Cool Britannia

I normally don’t review restaurants, but this one was just too irresistible. After many years I dropped by at the Britannia restaurant located at Ballard Estate in South Bombay (can’t call it Mumbai on this occasion, just doesn’t work.) And was delighted to find the legendary Parsi joint is pretty much as it was a decade ago.

The walls are, as always, chipping away, the unprofessionally applied migraine-green cheap distemper on certain sections makes you want to reach out for a pill. The awning announcing the restaurant badly needs to be trashed at the nearest scrap dealer. The Irani furniture hasn’t been replaced for three generations, and air conditioning is completely out of the question (I made the fatal error of asking the proprietor if he was planning on starting an A/C room… it’s never a good idea to rile a bawa, I assure you). There is still no washroom, you have to go to an adjoining building and plead for a key to be able to pee.

And I absolutely loved to find the place in such a mess. I have never enjoyed eating out as much as I did at the hurried working-lunch meet last week. Of course, the food was as groovy as ever (Berry Pulao, Bombay Duck, Sali Chicken and the burnt-just-right Caramel Custard… all to die for since 1923, when Britannia first opened shop for the exclusive patronage of Brit officers), but my elation had more to do with the crumbling ambience.

Let me explain.

The greatest strength of Britannia is that the place is run by a, let’s just say, ‘not-very-loaded’ Parsi family. And so they have no excess funds available to modernise things, even if they wanted to. This also means they can’t afford to hire professional managers and fancy chefs, they have to run the show all by themselves. Which is what makes the place so magical. Three generations, all three men, grand dad, dad and son, man this place on their own, and this guarantees a personal touch and consistency of food and service, and as usual, they don’t let you down. The dad, Boman Kohinoor, is as passionate about the place and the food as he has been since he migrated from Iran, but if there’s any hint he isn’t too excited about the future, it’s in his ecstatic response to a question on where his son was. “That rascal you see sitting at the cashier’s desk… that’s my son.” Right. Told you I love the ambience.

It’s heartening and comforting to see granddad and dad share a quiet meal in the corner of the restaurant (see pic). It’s reassuring to find decay and degeneration of furniture and fittings. And yes, it’s great to hear the air conditioning people aren’t visiting Britannia in a hurry. More than Berry Pulao (berries still come straight from Iran), this is why I adore this place. It’s stuck in time, and if you ever want to relive all that Bombay lost when it became Mumbai, then here it is.

Boman Kohinoor, always full of good-humoured anecdotes, drops by to share a problem: “You know, some American guests dropped by the other day. And were very annoyed when they ordered Bombay Duck and found it to be a fish. I told them to get lost!”

Way to go, Sir. Keep these Americans away, Especially the McDonald’s suits who would soon arrive to buy you out. There is no way will we let Britannia shut shop. There is no way will we let Bombay die.

Please don’t spend a paisa on modernisation. Please be as unkempt and messy as you are. We love you for it.