A few weeks ago, I was dining at a coveted Kolkata restaurant—their menu a thoughtful play on the city’s street food and Bengali home cooking, elevating it to the level of modern fine dining. But each dish came with a story—of its inspiration, origin and the chef’s personal connection to it—that lasted more than a couple of minutes. Time so long that by the time we got to our first bite, it had already gone cold.
“It feels odd to start eating while they are still talking, but I like my food hot,” said my friend.
I am not against a restaurant trying to tell me why they have chosen a particular dish to be on their menu. But does every dish need to come with a backstory, a nostalgia-dripped anecdote and a “tip” on how to eat it to perfectly bring out its true flavours?
In another instance of dining in the same city at Amar Khamar Lunch Room, which highlights Bengali home cooking, each course was served with just the description of what was on the plate. We were left to our own sensibilities to mix and match the dishes in whatever order we preferred. The experience itself became the story.
We all love a good story, but as part of the dining experience, storytelling is one trend that seems to be getting out of hand. A friend who recently dined at a restaurant in Pune says she dreaded each time the server brought out a new dish—it meant a few minutes of monologue. “It was stretched so far that we intentionally ate slow to avoid the next story session,” she says. The trend is taking over the bar menu too. Each drink now has a connection to a childhood memory or is rooted in the principles of Ayurveda.
There is a desperate attempt to fit everything into a narrative, no matter how long, absurd or inconvenient it is for the diners. It also takes away the joy of eating, especially when I am out there to enjoy a meal with my friends or family. The constant interruption feels like an intrusion eating into my time.
There is a fair amount of good storytelling too. The experience at The Bombay Canteen in Mumbai is pleasurable because despite the depth with which each dish is made, the explanation is kept to the minimum. Last month, at a pop-up in Delhi curated by chef Vanshika Bhatia at indicā, the menu drew inspiration from autumn. Bhatia’s storytelling was crisp—not taking more than 30 seconds to describe her dishes.
These chefs and restaurants have set a benchmark for how storytelling can turn a simple meal into a memorable experience. While the new ones aspire to be in the same league, they miss the fine line between precision and going overboard. And that requires training. If a server is telling me the chef’s story, ensure that he is trained for it, and is not just made to parrot something from a word doc.
In my more recent experiences, chef Jigmet Mingyur, who runs the 10-seater restaurant Tsam Khang in Ladakh, wrapped-up a nine-course meal in two hours, while running the entire show solo. As a diner, I just want the right amount of information that will elevate my dining experience and not make me regret picking the restaurant.
If a chef has grown up on a farm and has brought elements of that into the menu, I want to hear a brief version of his story and let the food take care of the rest. And once in a while I would just prefer enjoying a bowl of meat broth without knowing whose grandmother cooked it for whom and in what season.
Shirin Mehrotra is a Delhi-based food writer and researcher.