Fat Kid Deli (Vashi, Navi Mumbai)

 So I’m sat here in Vashi waiting for a fellow Zomato reviewer to arrive. I never had realised there was an underground, sub-community of reviewers who meet up in person, until I saw a “Zomato Party” mentioned in one of the comments sections on the website. The thought of meeting up with a load of “foodies” ululating over dishes and taking innumerable photos of other’s food (by which time it is already cold) doesn’t really appeal to me.

Hence I opt for a tête-à-tête with this particular Zomato reviewer as I have been keen to meet her for sometime and the idea of meeting several foodies at a time was, as above, a thought too unpalatable.

Bizarrely it does feel somewhat like a Tinder date. After all I do not know much about the said reviewer except a small profile picture and a few shared interests (mainly restaurants!). I have also been made to travel to Vashi. It’s a mission coming from South Bombay and after a number of sweaty train stops I finally arrive in New Bombay. It sure feels new. Although the countless pan, cigarette and nimbu pani shacks outside the station remind me of the ‘Old Bombay’, the one I am most comfortable and acquainted with.

Now The Reviewer is here. A virgin to all this and being slightly apprehensive, I wasn’t too sure what to discuss with a Zomato follower (I guess food is a good start, right?!). Anyway, she seems to have done it all before and with an effortless nonchalance explains all about the Mumbai food scene and the ethics of Zomato. I can’t help but think she expects more from me: more poetry, more drama, more theatre. Sadly, as with most writers, food critics are natural introverts. For this very reason, we are better than our extrovert cousins when it comes to analysing and dissecting things in minute detail. The said Lady also has that new age neuroticism of taking photos: “food pornography” as they call it.

Mind you, there’s not much to see at Fat Kid Delhi. The Pav Bhaji burger seems to have been deliberately spiced down and there were just too many potatoes in it for my liking. The whole burger seems to be smeared in mango chutney too – a little OTT for my palette. The fries, skin on, are pleasant but the garlic aioli is strong enough to ward off a clan of dragons (apparently there is not a universally accepted term for a “group” of dragons). Be warned, this Aioli is certainly not for date night!

Finally on to dessert. I have yet to have a single decent waffle in Bombay and FKD was not changing my opinion. The Red Velvet Waffle was hard, stodgy and given the enormous portion size I think I ingested enough food colouring to make a fat kid dance the macarena on loop for 12 hours, upside down. That’s how nauseating this dessert was.

The waiter (owner?) had a rather surly look about him, but I must say I found that preferable to the happy clappy “yes, Sir” waiter brigade elsewhere. At least the gentlemen was efficient and not hovering around the table like a moth to a candle.

In short, after some of the reviews I had visions of finding a burger joint fit for the peroxide blonde Guy Fieri’s “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives” TV show (a must watch by the way). I wish I could have used some of Fieri’s classic phrases like “we are riding the bus to flavour town” or “shut the front door” to describe epic food; however I’m left wondering which one of Fieri’s tri-parite title (Diners, Drive-Ins, Dives) FKD belongs too. I’ll give you a clue: it’s certainly not Drive-In.

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