A Refreshing Dip in the Flowery Drum

Sunny Sunday afternoons would normally see us feed like disdainful sophisticated creatures of elegant art at a rather sumptuous lunch at home; and then dash into the darkened A/C’ed room to fall flat like descendants of the pre historic lizard family, to wallow the rest of the afternoon in snore ridden short naps. Thanks to the bloody scorching sun for that delightful tropical Chennai climate which gifts anyone who so wishes in his/her right mind the most beautiful of all tans, afternoon siestas always seem to be the safest options that we are left with. However, this was one of those Sundays when dad turned on his adventure switch. Of course he had done his bit of the home work in snooping around eateries in and around his place of work. So there we were ... dressed in freshly pressed clothes and rightly perfumed countenances, jumping into our precious four wheeled chariot, driving away to a never before visited promising place that had some how managed to capture my father’s fancy. (Actually there are way too many things that manage to catch my father’s fancy.)

Up and down the Patheon road bridge, spinning around in the middle of nowhere we landed in the supposed parking lot of Prince Plaza. Found memories of vibrant childhood excursions on “Fountain Plaza - Alsa Mall - Prince Plaza” round trips flooded my mind. Wedging the car into an empty slot that we chanced pounced upon; we walked briskly like people of purpose. Riding the elevator to the second floor, we found ourselves being welcomed by the aroma of a smooth blend of Chinese spices. So ... in we walked, into Flower Drum, a vegetarian Chinese restaurant. With dim lit, well spaced and tastefully done interiors; the restaurant was truly inviting. Gladly and quietly we slipped into our comfortable seats. The soft chinky music and a well mannered waiter and above all a quite and sparsely populated surrounding were all that we could ask for. Even before we tasted a spoonful of the food that would soon be served, we could have fallen on our knees and done a Maya styled worship of thanks for such a delightful first impression.

Well we were there for food ... so cutting short all the fuss and getting to the heart of it all, we suppressed the tears of joy that threatened to flood our eyes and scanned the menu cards that we were presented with. There were some really exotic sounding items on the listing. We ordered for some ginger and jade soup to go with crisp fried minced vegetable balls and honey dabbed cauliflower (or was it baby corn?) Manchurian kind of starters. Sipping and nibbling, warning ourselves not to guzzle and gorge like pigs, we ordered for a main course of Kwe-theya (ok .. at least that the way the pronounce it ... flat Thai noodles), spicy Hao Hao mixed vegetable gravy, some rice based dish and a couple of delightfully exciting dishes which had names that could never be pronounced by a true south Indian. Nodding and passing meaningful glances of approval at every mouthful, unanimously we graded the restaurant a full 5 out of 5. Sadly most Chinese restaurants think that sinking their dishes in soya sauce and dousing them with Ajinomotto would fool their customers into thinking that they were eating out of the kitchen of slit eyed chinky people living across the North-Eastern boundaries. Sharply in contract, the food at Flower Drum had a very refinely acuated taste that effortlessly transports you to the foggy foot hills of a wintry Chinese rice field.


Getting back to the table, we ran our finger through the menu card to satiate that naughty sweet tooth in us. Hmm.... I would have loved to miss this part of the recount, for the desserts were not as good as the soups, starters, dimsums or satays. We had ice Katchang and two leeche and peach based desserts. We didn’t mind that however, for on the whole the dining experience was rewarding in itself. Snapping a few pictures over spoonfuls of ice creams, promising to make another visit when my brother gets home, we thanked the polite guy who waited on us and crawled out belly full. Another exquisite feather on a foodie’s hat, Flower Drum!

The Family Sin

Daily news letters from the Men’s Health, 45 minutes at the gym at the crack of dawn, and a very strict luncheon diet of fresh salad. I am an obnoxious health freak. Often my mother would, if allowed, smash the pot of meticulously baked/fried/marinated cheese based European delicacy right into my face, when I make those sordid blood boiling home-food-is-to-carb-n-fat-ridden speech to a qualified dietitian cum pro health care personnel cum out-of-the-world cook, mom. It is but very difficult to shake of the suspicion of my mother slipping in spoonfuls of ghee or well hidden/blended thick shreds of herbed cheese, into otherwise harmless simple home made dinner. Thanks to the weakness for sinful addictive fat glorifying Italian dishes that runs in the family, every other occasion where all the members of a normally disoriented family (ours of course!) choose to decorate the dining table with their respective august presence; there is this unanimous call for an fav Italian or white sauce related dish (If my grandmother was still alive she would have run around in circles spelling a hideous curse and bump us all on the head with her choice frying pan.)

Given the fact that mom is a great cook (no ... I don’t mean the kind of son-mother emotion that spells charred spoiled hapless food made divine by motherly love. Mom has in the past appeared as a highly qualified judge at many cooking competitions.) and father a chef and maestro of south Indian and continental gourmet food; extra pounds have found their way, hands down, around other wise chiseled hips and callipygian features. In short good food is always at an arms length. So, when such a gluttonous family decides to grace unique and something-different kinda restaurants; where do they go???

I don’t want to turn this into another painfully long account of our explorative adventure into the heart of Chennai, a city sadly cloistered with many idly-sambar-coffee eat outs. I shall promise myself to write in a more proper sequence, elucidating in my well appreciated erudite style (a man needs some amount of self motivation you see ...) the numerous houses of foodied experience we have had over the past few months. Adios for now.