Mehrauli’s Olive Kitchen and Bar: A Mediterranean meditation

The grand banyan over you, the ridge giving peace new meaning on one side and a spa on the other, Mehrauli’s Olive Kitchen and Bar gives Sunday brunch a punch of the Mediterranean in true style and an authenticity that rarely visits food counters of Delhi, says MEENAKSHI RAO

Call it unreasonably beautiful, romantic or appealing — the Olive Kitchen and Bar, quietly but efficiently teasing your taste buds on a wholesome Mediterranean spread, is one of the few peace nooks that Delhi’s otherwise crazed existence allows. It’s groovy location and its supremely chic ambience gang up to take away the honours from its food spread but who cares about the nitty-gritties if the platter is reasonably tasty, the staff knowledgeable enough to suggest which wine would appeal to you and the good old banyan tree giving you a lesson or two in the light and shade of life.

While most would agree that this carefully nurtured banyan tree through which the sun rays play hide and seek on your countenance on a sunny winter mid-morning is the showstopper of this haven in rough-edged non-intrusive white walls and bubbly white river pebbles under your feet, the experience of lazing around a variety of food stations and free flowing Shangriyas in an old world courtyard haveli where humdrum is frowned upon, is as good as the meditation prescribed to calm your frayed nerves after a week of heavy work and heavier road traffic.

Like most Sunday brunches, this too starts a wee bit late at 12.30 pm if tradition is to be honoured. But unlike other brunch stations in and around Delhi, the live eggs counter tells you there’s breakfast too for the late risers. Brown and white organic eggs line this small kiosk rubbing its sunny side up with the pita and hummus on the Lebanese stretch right next door. Chef Saby is away for the day but sous chef Dhruv insists I try out their cheese omelette just after the shorts on the salad and the antipasti tables have the guests in mood for a lingering romance with gentle food. You may think 1.30 pm is a little out of time for an omelette but as you bite into the succulent role in muted yellow, and the cheese flows out unhindered, you get the real meaning of being never too late.

As I look up into the grand banyan, I understand why restaurateur AD Singh, who has earned kudos for his conceptual eateries which he started for a lark in Mumbai, has been over indulgent with this Mehrauli property. With the Qutub Minar taking an aerial view of this minimalistic Mughal mansion, the ridge spreading uncanny peace on one side and a spa luring you with its sound of silence (Asia’s best Dhruv insists) on the other end of a gated area wherein Olive nestles, it only seems natural that there’s a Mediterranean coup being planned to seduce Delhi as never before. “Fashion, style, art and music fuse here replete with drinks, camaraderie and conversation the Olive way,” Dhruv tells you. As you look around, you tend to agree.

It’s a house full and the young group of seven on the next table are celebrating a couple’s third anniversary. Over the rose wine and the Shangriya and the beer pints, there’s resonating laughter over a tiger prawn fresh from the grill. Both look tantalising even as you bite into Chef Saby’s special thin crust pizza which is just too delicate for any kind of weighty toppings. That’s what sets it apart and so good you feel nibbling at it that you forgive the absence of the long-legged spaghetti in olive, garlic and herbs which usually make your day.

The other stand-apart aspect of Olive is its exotic spread of in-house accompaniments — they too tower over the spread like the banyan tree. The sorbets are peculiar in enhancing your yen for maintaining the taste buds of a cuisine that stretches from France to Spain to Italy in true Medit style. Don’t miss their condiments cart, especially the flavoured butter in herb and truffle, or for that matter the homemade grain and Dijon mustard and the organic honey drawn from sweet clover, eucalyptus and wild forest. The red and green peppercorns coupled with aged balsamic and flavoured vinegar lend a touch of authenticity to the spread, enhanced by the truffle, extra virgin olive oil.

As the chicken poppers and N20 batter fried fish pass around, you literally get into the Chicken Velute soup with its lavish accompaniment of garlic baby croutons, polenta stick and smoke paprika dust. But then, there are these red-wine-and-cumin-doused icebergs to bring you out of a soup with the indulgence of parmesan shavings, feta, kalamata olives, black olive, green olive and grilled zucchini with an extra topping of salt baked nuts. Dhruv’s special Greek salad in vinaigrette dressing is just the upper you need for this gorgeous day bathed in sun and gentle breeze of a dying February.

There’s a lot dangling out of Olive’s anti-pasti counter, especially when it comes for fish exotica, but these are more appealing for the expat community than for the true Indian palate. Also, this was the first brunch in the city where I found no Indian cuisine live station and Dhruv insists this is only because “we have a truly Mediterranean spread by design.”

Point taken as you sip through your last Shangriya, enjoy the chef’s selection of home-made gelato and mud cake, wish the anniversary couple on the next table, bid goodbye to more friends three tables removed, take one last lingering look above as the grand banyan sheds some of its leaves in a cascade and drive out wondering when this cocktail of soul food and dalliance with the ultimate feast with peace would become an occasion next. But wait! Do reserve your table in advance as this is a sold-out place adorning the style mile of saddi Dilli on Sundays round the year.

Source: The Sunday Pioneer, 17 February, 2013