Restaurant Review: Mummy’s Kitchen
1 / 5 stars
‘A filling, ‘homey’ meal, if you’re not too picky and it’s the end of the month.’
They say you can never go home — after eating here you wouldn’t want to. Mummy’s Kitchen has been a regular haunt of mine since I outgrew my diapers. Mummy has a long reputation of being passable at the very least, but lately I feel the quality has gone down. It may be that the menu hasn’t changed in over 20 years, or maybe it’s just the plastic on the table cloth, what once seemed quaint and kitsch now just seems like it’s trying too hard. If only they had done as much with the food.
Speaking of which, the food! The first (and only) course, was a humble arhar dal with chawal rice, with a side of bharwa karela (a local preparation of bitter gourd stuffed with mud). Now, as a regular at mummy’s kitchen, I expected the staff here to know that I detest bitter gourd.
On bringing up the issue with the manager, instead of being offered a replacement, I was asked to finish everything on my plate. It was humiliating enough to be spoken to that way but then the manager reminded me that he’s still my father and while I’m living under his roof I have to live by his rules, which includes eating all my vegetables. Well, that’s certainly going on the zomato page!
My mood ruined, I laboured on. The dal was très peu de sel so I sent it back with a stern word. What came back was not an apology and complimentary tiramisu but a sobbing chef (who wasn’t even wearing a regulation face mask.) Mummy cried and went on on this whole thing about how I’ve been rude the whole evening while she’s been slaving over a hot stove. I said, well you shouldn’t be in the mummy business if you can’t take the heat, and I’ll show her rude when I write about the horrid tablecloth in the review later.
The manager went up to console her, shouting at me, as if it was me who told her to suck at dal. The amount of tears she shed would have been enough for the dal, I suggested, but that only seemed to make them more upset. I suggested to leave all this behind and go straight to the dessert, a robust kheer rice pudding, but the manager seemed more interested in telling me how I’m not too old to get a tight kantap on my ear unless I apologize to mummy
right now and thank her for her wonderful cooking. Of course, as a professional food critic, it won’t behove me to offer anything in return for food, so I got up and left… without tipping. Not surprising how I always seem to be the only patron there.
The Best Thing: The food is warm, plentiful, and free whenever you like!
The Worst Thing: Mummy gives you the leftovers enough for a week (two if you can push it all the way to the back of the fridge.)
Final verdict — You can’t complain (out loud.)
Price for one: One phone call a week, oh but it’ll be too much to expect you to call your own mummy yourself are you too busy for your own mother, listen mister don’t forget who carried you all those months well I did drop you once maybe that’s why you turned out like this
