Monday, October 12, 2009
Prithvi Irish coffee, a tradition
I went to Manoj Joshi's superb play Chanakya this Sunday. It was playing in south Mumbai and just when I was bemoaning the fact that things don't seem to move up north, to our forsaken suburbs (though we have recliner seats in cinema near home:)the play was announced in Prithvi. We booked online, such a smooth operation. And after years nearly, we went to Prithvi. Got the tickets also immediately, though I wondered how the delivery will happen. The last time I went, was a few years ago, to attend an experimental play and having foolishly ordered pasta and waiting eternally for it as the Q to enter the theater grew (No seat numbers in Prithvi, so this ancient, out-of-sync with modern times practice).
Any case, we managed to float in eventlessly, and were amused to see funny incidents of Mumbaikarbrazenness -- squeezing one extra person into somebody's lap, trooping in late and squeezing out the rest of early comers; and during loo break try to take over somebody's else seats (if that is possible, since there are no numbers). Sitting on the steps, though the usherers keep pleading to leave it for the actor's passage. And then, of course, the brazenness of letting your mobile ring loudly in this tiny theater, so poor Joshi had to restart the act. But Mumbaikars are very game and such brazenness is attempted because they don't mind that squeeze, that elbow, that jostling sense of being in a crowd, even to watch a classy play.
The Cafe: Like I said, the last time, a few years I was there, I had ordered a pasta plate for my ever-hungry, cribbing daughter and was still waiting as the Q grew. So that was an annoying experience.
This time we had a slightly more irritating experience, when the waiter boy (Nandu something, since I was irritated enough to ask his name) took the Rs 500 we gave, took down the order and said he will give change and items to our table... but when another waiter went to enquire, this boy was standing in front the guy at the counter who was saying no such order had been placed and he did not know anything about it (or some such nonsense which happens when we do these silly trusting things that should not be done at such public spots). Any case, my body language was aggressive as I wagged my hand at the boy who I recognised (and my husband, that trusting fellow who never takes receipts and always then sends me out to salvage the situation, did not remember his face)... (If anybody at Prithvi is reading it and wants to contact me, u may email me at firstname.lastname@example.org and next time I come I will point the boy out to you)... Any case, he readily handed over the change, despite having acted as if he knew nothing of the altercation happening.. Irritating...
Any case, the irish coffee at Prithvi is a Mumbai tradition by now! I have always had it. This time I pigged on a blueberry cheesecake (which just last week I attempted at potpourrie too). The latter is more grainy, and I always vote for that texture. The Prithvi one is smoother.. and quite delicious in its own right. Lovely.
The heavy-duty stuff was not available -- pasta, eggs and such items because the menu is apparently going through an overhaul. But otherwise, despite the old chairs that have not been changed since I saw them years ago, despite the sense of something patchy and tatty at Prithvi, it still rocks. And is a nice place to hang out with friends, if you get a seat:)
The play was superb. And is running housefull:) Thank god the city has it culture spots still...
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