Flavours of India

Naan bread and lamb accompaniment

Connecting reserving a table to dining at the then three star Eastern Boulevard Holiday Inn restaurant in Cape Town in the late 80s was second nature until watching Date Night earlier this year. 

Seeing that this was my first restaurant reservation – I wanted to do it just right. So after practicing my lines, I picked up my receiver  and without  any hesitation dialled the number and made a reservation for two people, at exactly 6.30pm that very evening. 

On the other end of the line I was met with the timid voice of a woman who passed the phone over to whom I assumed was the ‘man-in-charge’ because of his accent and telephone presence. We spoke. He then proceeded to repeat my name and number as an informal way of confirming my booking.

Confident with how I expressed my desire to quell this insatiable craving for chapattis – which eventually surpassed my desires for intimacy – I pat myself on the back as this unfaced character bid me farewell and ended our conversation with a cool, “see you later”.

Puréed spinach - lamb accompaniment

We cycled for about 30km through torrential rains that came down like the monsoon in May. With one hand on my handle bar and the other holding an iffy umbrella that barely shielded me from the rain, we arrived at Flavours of India drenched. Dripping like soaked felines, we greeted the cosy and ungodly quiet restaurant with relief at having made it. As the only two wet black people in this dry white-washed eatery – I lifted my shiny chin with all the grace in the poor little thing and sat down anywhere. We were asked to move. 

To my surprise – well not really with the lack of luck I possess  – the ‘man-in-charge’ didn’t get my name or even my number down as I had thought. With sheer determination, I forced him to believe that I did in fact call him that very morning. In the Queen’s English he retorted with a monologue about how wrong I was – going as far as showing off his illegible restaurant planner sans my reservation. With no strength left in my battered emaciated damp body, I gave up the fight and we took the tiny table at the entrance.

Veggie korma

The restaurant had only two waiters – the ‘man-in-charge’ and a young lady, whom I assume were cooking the food too – on that busy night, so service was pretty slow. However, this did not interfere with my dear friend and I, who ate like rulers and drank like peasants. We ordered a bottle of decent white wine, I feasted on a perfectly smooth Navratan korma with a floury chapatti, while my eating partner professed nothing, as she was too involved in her Tandoori lamb tikka.

Lamb

All in all the food was too die for – literally, the portions well-sized and the prices reasonable but the reservation, still a mystery.