The Menu

Rohu simmered in a yoghurt-based gravy — gentler than a kaliya, and the one to order if you are new to Bengali fish.

The same roll with chicken inside as well — the one people queue for outside a Kolkata shop at nine at night.

Moglai porota — dough stretched thin, filled with egg and onion, folded into a square and shallow-fried — served with potato sabji.

The same folded, shallow-fried moglai porota, served simply with sauce.

The Kolkata street roll: egg set onto a fried porota, wrapped around onion, green chilli and a squeeze of lemon.

White peas cooked down with onion and spice — Bengal’s afternoon snack, eaten with a spoon and a scatter of raw onion.

Puffed rice tossed with mustard oil, onion, green chilli and chanachur. Made when you order it, because it must not be allowed to soften.

Flaky triangular porota, layered and griddled — the bread Kolkata eats with everything. Three pieces.

The Sunday fish curry of a Bengali house: rohu in a red, onion-and-ginger kaliya gravy, rich enough to want plain rice beside it.

Rohu in mustard and poppy seed — sorse for the sharpness, posto for the body. Two pieces.

Pomfret cooked the Bengali way, in a kaliya gravy rather than a coastal one. Three pieces.

Hilsa in mustard — the dish Bengal is homesick for. Two pieces, cooked in a ground mustard gravy with green chilli and mustard oil.

Mackerel, marinated and shallow-fried until the edges crisp. One fish, cut into two pieces.

Mackerel in a Malvani coconut-and-kokum gravy — the Konkan coast rather than Bengal, and hotter for it.

Mackerel treated as a Bengali would treat it: mustard and poppy seed instead of coconut.

One large crab in masala gravy. Eaten with the hands; there is no other way.

Two medium crabs in masala gravy.

One large crab cooked dry with coastal masala.

Two medium crabs, cooked dry with masala.

The same silver fish, in gravy rather than the pan.

Mandeli, the slim silver Bombay fish, fried whole and crisp enough to eat bones and all.

Parse — mullet — a small, sweet estuary fish that Bengali kitchens prize and most menus never carry. Two fish, four pieces.

Chingri malai curry: prawns in coconut milk, mild and sweet, the dish a Bengali wedding is judged on.

Prawns cooked dry with masala until the spice clings — no gravy, meant for roti.

Prawns marinated and seared on the tawa.

Pomfret in Malvani masala with coconut. Three pieces.

Kingfish in coastal gravy — one steak.

Kingfish in coastal gravy — two steaks.

Kingfish steak, marinated and pan-fried. The firm, meaty fish of the Konkan coast.

Two kingfish steaks, marinated and pan-fried.

Rice and chicken layered and cooked together, the way a biryani has to be to earn the name.

Kolkata-Chinese noodles with chicken — a Bengali dish by adoption, and unapologetically so.

Everyday chicken curry — onion, ginger, garlic and a gravy built to be eaten with rice.

Minced chicken cutlets, crumbed and fried. Two pieces, with the flat oval shape a Kolkata cabin would recognise.

Chicken cooked and served in the handi — slower and thicker than the curry, and the largest chicken dish on this menu.

Chicken cooked dry until the masala coats each piece. For roti rather than rice.

Chicken in Malvani masala — coconut, kokum and the coast’s particular heat.

Chicken with black pepper doing the work instead of chilli — a sharper, cleaner heat.

Boiled eggs crumbled and tossed through the bhurji masala rather than scrambled raw.

Eggs scrambled with onion, tomato and green chilli.

Boiled eggs, lightly fried and then simmered in gravy so the surface takes the spice. Four pieces.

A two-egg omelette, plainly and properly made.

Omelette cut and cooked into curry — a Bengali way with eggs that surprises people who have not met it.

Potato and green peas in a light gravy.

Bengali cholar dal: split chana cooked sweet-and-spiced, with coconut. Meant for luchi.

Rice and dal cooked together to a soft khichdi, with a tadka poured over.

Yellow dal finished with a hot tempering of cumin, garlic and chilli.

Alu bhaja — potatoes cut fine and fried till crisp. The first thing served on a Bengali plate, beside the rice.

Baby potatoes in a red, mild, faintly sweet gravy — the dum alu a Bengali kitchen serves with luchi.

The Maharashtrian khichdi, spicier than the Bengali one, served with raita to cool it.

Spiced potato between bread, pressed and toasted. Four slices.

Potatoes cooked dry with black pepper.

Soya chunks in onion-tomato gravy.

Noodles tossed with vegetables, Kolkata-Chinese style.

Vegetable cutlets, crumbed and fried. Four pieces.

Steamed rava idli with coconut chutney. Four pieces.

Rice tempered with cumin.

Steamed rice. What most of this menu is meant to be eaten with.

Five puris, fried to order so they arrive still puffed.

Five puris with potato sabji — the breakfast that settles an argument.

One large roti.

Two rotis with potato sabji.

Onion, cucumber, tomato and lemon.