie’s. This home-turned-restaurant’s menu is as delightful as its lithograph-covered walls, with an elish paturi and chorchori to die for. The Bengal Cookbook by the late Minakshie Dasgupta, in whose memory the restaurant was established, is “a bible for the Bengali NRI”, the Kenworthys tell me. In similar homely settings are 6, Ballygunge Place and The Corner Courtyard. While the latter serves a mix of global fare in a lovely heritage house, the former offers dishes such as Gondhoraj chicken and dab chingri, nolen gurer ice cream and mocktails named after city roads.
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