Menus. They terrify me. There was a time when menus didn’t exist—servers carried them in their minds. Then came the small menus folded on the tables. Next, the one-page laminated cards. Progress, progress. Now, we have full booklets—some bigger than the novels I read! How am I supposed to go through an entire book and decide what to order? And if there’s a family of ten, it might take more than half an hour of intense debate over the pros and cons before any kind of order is placed. Perhaps that’s how the concept of starters came about. Each person at the table declares, “I want this,” and the merry-go-round begins.

Personally, I never order starters. Anyway, the whole group ends up sharing one or two of these dishes, and I might nibble on a piece or two. The issue is my stomach; it’s small and can hold very little. If I overeat, everything threatens to come right back up. So starters often end up being enders for me. It’s so difficult to order something just for yourself these days. Unlike in the past when the portions were limited and just right, now everything is served in huge bowlfuls, whether it’s the main item or a side dish. If I want a simple phulka with a side dish, a massive bowl of curry will be placed in front of me. And then what am I supposed to do with it?

If ordering takes time, serving takes even longer. Now you understand why the bills are so hefty, running into four figures. We’re not just paying for the food but also for occupying a part of the premises for over two hours and keeping the chairs warm. Who do you think is paying for the fancy bright, blinding lights or the trendy subdued lighting? It’s us! We are running these hotels.

Coming back to menus—these booklets contain practically every dish in the world. How does a restaurant manage to cook so many items? Think deeply, and you might figure it out. Even finding the dish you like can be a challenge. Under which category is it listed? And then there’s the availability issue: “Available from 3 p.m. to 6 p.m.” or some such restrictive timing. The dish I like always seems to be available at some inconvenient time. So, back to the menu again to choose something I don’t really like.

What we end up eating is usually a mix of various cuisines—a bit of corn, a piece of gobi Manchurian, something with cheese, or a spring roll. Spring rolls? Just one is enough to fill my stomach. And these so-called appetizers are actually appetite-killers for me because I can’t eat anything beyond them. Papads? I always thought they went with sambar or rasam rice, but here they come as a starter. Then comes the main course—may God have mercy on my stomach.

I think if we’re planning to go to a restaurant, we should be given the menu book in advance—maybe even for a fee—or sent an online version for free. The family can then discuss the options at leisure for two to three hours, reaching some sort of consensus that at least partially satisfies everyone’s needs. Write down the choices in your notes and place the order as soon as you’re seated, saving time. However, this might reduce the “rental” value included in the bill for occupying the premises, but it could also save on the hefty tips you’re expected to pay.

Continued in 111. Chats And Chaats - Part 6