As an organisation, The Bombay Report is shielded from bankruptcy by our highly resilient long-term strategy of not having a business model. Unfortunately, most other companies simply don’t have access to the business acumen of our Editor In Chief, Hailey, a three year old puppy; and therefore they’re at constant risk of insolvency. Mumbai has seen its fair share of great restaurants closing down over the past few years, and by the time we’re through with the pandemic hoax, you can be certain that many more will follow suit. But this isn’t about statistics, it’s about three incredible restaurants that failed the tribulations of the free market, but still won our hearts:
On the outskirts of Pali Village, was a restaurant called The Hungry Duck, a place so small and inconspicuous, you could be forgiven for not noticing it. But that would have extremely unfortunate, because as far as burgers go, they were one of the best in the businesses, and as far as Goan food goes, they were one of the only in the business. We were especially fond of their Crazy Burger, a delightful assortment of ham, bacon, salami and chicken which could only have been assembled by a raving lunatic, hence the name. However, we were less than thrilled by their ridiculously tiny furniture which over the years, failed to scale with our expanding waistlines.
It may have looked like it was run out of somebody’s living room, but Goa Bhavan was every bit as real a seafood restaurant as anything you can think of. They never listed their prices online, which while seemingly suspicious, was quite stupid of them in retrospect since they were by far the cheapest seafood restaurant for miles around. Our favourite part about Goa Bhavan was easily their Bombil Fry, which was as crispy as KFC, and less flimsy than Derrick the Intern’s alibis, with the Surmai Tawa Fry a very close second, despite it being unnaturally dry for something that spent the majority of its existence under water.
As the guardians of bar culture in Mumbai, we were furious when our sources in the field informed us that there was a new restaurant in town serving alcohol by the quarter without taking our blessings; we vowed retribution. However, our feelings of anger and resentment were soon soothed by Quarter Canteen’s dirt cheap alcohol, noteworthy starters, and a picture of Chulbul Pandey painted on the wall. For a restaurant that went out of its way to stock up on the most cliché dive bar spirits and master the dim lighting of most local bars, we were disappointed to see how they gave up on authenticity halfway through and decided to needlessly put graffiti on the walls; and not paan stains. Take away the glitz and glamour, and add a few stabbings, and they could have become the dive bar Bandra deserved.
What fallen restaurants do you really miss? Do you think the lives of some restaurants matter more than others? Let us know on Instagram and we’ll add your answers to our obituaries.