Out & About #444 | Part 2: The Kolkata Club

​Read Part 1 HERE !

​It wasn't long after I took orangecane on a condensed tour of Mississauga that we retreated back to Wi-Fi land and caught up on everything and anything baking- and K-Pop-related. Several performance videos and JaeSix vlogs later, we realized that time had slipped by in the blink of an eye and scrambled in preparation for the next activity on the itinerary.

​Supper was scheduled to take place at The Kolkata Club (sometimes typeset without the "The") at the corner of Eglinton and Confederation. My last memory of the plaza was obtaining a sickeningly sweet King Falooda (ick) just before New Year's Eve celebrations.

We pulled into the plaza with barely a few seconds left to spare and quickly spotted the bold, green sans-Serif outline.

​Upon entering the first of the double doors, I caught a glimpse of the serene dining hall. The next item of interest was the slightly menacing plaque tacked beside the second access of entry: it was a sign bearing the restaurant's hours of operations, along with notes enforcing an evening dress code that banned flip flops and shorts.
In all fairness, this was a subtle, reasonable approach from the establishment to maintain its sophisticated, swanky vibe without seeming upfront and offensive.

​A reception desk was positioned immediately behind the second door, just before an exquisite-looking bar. Spherical light fixtures emitted a hazy glow from above.

​Upon arrival, we were ushered into the black-and-white-tiled dining area with the choices of two tables situated near the window. Set atop each were cloth napkins, utensil duos, and tinted wine glasses.
Members of waitstaff donned uniforms in the form of white button-downs and black aprons, while the hostess, who was less frequently seen until the late evening hours, sported a muted cardigan and pencil skirt ensemble. 

​The introduction behind the restaurant was extensive, delving into the history of British Raj and how the concept of (The) Kolkata Club was developed. It was made aware to me that Kolkata Club was, in fact, the very name of the first club in India that permitted the entry of Indians after the country was freed from British rule. Consequently, the menu was a reflection of the various cultural influences on Indian cuisine.
In addition to an enticing selection of mains and share-ables, the restaurant also featured an extravagant assortment of alcoholic beverages, ranging from wines to whiskeys to exclusive fusion cocktails (think: Long Island Iced Chai).

View the full album HERE !

​Both of us are in possession of a distinctly low tolerance, and one of two was responsible for operating a motor vehicle in a safe, secure manner. That said, we opted for sparkling water - San Benedetto, to be exact - instead of the curiosity-piquing alcoholic beverages.
Also available were non-alcoholic concoctions, though this was not discovered until later.

​I requested additional information regarding the slender, rectangular sheet placed before us, to which the server responded with utmost readiness and enthusiasm. Further details and recommendations were obtained; Jalebi Chaat, Tandoori Lamb Chops, and Nimbu Tawa Fish were some of the suggested names.

Lamb isn't my preferred type of protein, and given that orangecane and I weren't exactly ravenous, a single appetizer was selected for sharing. The Jalebi Chaat was an intriguing, multi-toned tower bursting with individual yet cohesive characteristics. Its base was a mix of unsalted chickpeas and finely chopped white potato; at its peak was a savoury, deep-fried ring - a crispy pretzel known as a jalebi. Pomegranate seeds, puffed rice, tangy yogurt, and drizzles of orange- and green-toned chutney finished off the dish.
One could have easily consumed the plate as a cold entrée, for the underlying carby components were extremely filling. Although we could have easily gone for several more spoonfuls, our stomachs signalled a pause in preparation for the mains.

Paneer 'Cranberry' Lasagne and Nimbu Tawa Fish arrived simultaneously after a plate change.

Intended to be consumed as a one-person portion (as opposed to sharing), the meatless Paneer Cranberry Lasagne included a single block of sustenance bathing in makhani sauce. We had been warned that the dish's origins hailed from British influence, and to refrain from anticipating the classic Italian rendition. However, as far as I could tell, it remained a layered creation consisting of cheese served with a red sauce-esque identity.
I could not quite make out the supposed minced eggplant nor cranberries, though the paneer was an indismissable element. Lighter in profile than mozzarella or Parmesan, yet a little less fluffy than ricotta, the unaged South Asian cheese provided an interesting twist to the tried-and-true pasta many Canadians have grown up acquainted with.

The sauce in which the lasagne was submerged had a chunky, curry-like consistency. Its base notes were sweet and tart - much like a basic pasta sauce - but a unique blend of herbs and seasonings lent a gentle kick that could be clearly felt throughout the cavity of one's mouth.

​When the decision had narrowed down to either the Chicken Butter Masala or Nimbu Tawa Fish, two members of the restaurant staff spoke out in favour of the latter. Despite the addition of fenugreek, an herb reminiscent of dried spinach leaves (as told by our server), we were advised to choose the fish-based dish as it was exclusive to Kolkata Club. An original adaptation of the Chicken Butter Masala was stunning and available, though the alternative was one of true uniqueness, as we were told.

True to their claims, Nimbu Tawa Fish was a dish that skillfully incorporated a creamy, savoury spice-laced sauce with a flash-fried boneless fillet. Impeccably moist and tender on the inside, yet bold and well-textured on the outside, the lean source of protein provided wonderful contrast against the tawa masala.
Specifically made milder to suit our - well, my - palette, a decent amount of heat could be perceived towards the back of the mouth, nearing the throat, with each forkful. It was far from unbearable - much the opposite, really. The carefully adjusted amount of spice enabled even those that were unaccustomed to consuming pungent, herb-laden items to relish and enjoy the various seasonings that participated in its creation.

​Garlic Naan was the recommended side to eat in conjunction with the fish. Quite frankly, it was fragrant enough on its own, but the added chunks of minced garlic and green onion also managed to heighten the overall profile of the Nimbu Tawa Fish.

Important to note would be the substantial number of vegetarian dishes on offer. This should not be confused with the presence of greens, however. Leafy vegetables were scarce if not nonexistent in the items that we chose; in their place were heaps among heaps of seasonings and herbs, at a level where the average diner may suffer from surges of internal heat.
Similar to my previous experience at Kūkŭm Kitchen​, I deem it necessary to warn fellow patrons of potential side effects due to internal heat imbalance. Personally, I could have done without skin sensitivities and hoarse throat, but these situations may not happen for everyone. Should this be of pressing concern, be sure to consume sufficient leafy greens prior to dining and perhaps indulge in several cups of green tea.

​I stepped away from the table as the skies began to dim. The corridor leading to the washroom stalls was not just dim, but rather just dark altogether. With the exception of two faint bulbs, one was essentially trekking through shadows.
Instead of gender-separated stalls, the bathrooms merely adopted two spacious accessible stalls - one of which was noticeably cleaner than the other.

The ceiling was tall, hooks were present on the back of the door, and walls were adorned with a reflective, mustard-hued design. A basket consisting of mouthwash and thick paper napkins sat on the marble countertop, though disposable cups were nowhere in sight. Soap dispensers were automatic, but paper towel dispensers and garbage bins were not.
The most important factor to remark on would be the strong capabilities of the flushing apparatus.

​Unfinished dishes were packed up neatly in plastic containers and handed to me in a large brown bag. At this point, our stomachs had yet to conclude the digestion process. A dessert menu came swinging into our territory nonetheless.

More discussion and recommendations came about until we settled on the Mishti Doi Ke Roll and Parle G Pudding.

​Earning the high regard of restaurant authorities, the Mishti Doi Ke Roll was described as a cannoli-style dessert that employed yogurt. When the trio of rolls neared the table, it was revealed that there was, indeed, a high degree of resemblance to the Italian pastry. Each tube was constructed of a modest-tasting tough - fried to a rigid, firm consistency; encased within was a filling less viscous than whipped ricotta and comprising of a refreshing, subtly sweet flavour. The plate was garnished with almond slivers, boondi (a savoury tidbit akin to rice puffs), and, the most peculiar of all, sugar-coated fennel seeds that looked like Nerds.

orangecane proved to enjoy this pick a great deal, while I resorted to emptying the contents of the tube onto my plate and discarding the tough dough altogether. The thick, hollow cylinder of a case contrasted well with the sweet, tart yogurt, but the starchy texture of it simply did not align with my personal preferences.

​The Parle G Pudding brought about the recount of a back story: the idea had stemmed from a common gesture in Indian clubs, where orders of tea where normally accompanied by a Parle G biscuit. We were informed of the humorous catchphrase: "Here's your tea, and here's a Parle G."
This custard-centric cup utilized a base of partially crushed Parle G cookies, alternating layers of smooth eggy sweetness, and a shot of Kahlua for added pizzazz. The shot of Kahlua was served separately, and could be poured on top of the pudding as one desired. It was observed that as the coffee liquer penetrated the pudding, fragments of the egg custard would separate, allowing the concentrated flavour shot to saturate the milk-and-wheat cookies beneath it, thus contributing a sense of harmony and cohesion.

As a loyal fan of puddings and egg custards in general, the Parle G was a noteworthy spin on a tried-and-true classic. My only wish, as a caffeine fiend, was there to have been a greater dose of Kahlua.

​We departed the premises feeling warm, satisfied, and ridiculously full.
The evening had progressed in an unhurried, well-coordinated manner. Members of the front line staff did not hesitate to elaborate on any of the menu items in detail, and were even quick to distinguish specific aspects of note (ie. particular herbs used in the flavouring process and exclusivity). Portions were enormous for our appetites, though it is precisely this trait that renders dishes suitable for sharing.

​The Kolkata Club is home to an extensive menu of traditional Indian and modern British Raj cuisine, all whilst not hesitating to incorporate vegetarian options. The opportunity to customize the spice level and include add-ons for majority of dishes is an added bonus.

​I shall not dally in recommending the establishment to fellow food enthusiasts - even more so if they can tolerate greater amounts of spice. Dinnertime dining is classy and comfortable, while casual banter and barely-illuminated tables take over the late evening hours. In addition, the restaurant is housed within a small plaza, meaning that parking is abundant and free of charge.
Lastly, I'd like to extend my gratitude and appreciation to (The) Kolkata Club for the wonderful visit and chance to embrace this relatively foreign cuisine!

​Catch a recap of the day's adventure below!