Gajalee

The best way to keep a Parsi quiet is by putting a plate of food in front of him.

Pin-drop silence, quite literally.

Though in my case if the plate is full of crabs you won't even hear the occasional 'hmmm...'

My relatives from the land of Apro Charles and Apri Diana were here.  And it’s customary to have one meal, at least, at our favourite crab joint — Gajalee. We were talking nineteen to a dozen about this, that the other and Paris politics. But the minute we had the golden yellow batter fried Bombay ducks in our plates our cacophony just came to a halt. That hot crumbly crust, the oh-so-soft fillet and the cold chutney, make for a lovely texture in my mouth.

I have lost count of how many of these I can eat at one go. Dad once counted to 12, I think he's fibbing.

We spoke next only to place the order for the crabs. We ordered the butter garlic gravy and the tandoori ones.

Even after going to Gajalee a number of times over the past decade, I still haven't been able to figure which one I like more. Every time we go, I feel that I will finally make my decision this time. Much to my dismay, I can never choose! I just devour both and feel fab!

I never miss eating their Pomfret curry with onion kulchas. Wow!

Don’t know how they get it right EVERY time.

Ah! I leave Gajalee only wishing I could come back for my next meal there.

PS: Non-stop chatter in the car on our way back. :P