Juice

“Tati is full tonight” – my friend, S, called to say – “Do you know any other place we could go to?”.

I thought hard – after coming back, my restaurant life has been limited to this group of friends with whom I go out at least once a month – all of us to escape from our normal life and for plenty of laugh. This also invariably means we always draw curious glances from the other patrons for not just looking different. It has also become a ritual to stay until the restaurant tires of us and informs us it is time to close. We normally look at each other and ask for the bill reluctantly. It is time to go back to real life – each of us will be forced to wake up quickly – others by their small children and me by my very erratic body clock.

So when we need to think of finding a restaurant 15 minutes before our appointment, it is really not easy to find one. For one, the environment has to be really good. What does good mean? – It could mean exotic or rusty or modern or local or elegant or … you get the picture. NO Subway, NO McDonalds, NO normal Starbucks, NO cafes on the Hauptstrasse of Heidelberg – but if it is a restaurant on the Hauptstrasse with “that” feeling, it is a different matter – AND NO INDIAN RESTAURANTS. Oh! I forgot to mention – the food has to be good. The person choosing the restaurant has to guarantee the quality of food.

So 15 minutes before, all dressed in a pink top with white skirt, I sit browsing the web. For each restaurant I find, I call V to check whether that is a good one.

Finally I remember Juice in Heidelberg – the party hosted by a friend was great – the place “seemed” to be amazing (it was more than a year back). The food – I had no clue since he had ordered privately. “Let’s take the risk” – said V. I called to make a reservation – “There is place only on the long table” – said the guy who answered – “Is that ok?”. Of course.

We walk into the restaurant. It is as I remember it – from outside you get the feeling it is closed but if you look carefully through the window, you will get some glimpses into the life inside. The modern mixed with rustic look captures my eye. The restaurant is separated into three parts with the decor. The long table is in the middle part and close to the bar AND wooden.The 5 of us try to squeeze into the table. We are presented with the menu (the special menu is also chalked on the blackboard running along the wall in the middle). The shining metal goblets of lights hanging over each table reflect the restaurant.

Each of us orders the drinks and the food and wait patiently. At 9:00 in the evening, we are all very hungry. The waiters are friendly, advice us, laugh with this crazy bunch of girls, help us to change the table when a private one becomes free and brings a comfortable chair for “N” from the other end of the restaurant. This care continues all evening.

The cocktails arrive, they are the best I have had since coming back. We decide on pastas and burgers. “A” decides not to order pasta with prawns in it “They will just put so few of them into it that only pasta will remain and I will be disappointed” – she said and we sympathized – we know how it is with restaurants. V orders what “A” rejected.

One of the best burgers I have had in my life makes me finish the whole plate – as usual I do not touch the french fries. The pasta portions are large – the number of prawns are double what “A” predicted and more than enough for the amount of pasta. I help “N” to finish her pasta. A voice says from the back “You should not share your pasta – you have to eat for two” – the waiter stands smiling at “N” who is expecting her baby next month.

We order more drinks and dessert. It is kitchen closing time – there are no desserts than Crème brûlée. We order Crème brûlée for all of us which they agree to make though kitchen has closed. As I am not too fond of Crème brûlée anyway, I liked this one as much as the previous ones I have had – my friends who normally love it said it did not pass the test. Except for this one glitch and “V”s last drink (the name of the drink had “herbs” and it tasted like it did), the whole evening was great.

At 1:05 a.m the only other remaining guests left. We wondered whether we should leave. “We will take some time to finish the work required to close the restaurant – you can stay until then” – after the normal experiences of getting kicked out exactly at the closing hour, this is a refreshing change. We stay chatting – “Maybe we should stay here until breakfast”. They have a breakfast which is supposed to be excellent too. (Photo courtsey for first and last ones Juice facebook page).

Eating out

“You should try this place around the corner. It has the best dinner in Brussels”. I was being driven to Gare du Midi one Friday evening on my way to Germany. The taxi drivers in Brussels speak English – some with difficulty providing me to try my three words of French and some quite easily providing me with insights into immigrants lives or into some Brussels life in different strata of the society. So it was that as we crossed the intersection of Chaussée de Waterloo and Rue Washington, he gave this all sweeping comment about Hector’s chicken.

I resolved then that I should end my self imposed exile from these joints which in my mind were fast food. Yet, my schedule and my laziness prevented me from walking out to one of these.

After a week of staying away from any serious non vegetarian except fish, I talked my husband to visiting this corner fast food with red signs proclaiming the chicken chef. As I ordered, a basket of chicken tenders was thrown into hot oil to fry itself out. I paid and picked up the bag and walked home in complete anticipation. Tripping over my saree in my hurry to reach home, I swore in impatience as the traffic lights turned red as we approached.

Perhaps it was the anticipation, perhaps it was the amazement that a fast food could really serve the best food in Brussels, I am afraid to say that Hector’s chicken as only confirmed my view about oily deep fried chicken tenders and it will be sometime before I remove my lack of faith in fast food chicken fries joints.

Will I listen to recommendation from taxi drivers in future? – I think I will – you never know where there is a hidden gem.

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The other day I had been to Nespresso to get their new flavours. I had seen 5 new colours on the window of the Nespresso shop in Milan and my curiosity was aroused. So I took the liberty of a free Saturday morning to get my new flavours.

 

What caught my eye was Indriya from India. I had tasted their previous flavour from India when they had brought out the limited version. It had been too strong for me but there were others who had loved the strong coffee. The colour of the Rosabaya from Columbia caught my attention than any other feelings besides knowing that Columbia had a big coffee production. There was nothing of interest in the Dulsão though… I do not know why I was intrigued by this – perhaps because I did not know before about Brazilian coffee.

I also bought 2 packs of the lungo new varieties. Again, I do not know why – was it my inherent loyalty to the brand or was it George Clooney? There were untried Lungo varieties still at home. Yet, the compulsive buying disorder played up just when I was ordering.

 

Once I was there I picked up two Dolcettis (Framboise-Gingembre or Raspberry-Ginger and Fleur d’Orange or organge flavoured) at exorbitant prices.

 

In anycase, one box of Columbian is almost over. Indriya is not as strong as the last one – though I agree with Nespresso that it is probably best used in Capuccino rather than as espresso.

I do love the Framboise-Gingembre and I have not yet opened the other Dolcetti – it says it needs to be finished quickly after the bag is opened.

and yes, Parmanu can make out now which capsule I use – I tried to cheat him to finish the most unpopular one in this household – the strongest “Ristretto”. He patiently put up with it for 2 days before venturing out with the courage to say it – “there is something different about the flavour you have been giving me – can I have the Columbian in future?”… sigghhh… I still have another 5 capsules of the Ristretto. Any volunteers to drink it?

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As I was returning from the Nespresso shop, I noticed the Sushi Shop which had escaped my eye before. I ventured into it and found a few intriguing things. It was quite affordable, the take away did not seem to have wilting fish, the menu could satisfy a few of my cravings and yes! they deliver at just 2 Euros extra. I went away with a Menu box and a book of Menu. The next two weeks I would have no chance to eat Sushi, I assumed.  

My husband is revelling in his new found skill. These holidays he finally learnt how to cook and made the full meal all by himself (before all my readers go into wonders let me explain – in his own terms “Even when I cook these things it tastes so good – you must have taught me the easiest things”). So there was really no chance to eat out with all the culinary experiments ongoing. So finally day before when we were both tired, I picked up the phone and ordered Sushi for myself and California rolls with cucumber and avocado for him. 

I normally deplore delivered Sushi - they are not that fresh by the time they arrive from RestoPresto even if ordered from Shogun, one of the better Sushi restaurants I have been to. So when my door bell rang just in 20 minutes, I was astonished. As I stirred a mount of Wasabi into the soya sauce, I realized that my worry about not ordering extra wasabi was unnecessary – there was enough wasabi even for the wasabi smoker like me (infact there was even some left over at the end).

Yet, when I closed my chopsticks around the Sashimi, I realised that the pieces had not been disjointed from each other. I am a poor chopstick user and it took me a bit of struggle to pry the piece I was targeting free from the next one. The thin thread joining them should not have been there if it had been cut as Sashimi should be carefully cut (I learnt from a bit of research later).  Apart from this grave mistake, the fish was as fresh as it could be when delivered. As I smoked the wasabi in pieces in between, the tuna and the salmon melted into my mouth. With 4 different types of fishes, I was a satisfied customer for the money I was paying. Of course I could have had better one if I had gone to a couple of other restaurants – I would have also ended up paying 3 times as much as I paid.

So I think after two years, I have found myself a place to order dinner from, get it quickly and still have the satisfaction of getting my return on investment. If I feel like it, this place is close enough for me to walk to and sit with other people around me.

Altogether, I think it is a good discovery for a normal evening eat out – not for a special evening though.

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A new shop has opened 2 streets away from my apartment. With a name like “Kerala” there was no doubt I was going to enter it. I now get the special bananas and some pickles and spices without having to talk myself to going all the way to Chaussée de Gand. Best of all – I get to speak in my own language, Malayalam and with a weather and atmosphere as in Bangalore, I can even imagine that I am back in Bangalore. Altogether, it has been a good 2 weeks with respect to food.