Good Luck, Keema Pav And Memories

We were chasing visas today and finished earlier than expected. Our first breakfast was tea and biscuits at 4.30am - to make sure we left at 6am and made our appointment in time.

I'm guessing each person has a different experience with visas. After checking various sources, the husband said the whole process would take 3-4 hours. I'm happy all those sources were wrong. We were done in 45 minutes and had time to kill.

Food is always on our minds, so Bossji pulled out his phone and said, "Do you want to eat a five-star meal?" all the while scrolling down his phone screen.

I replied with a much-delayed, "Yes," which really meant 'no'. But a few minutes later, he said, "Do you want to eat Iranian food? Good Luck is supposed to be one of Mumbai's top five eating places."

"Yes!"

We went to Good Luck, in Bandra's Hill Road, just opposite Mehboob Studio. I am sure management didn't mean anything when it named the restaurant so. It is partially hidden by a dusty, disabled, blue tempo. The inside didn't look five-star, though the furthest wall was an etched mirror of some sort, with a fern design repeated along its length and breadth - the only thing glam. I wasn't impressed - until the food came.

We ordered without a menu. Since it was an Irani restaurant the Bigger Half ordered two keema pavs. And it was great. Like my mom used to make it, but with a generous helping of masala-suffused oil. Interestingly, this was a beef keema. Most Indian restaurants sell mutton, chicken or soya keema. My mom's keema, always beef, tasted better the second or third day - the beef softer and masalas more flavourful the older it got.

Only we called it minced meat then - so no-nonsense, like my parents. That earthy, wholesome, rich, filling dish, came out of a plastic packet with the mugshot of an annoyed, horned-bovine. My mom cooked the minced meat for some hours, usually with peas. I don't know how, but it lasted for probably three days. I usually had it with kubz, Arab bread.

In Mumbai, it's called keema. At one point my go-to dish was keema gotala (keema with egg) at the tiny Iranian restaurants near our hostel - Pandita Ramabai Hostel in Gamdevi. It was the only dish I was aware of in my first year in Mumbai. I was then untrained in every way and had so much to learn, literally.

I find it strange people would want to make keema with chicken and personally would not eat it, especially after eating the stuff in the office canteen. Yes, an office canteen can kill whole food categories for you. Stay away from them!

Well, we rounded off the keema with an omelette pav and bun maska (butter) and bun maska jam. I had Iranian black tea. It tasted like any other black tea, luckily without the bitterness of tea brewed too long. The Mappalah restaurant at Fountain makes a good black tea but uses a tea bag in a glass.

I debated whether to have brun maska, a hard version of the pav that Parsis seem to favour. Then I remembered a friend, married to a Zorastrian, telling me her Alsatian loved to eat brun. By then Boss had placed the order. The bun maska gave me a buttery stare, begging me to photograph it before it died.

You have to love places that lash and smother their buns with Amul butter. Like Yazdani at Fort. A friend once had an interesting story to tell about Kayani Bakery in Pune. Whenever her husband visits Pune, he is ordered to bring home cakes. These cakes are made with Amul butter, which is salty. Some years ago there was a shortage of Amul butter and Kayani chose not to make its cakes rather than use another butter.

The meal at Good Luck turned out to be excellent. A very decent Rs382. I didn't get why the restaurant used paper cups, rather than cups or glasses, to serve its tea.

The area near the cashier was old-fashioned and quaint - very large old cupboards with wide clean glass doors. The restaurant also sells cosmetics, snacks, biscuits, chocolates, perfumes, deodorants and more.

There was one young waiter, running the whole place, though I saw others in the kitchen. I saw beef samosas on the menu. It wasn't available at breakfast. Red T-shirt (waiter) did warn us the morning fare was limited. I must go back one evening for the samosas, maybe with greedy, fat friends.

I eyed Red T-shirt's jewellery - two silver rings with semi precious stones. For a busy young man, he was amiable and relaxed. Please tell me the secret of your calm. And how do you stay thin in a restaurant like Good Luck?

Breakfast at Good Luck restaurant, Hill Road, Bandra. Clockwise from top left - beef keema, omelette and pav maska (butter), Iranian black tea and pav maska jam. It was a very busy place with a wide range of clientele. People waited patiently for tables to free up.
(Photos: A. Peter)

The store cum restaurant reminded me of an eatery in Philadelphia. It was similar in no way except for the sale of provisions.

My cousin wanted me to try Mexican food. I shuddered at the idea because the food I tried in Mumbai was awful and I didn't want to repeat the experience at any cost.

But having lived in Mexico, my cousin insisted I trust her choices. She was unsure of her husband's reaction because the restaurant was in a low-income neighbourhood and at the back of a store. The store was filled with Mexican provisions and knick knacks. I was reluctant to photograph any of it in case I offended someone.

But the food was awesome. Not overloaded with masalas or spice, just great cooked beef, simple wholesome food. And everything she ordered was new to me. Plus aqua fresca, which literally means fresh water and is an extract of fruit. It was not juicy or overly sweet, but very light on the senses.

The lunch at El Primo Taqueria in Philadelphia. From top left, 1) the restaurant at the back of the shop. Almost feels like someone's home. That's the entrance to the shop. 2) Yummy beef tacos. I think that's what it is. Unless it's a tortilla. 3) Aqua Fresca. 4) No idea. It's a lot. Meant for hearty eaters. Contains beef, cheese, beans, onions, capsicum and rice, among other foods. 5) Chicken Flautas. Another super yummy dish. 6) Nachos. These are starters and they come with a bland bean sauce that is quite tasty. Even the nachos taste different from what we get in India. All this comes with salads and sauces and there's a self-service section in a corner.

The nachos were nothing like in Mumbai. Mexicans be warned. Eat Indian food while in India. Maybe a five-star restaurant will be able to replicate what you want to eat. Avoid it at the theatre and malls. You don't know how funny I find this.

Many hugs, darling Soy, for introducing me to Mexican food. I'm a fan now. I'm not going to eat it in India though.

Thank you also for feeding me the kind of American food I wanted to eat - steak, mashed potatoes and vegetables, beef burgers, pork ribs and more. And for drinks I'm unlikely to try again, only because I'm not going to remember what it was and find it here. Bending over backwards for me, with a smile, despite all your tensions. And mostly for not talking about how fattening the food was going to be and letting me enjoy eating.

Soy at the grill. It is pulled out on pleasant days. This was in May 2018, the cold replaced by a slight summer warmth and beautiful colours in the trees. 

When I arrived in the third week of April, I caught the fag end of cherry blossom season, including souvenirs at gift shops - like cherry blossom chocolates and keychains at the Senate gift shop in Washington DC. I have a cherry blossom keychain.

This is what Soy fed me - steak, lasagna with delicious ricotta cheese, split wine and ginger ale. 

(Photos: A Peter)

Giant mushrooms. A whole area just for wines and liquor.
(Photos: A. Peter)

Clockwise from top left, a souffle - my first ever. A cereal/muesli breakfast, range of food for sale, coconut water in a bottle, ginger ale and lasagna.
(Photos: A. Peter)

Formerly pork ribs. Eaten clean here. Only remembered later to take a photo. Hamburgers - juicy, beef burgers. I followed Soy to a supermarket and was stunned by the range of food and size of the vegetables.
I also got called her mother by the cashier. It took me down several notches, considering she's only five years younger than me.
(Photos: A. Peter)