Culinary Quips: The Restaurant Formerly Known as Hitler's Cross
The international media has been all a'tizzy this week over the name of a newly opened Mumbai eatery.
The owner of Hitler's Cross drew ire from enough offbeat-news columns, newspapers, magazines, blogs and websites to finally give in and agree to change the name. Now, this was no big shocker to me. This is the third time I've watched this exact process happen. There was an entire chain of Hitler Bars in Korea when I was living there. The big Busan branch eventually caved in and changed their name to The Witler Bar, and the one near my apartment in Gimhae became 'Adrenaline'.
The new name of this most recent Feuhrer-based establishment has yet to premiere, and is still shrouded in mystery. The owner has apologized for offending people, but hopes that people will look beyond the name and start talking about the restaurant itself.
So to make up for this atrocious lack of real restaurant reviews, I went to the currently un-named eatery myself so I could launch my new restaurant review column:
As I made my way into Kharghar, the restaurant was easy to find, with it's famous giant red banner partially covered. It was 5:15pm when I made my way inside.
I sat down in one of the restaurant's 75 seats as the busboy was wiping down the table.
"Is it alright if I-"
But he was gone.
There were 5 other people in the restaurant. A couple sat in the hookah lounge with their small boy, and two teenagers sipped coffee in one of the booths to the left. I waved to one of the 7 people behind the counter.
He waved back.
I made a 'menu-opening' signal with my hands. He walked back into the kitchen.
I tried frantically to wave someone over, but after 3 minutes of getting brief eye contact but nothing else with every employee there, I walked up to the counter myself.
"Excuse me, can I get a men-"
"It's pastry time!" the attendant barked at me.
"I'm sorry?" I asked.
"Dinner is at 6:30. From 4-6:30 you can only get pastries."
"All right...." I smiled, "I'll.... come back at 6:30. You see, I'm doing a restaurant review for-"
but he was gone.
For a place that used the lack of Holocaust awareness in India as an excuse for their name, they are surprisingly impatient with those who are not aware of the delicate rules of pastry time.
So I had to kill an hour. But you know what they say about what makes a succesful business: Location, location, location! So I took the opportunity to scope out the area that the restaurant was situated in.
The restaurant is located in Navi Mumbai, the 'new hotness' across the river from the 'old and busted' Mumbai that I live in. The entire city seemed to be under construction.
I still had plenty of time to kill, so I went to see what shopping was available in the area.
After my hour was up, I went back to the restaurant to finally have dinner.
I took my seat once again, and once again alternated between waiting patiently and flailing my arms wildly hoping for a response. After about 5 minutes, a woman walked over and asked:
"So.... did you want me to...bring you... something?"
"Can I get a menu?" I asked.
"You can't get any food, or pizzas, or... anything.... we don't serve them until later."
"Ah yes," I replied. "Pastry time. When do you serve dinner?"
"Not until 6:30."
"But it's 6:35"
She stared blankly for a few seconds.
"Maybe 7."
"I guess I'll wait here....... but in the meantime, could I-"
but she was gone.
I looked over the photocopied menu that I wasn't allowed to order from. It consisted entirely of salads, bruschettas, mini-pizzas, and of course pastries.
It was another five minutes until I got her attention again, but that was only because she wanted the menu back to give someone else (they had apparently only photocopied one.)
I asked if they were serving salads. She said yes, so I ordered a Caesar Salad (rs90) and a Fanta (rs20).
The Fanta came a couple of minutes later, in a warm can with no glass.
A while later, she brought the salad.
"Did you want any sauce with that?" she asked.
"Just the Caesar dressing."
"Ketchup or anything?"
"No, just the Caesar dressing."
At this point, she stuck her fingers directly into the middle of my salad, wiped off some dressing, and held it up to my face.
"The dressing is already there. No ketchup?"
"No, no ketchup........ but are you serving food y-"
but she was gone.
As I ate my salad, I saw other people get their pizzas. But I couldn't get anyone over to my table. Eventually, a waiter on the other side of the restaurant saw me waving. He returned the wave with a 'what do you want' shrug. I responded with a 'could you come here please' gesture. He shouted across the room 'DID YOU WANT YOUR BILL OR SOMETHING?" I answered "I WANTED TO ORDER SOMETHING"
He took a few seconds to finish... leaning on the counter.... and walked over. It was 7:15 at this point, and I decided I didn't want to wait much longer, so I gave up on the pizza.
"Can I order some dessert?"
"We're not serving dessert right now."
"4-6:30?"
"Yes."
"Pastry time. I guess I'll take my bill."
The owner of Hitler's Cross drew ire from enough offbeat-news columns, newspapers, magazines, blogs and websites to finally give in and agree to change the name. Now, this was no big shocker to me. This is the third time I've watched this exact process happen. There was an entire chain of Hitler Bars in Korea when I was living there. The big Busan branch eventually caved in and changed their name to The Witler Bar, and the one near my apartment in Gimhae became 'Adrenaline'.
The new name of this most recent Feuhrer-based establishment has yet to premiere, and is still shrouded in mystery. The owner has apologized for offending people, but hopes that people will look beyond the name and start talking about the restaurant itself.
So to make up for this atrocious lack of real restaurant reviews, I went to the currently un-named eatery myself so I could launch my new restaurant review column:
As I made my way into Kharghar, the restaurant was easy to find, with it's famous giant red banner partially covered. It was 5:15pm when I made my way inside.
I sat down in one of the restaurant's 75 seats as the busboy was wiping down the table.
"Is it alright if I-"
But he was gone.
There were 5 other people in the restaurant. A couple sat in the hookah lounge with their small boy, and two teenagers sipped coffee in one of the booths to the left. I waved to one of the 7 people behind the counter.
He waved back.
I made a 'menu-opening' signal with my hands. He walked back into the kitchen.
I tried frantically to wave someone over, but after 3 minutes of getting brief eye contact but nothing else with every employee there, I walked up to the counter myself.
"Excuse me, can I get a men-"
"It's pastry time!" the attendant barked at me.
"I'm sorry?" I asked.
"Dinner is at 6:30. From 4-6:30 you can only get pastries."
"All right...." I smiled, "I'll.... come back at 6:30. You see, I'm doing a restaurant review for-"
but he was gone.
For a place that used the lack of Holocaust awareness in India as an excuse for their name, they are surprisingly impatient with those who are not aware of the delicate rules of pastry time.
So I had to kill an hour. But you know what they say about what makes a succesful business: Location, location, location! So I took the opportunity to scope out the area that the restaurant was situated in.
The restaurant is located in Navi Mumbai, the 'new hotness' across the river from the 'old and busted' Mumbai that I live in. The entire city seemed to be under construction.
I still had plenty of time to kill, so I went to see what shopping was available in the area.
After my hour was up, I went back to the restaurant to finally have dinner.
I took my seat once again, and once again alternated between waiting patiently and flailing my arms wildly hoping for a response. After about 5 minutes, a woman walked over and asked:
"So.... did you want me to...bring you... something?"
"Can I get a menu?" I asked.
"You can't get any food, or pizzas, or... anything.... we don't serve them until later."
"Ah yes," I replied. "Pastry time. When do you serve dinner?"
"Not until 6:30."
"But it's 6:35"
She stared blankly for a few seconds.
"Maybe 7."
"I guess I'll wait here....... but in the meantime, could I-"
but she was gone.
I looked over the photocopied menu that I wasn't allowed to order from. It consisted entirely of salads, bruschettas, mini-pizzas, and of course pastries.
It was another five minutes until I got her attention again, but that was only because she wanted the menu back to give someone else (they had apparently only photocopied one.)
I asked if they were serving salads. She said yes, so I ordered a Caesar Salad (rs90) and a Fanta (rs20).
The Fanta came a couple of minutes later, in a warm can with no glass.
A while later, she brought the salad.
"Did you want any sauce with that?" she asked.
"Just the Caesar dressing."
"Ketchup or anything?"
"No, just the Caesar dressing."
At this point, she stuck her fingers directly into the middle of my salad, wiped off some dressing, and held it up to my face.
"The dressing is already there. No ketchup?"
"No, no ketchup........ but are you serving food y-"
but she was gone.
As I ate my salad, I saw other people get their pizzas. But I couldn't get anyone over to my table. Eventually, a waiter on the other side of the restaurant saw me waving. He returned the wave with a 'what do you want' shrug. I responded with a 'could you come here please' gesture. He shouted across the room 'DID YOU WANT YOUR BILL OR SOMETHING?" I answered "I WANTED TO ORDER SOMETHING"
He took a few seconds to finish... leaning on the counter.... and walked over. It was 7:15 at this point, and I decided I didn't want to wait much longer, so I gave up on the pizza.
"Can I order some dessert?"
"We're not serving dessert right now."
"4-6:30?"
"Yes."
"Pastry time. I guess I'll take my bill."