They say every city has a character – an intrinsic, deep-seated flavor that shapes its people. What was once created due to a multitude of factors, then creates you. And Kolkata is no exception. Writing about Radhu Babur cha-er dokan (or tea stall) cannot merely remain a food review, for it is much more than a tea stall – this tiny space on Janak Road in the middle of Lake Market is a microcosm that mirrors the pulse of Kolkata. To be honest, it is one of very few such spots in South Kolkata, the posh, developed, and structured cousin of the archaic, gorgeous, and serpentine North Kolkata. And since I stay in south, this is one of those places where I frequently land up to soak in the vibe that defines my city.
“Adda” is a word that is well established in the vernacular, but it hardly has the significance as it does in a Bengali’s life. To me, it signifies a multitude of things – childhood memories, first cigarettes, freedom from studies, discussing art, science, and women – and the concept of adda, for us, is conversations with a group of people, tinged with an air of frivolity. “Chaa aar Ta” is another phrase we’ve grown up hearing – which means snacking with that MANDATORY evening cup of tea. When the two concepts converge, you arrive at the most intrinsic character of the city, and it is a phenomenon to observe. You walk out of your house any evening, and you will see inexplicable groups of people around every tea stall, engaged in deep conversations, replete with a bhnar/cup/glass of tea, and of course, cigarettes. Politics would be the major topic of discussion, which can, depending on the events of the day, veer to cricket, or fish prices in the market, or the impact of demonetization. It’s unreal how the same group of people can keep going at it every single evening, and this is a trait I have never observed in any other city. Radhu Babu’s is one such illustrious melting pot in the busiest part of south Kolkata, and it serves some lip-smacking “ta” or snacks (with the cuppa), fashioned after the unique amalgamation of Muslim and colonial food habits – that’s a story for another day. It has been the spot which many luminaries frequented, including no less than Ritwik Ghatak, Satyajit Ray, and a young, princely-looking Raj Kapoor (when he used to live in the city).
Well, down the years, the place has been branded as truly “iconic”, and justifiably so, as it is still capable of smothering you with nostalgia. Located on a by-lane, the customary “adda” groups would invariably be blocking the entrance, which you’d need to penetrate. Anybody unfamiliar with Radhu Babu’s could fail to see what’s special in the place – it looks extremely shabby, the place where they prepare the food may come across as a mess, but your best bet is finding a piece of a bench (with a table) where you can rest your butt. The menu is limited, and items are based on availability, but go break a leg, and order what you can! Of course, with the tea. The items I would particularly recommend are the Special Fish and Chicken Cutlets, the Fish Fry, the Mutton Cutlet, and the Chicken Korma (with a piece of bread). The Special Cutlet is a fillet of the meat fried with a layer of crumbly egg (Kobiraji basically), and it is great. The Fish Fry, as usual, is very good, albeit with a thinner layer of fish (expected at the price). The Mutton Cutlet is the braised cutlet you get in Kolkata, with a filling of pounded mince, onions, and coriander – super tasty as well. The Chicken Korma is a dream come true, and mopping up the delicious, silky smooth onion-paste gravy with the lightly toasted bread is an experience, true Kolkata-style. The Fish Fingers are good as well. None of the fried items are extraordinary, but the experience is priceless. And of course, there are the two stars of the meal.
Firstly, the Kashundi, or Bengali Mustard. I have never had a better one than Radhu Babu’s. Kept on every table in the squeezy bottles (that generally house ketchups in roadside shops), this is simply the most pungent and flavorful kashundi I have ever had. You may want to be careful with the dip, because a little too much can get you all teary-eyed, but the fun is in figuring that out. Once you identify the perfect amount of kashundi to complement your bite, you will have arrived at the singularly most fantastic match made in heaven. The second star is obviously the tea, again, made truly Bengali-style, with more water, less milk, and an avalanche of tea. Bengalis love their tea to be a bit more on the watery and stronger side, unlike the western part of India. The tea is sure to give you a kick, and it is the centerpiece of your experience at Radhu Babu.
Well, what can I say, Radhu Babu’s makes me wax eloquent. I am perhaps too afraid to highly recommend the place, because placing myself on the other side, I can perfectly see why one might not find this place to his/her liking. But for me, Radhu Babu’s will always remain one of the places that swathes me with nostalgia, the bittersweet kind that makes me wish I had kids, and that someday, down the years, I could get them here and say – “Look, this is your roots, the place where your city breathes its most intimate.” – all the while chomping on the fries with the same old kashundi, lazily sipping the same old tea, while the world around us hurtles to its manufactured, speedy demise. Touchwood.
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