Celeste’s new expansion into food is via an eatery called Eywa, a name that we find difficult to say and equally difficult to remember. This problem sets the tone for the trope of Complicated and Just A Bit Off which ends up defining our dining experience, despite the fact that the menu here is overseen by chef Saby of the delicious Lavaash. Eywa is best summed up as Grandma Fake, another injustice to the vintage, or a less-than-mediocre commodification of the good old days.
The Sixth Scents
The space is heavily perfumed, in a way that is good at first but not for long. Following the scent that is supposed to remind us of homeliness and warmth, we are led into a neatly put together but highly unimaginative room: white distressed tabletops are spread across the floor, circa 2001. Ersatz continues to scream in the artificial roses dotting the space, along with gold plated cutlery that is light enough to fling across the room with a wave of the wrist. Against the silver plated teapots and old looking but spanking new props, this we-are-trying-to-be-quaint-but-not-trying scene is frustrating, save for the (accidental) cordless landline that keeps ringing, perhaps the only cool thing about the constructed Grandma vibe.
Slowly delivered, each plate that arrives at our table feels like an accomplishment.
However, we do appreciate the tightly-edited, all-vegetarian menu. It offers a uncomplicated coffee and tea service, breakfast spread, and a variety of pizzas and pasta. A few questions to our sweet waiter reveal that there is some degree of uncertainty– he is unable to coherently describe most dishes. We try and make life simple by ordering a bunch of things he recommends. Slowly delivered, each plate that arrives at our table feels like an accomplishment.
…this is dangerously close to the breakfast we whipped up yesterday – except ours, at half the price and in our PJs, may have been better.
First is sweet corn soup and scarmoza, spinach and corn “bake” on “brown bread” – both are unspecific and while the former is acceptable, the latter crumbles quickly, the toppings too heavy for the flimsy bread. A wood-fired pizza comes out next, loaded with good sun-dried tomatoes, olives, cheese and jalapenos. Good but not great, we give the cracker thin crust a nod and while we don’t know it yet, this is the best dish of our meal. We also sample a masala omelette, soya sausages, and peanut butter toast breakfast plate that the waiter is kind enough to offer us, though it is well past the noon cut-off deadline. With nothing special going on and nothing hugely offensive either, this is dangerously close to the breakfast we whipped up yesterday while on our own cordless phones – except ours, at half the price and in our PJs, may have been better.
The bill arrives in a gold plated tin with a shallow engraving of regal elephants. While our tab is reasonable, the card machine will take four attempts to work. Although it’s nice of the staff to offer chocolate from the bakery while technical issues are solved, unlike stays at Grandma’s house, we find ourselves in a rush to leave. Suckers for a deeper experience no matter how dysfunctional, we rush off to a family lunch that was initially ditched in favour of this meal.
Getting there: 48 Meharchand Market, first floor, Rs 1500 for a meal for two.
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