The Dhansoo Café is the place to be if you’re looking to savour Indian cuisine but it also makes some space for global delicacies with equal ease, says Chahak Mittal
I arrive at Sangam Courtyard’s Dhansoo café at dinner time on a chilly December evening. The rest of the city is either driving through the fog resting on the vehicle’s glass or actively raising slogans against the prevailing injustice. Sitting beside a wide, glass window, partially covered with thick, wooden blinds, I somehow feel free from the damp chaos in Delhi. There is a wired drawing of a king’s palace on an off-white wall on my right. The lamps hanging above each table are adding to the dusky yet elegant vibe of the place. The round-white staircase with golden bars on its side is looking as if it climbed up to a royal court. And the colourful chaise-lounges have my heart already.
At what I describe as a tranquil tavern tucked in a very underrated corner of my city, I find myself ordering the Rio De La Hoz Rosé, a Spanish sparkling rose wine. Impressed by the wine collection, I flip the menu to look at its gin-spreads and cocktails. The Pisco sour infusions catch my eye. While the cocktail of ‘Peruvian origin’ offers different citrusy flavours, I opt for passion fruit and pineapple. In the drink, I taste the two fruits individually, which is its both good and bad element since it is too dilluted to be called a cocktail. I wish the tanginess would have been put across with the right balance.
Before hopping on to the next drink, I decide to order some food, wondering whether it would do justice to the name ‘Dhansoo’ (a Hindi expression for rocking). The chefs have worked hard to combine different ingredients which are otherwise not ‘supposed’ to be together. The first, for example, is Japani samosa and pindi chana. The former is a layered puff, perfectly crisp on the outside and soft on the inside. While I can’t decide what out of the brilliantly cooked two steals the show, the pindi chana certainly hits the right note, with its spice quotient on point. On a different note, there is nothing Japanese about the samosa. It’s just a name that has been derived from a famous stall-owner at the Bhagirathi market who has been serving the Japani samosa for years.
The next is the Podi idli. The bite-sized tiny idlis in a patta plate are served with refried beans mixed with mashed potato and chopped onion, and smoked tomato chutney. Even as I order other delicacies, I constantly wish this one doesn’t end. It is that addictive. The soft idlis and the beans batter are garlic bread to my jalapeno dip. Yes, it might sound like an improbable comparison but I can’t find anything else to describe what the heavenly dish feels like. On another note, the smoked tomato chutney could have found a better companion, I feel, as it is almost ruining the taste of idlis as a whole.
Quinoa garden flower salad is the next. Topped with orange vinaigrette, the salad is a blend of all things healthy, except for one important element — taste. While the quinoa seeds make a bland appearance on my tastebuds, its feta cheese balls in different bites amaze me.
Even though the restaurant specialises in Indian cuisine, I wonder why there is an Italian/Continental dish after the end of every category of dishes. For instance, pasta at the end of the main course and pizza at the end of the starters. The executive chef, who specialises in Indian cuisine, tells me that the footfalls are at the end of the day dependent on multi-cuisine. I decide to order a thin crust Margherita. Let’s look at the other side too, isn’t it? The pizza’s crust, as per my desires, is as crispy and biteable as a thin cheese biscuit. However, the pizza, which could have done slightly better, comes with a realisation that this place isn’t really meant for experimenting with the global cuisine. Its amazing wine collection has to be probably blended with Indian cuisine only. Remember the bland quinoa salad?
The next dish, Avocado maki roll, however, tries to prove the above statement wrong. Served with nikkei sauce (or commonly called soy sauce), the grain white rice sushi roll, filled with bits of avocado, is simple yet satisfying and probably the best vegan sushi I have ever relished.
The next two are Dhansoo corn seekh and Keema pao, which fail to make a mark on my tastebuds. While the former is the Varqui parantha, served with naan, mint chutney and onions dipped in white vinegar, the latter is vegan meat, served with garlic chutney — almost like bhaji with a pao. Each of the two, I feel, lacks on its taste quotient as it is too ill-blended.
To fix my disappointment, I order Tenali Rama, a cocktail that blends Russian vodka, Ry gin with kiwi, cucumber, achari mirch, coriander, litchi squash and mint tea. It doesn’t turn out to be a wrong decision. Highly refreshing, the drink tastes of all its ingredients one by one and then, all at once. It is certainly something that is an answer to what makes people return to a place — well, the experience it gave them. I want to come back to this place for this cocktail.
The main course platter arrives, which consists of Palak saag, Ma ki dal, Methi matar mushroom malai and three kinds of breads. I am worried I will never be able to finish all of it as I am already full, so these dishes better be good enough. However, the three gravies are absolutely creamy, with the butter floating on top yet not once, making me feel guilty about ‘cheating’. If fullness of your tastebuds is what you’re looking at, go for this.
The last one, dessert, Kulfa, magnifies the Indian appeal. The phirni, topped with malai cream, sabja seed, rabri, kerna water and white faluda noodles, is the perfect yumminess one could ask for after having a range of delectable dishes. I’m not much of a betting person and I should, perhaps, stop picking horses based on how wonderful this place has made my evening.
