Know Your Local: Puchong Mess
As much as one would want to keep this place secret, it’s also the kind of place you cannot help but bring a friend, just so they too can taste the tangy, explosive flavours of that mango chutney.
Puchong is known to be a bustling town, busy with offices operating in the day and noisy with bars banging away in the night. Away from all these in a quieter, much less travelled part of Puchong is a hidden banana leaf house.
Upon finding it with the help of a certain navigation app, I ascend a flight of stairs leading up to the mess hall. A mess hall is defined as a room in which groups of people eat together regularly, often at sprawling long tables in a military-like manner. That is exactly the case at Puchong Mess, a small but sufficient space casually put together to do the necessary: feed people. By reputation I had already known that Mr. Param, who runs this hall, is also the founder of Chakra Catering located downstairs, and that this Chettinad-style eatery was established just last August to fully utilise his resources. Previously, his many workers and cooks would only be needed on the weekends when the catering service is in full swing.
On that Friday morning at 11.45am, a queue had already formed, crowding its small entrance. It would later grow to snake down the staircase — earnest diners vying for a spot in the mess. An aged Indian uncle greeted newcomers, myself included, instructing us to wait. In 15 minutes, a table for four cleared, and I was to join the young, jolly party of three ahead of me. I quietly celebrated the company I would be getting. My new friends told me that their aunt was an acquaintance of the owner’s, and that the place has become their regular haunt since it opened. They implored me to try the mango patchadi (chutney) and the mutton varuval (dry mutton curry), and with a last word of advice to “ask for more papadam”, they left me to my lunch.
Banana leaves are laid out on the table the moment one is seated. The waitstaff are quick to ladle rice, vegetables and curry, all tending to their tasks like clockwork. I’d later learn from Mr. Param that this is modus operandi. “Customers can wait half an hour at the door, but once they are seated, food is served almost immediately. I make sure of it. As much as food is important, so is service.”
The curry of the day was crab — sweet and briny with a spicy kick at the end. Because it was Friday, specials were also served. Aside from the usual offering of four vegetables, I got six alongside vadai, payasam (vermicelli with sweet sago) and cauliflower rasam. The watermelon raita (yoghurt) was unlike anything I’d ever had. More sweet than savoury, the dish was a juicy, refreshing addition to the spice-heavy meal. When the tray of irresistible sides swung by, I snagged a serving of deep-fried chicken 65 and mutton perattal (spicy mutton in gravy) — only because varuval wasn’t available on that day.
Mr. Param intended for the set-up to be an avenue where customers could experience and (surely) enjoy his Indian food. Well, not his — those of his eight cooks from India. The man, though reticent, was not afraid to admit that while he certainly knew how to eat like a chef, he couldn’t cook like one. His role in the kitchen is, however, one of great responsibility. “I taste, and if it’s good, I serve it to my customers.” Judging by the ceaseless stream of people coming in the door, this game plan has worked tremendously well.
The menu changes daily at Puchong Mess, but in true Chettinad fashion, there is always a dry dish, a dhal-based one, a raita and a chutney. The thought of buying so many different ingredients on a daily basis seemed to me like a costly practice, and Mr. Param agreed.
“It’s not about the money, is it? It’s about people like you coming here to tell me you’ve enjoyed the food.”
“It’s good karma to feed people!” Mr. Param’s niece Vitya, who helps him with accounts, quipped.
Since big profits were never part of his vision for Puchong Mess, he promised the place would stay small, serving simple food to the people who enjoy it. It is also because he believes it would be challenging to keep quality in check once the business expands.
Of all the top-notch dishes cooked up for this dining room, it was the mango patchadi that many return for time and time again. At the table next to mine, a Chinese man dining with his daughter and a longtime friend unanimously voted the chutney their favourite too.
The secret is in the spice. Mr. Param advocates the use of India-imported ones and it is the Indian masala, a spice mix peppered in most of the dishes here that he is most proud of. He asked a waiter to fetch me a small cup of it — the aroma was overwhelming, while the taste hinted of a spicy, savoury flavour that one imagines would manifest fully when cooked.
Long after the lunch crowds have dissipated, I got up to leave. If at first I felt that Mr. Param was a rather intimidating man, he was now like the stern uncle who shows his affection at the dining table. While insisting that I bring the masala home with me, he confided that he doesn’t usually have much to say to customers. But he does have one thing to ask of them: “Tell me if you liked the food… tell me if you don’t!”
It will take effort to find Puchong Mess, discreetly tucked in the shoplots two streets away from Columbia Hospital. When there, greet the man at the counter — that’s Mr. Param’s older brother, who will get you a seat. While waiting for one, get to know your lunch company. Once served, devour that scrumptious banana leaf rice with your hands. Be sure to ask for extra papadam to dip in the sweet payasam, the way Mr. Param likes to have his.
And if you enjoyed this, discover more delicious finds here in Burpple’s guide to Best Places To Eat In Puchong!
