How to Tell You Are At A Pretentious Overrated Restaurant

1. There are only rave reviews online. Nobody, save some bitter soul who lost his reservation after showing up “only one hour late”, has anything even average to say about the place.

2. The waiters call the wet tissues presented at the beginning of the meal the restaurant’s “signature touch”.

3. The people seated next to you are creating a commotion over a game of tug-of-war with a roomali roti.

4. The restaurant claims to have authentic Punjabi chefs while the “live kitchen” appears to have been invaded by the Chinese.

5. You have to rescue your cousin who has been wedged between an effusive waiter greeting patrons at the neighbouring table and the back of a chair.

6. The beaming waiter asks you to select any appetizers and drinks on the menu and the conversation goes:
- “What would you like to have? Please order anything at all.”
- “What would you recommend in prawn?”
- “Sorry, we’re all out of prawn.”
- “All right, so get us some beer to start with.”
- “Which beer, sir?”
- “Tuborg?”
- “Sorry, no Tuborg.”
- “Kingfisher?”
- “Sorry, no Kingfisher.” (In the city that is home to Uncle Mallya’s brewery)

7. You settle for a tall glass of Heineken which is promptly garnished with a handful of onions and radish by a clumsy waiter.

8. The restaurant does not have regular tandoori chicken. The waiter recommends a pindi whatchamacallit chicken which is a good example of how a chef can effortlessly reduce a chipper succulent bird to tasteless brown goop.

9. Your cousin is dejectedly pronging bits of fish kebab in his plate after the following exchange:
- “Sir, would you like the fish? Or would you like the fish?”
- “Erm… Lemme think. Shoot, I can’t decide. Oh, well, I think I’ll try the fish.”
- “Sorry, sir, we’re out of fish. I just dropped the fish at your feet.”
- “Ok, then I’ll have the fish.”
- “Very good, sir.”

10. Everyone is clawing their way toward the only tasty thing at dinner – the surprise birthday cake with a single candle.

11. The highlights of the evening are your hungry uncle mistaking the wet tissues for complimentary snacks and your cousin gurgling with happiness because someone spelled her name right on the cake – even if it meant having to squish a little icing on the cake hurriedly to convert a “G” to a “C”.

12. Everyone agrees that the best thing on the menu was the logo.

Bottomline: Jiggs Kalra needs an alternate career. I am done with pretentious restaurants. Give me some real food, please. Preferably on a plate, thank you very much.