Our lunch began with the pappadum selection.
The first thing we noticed as we slid across the comfy red leather banquette on the bottom floor of Gymkhana’s two-story restaurant was the music. A soft mix of jazz, rap, and R&B floated through the windowless, wood-paneled room, adding to the lushness of the warm lamps, rich color tones, and modern artwork. It felt sexy, cool, and secluded.
“I could just sit here for hours,” my fiancé Peter said. “It’s a total time warp in here.”
The first dish to arrive at our table was the £12 (about $16) pappadum selection, served alongside a trio of chutneys: coriander and mint, sweet lime pickle yogurt, and Goan prawn. The order was a purely nostalgic demand from me. When I was a very broke journalist living in London a decade prior, my best friend Kelly and I would treat ourselves to two “splurge” meals a week: an Indian dinner special on Thursday, and an all-you-can-eat Indian buffet on Sunday. Pappadums were always how the meal began.
Gymkhana’s pappadums were addictively crispy, and I was spooning all three chutneys on various entrées throughout our lunch. As I played back the voice recording, I remembered just how much I loved the dish.
“I really hit the pappadums hard,” I told the table. “I’m papa-done.”
