Pune on my plate: How a former Taj chef is rewriting the rules of eating out in Pune

Tables are laid out with brass plates and bowls, cut-work mats and bunches of tuberoses in flower vases. As people sit down for a meal, it is easy to mistake the gathering for relatives visiting the Chakravartys.

Instead, this is one of Pune’s popular supper clubs, an eating-out concept that has travelled from across the world.

Towards the end of the 1990s, supper clubs began gaining popularity across the US, Europe and Cuba. They had the feel of dinner parties, packed more punch than a restaurant menu and were often as exceptional and experimental as an underground movement.

The supper club redefined the dining experience. At a supper club, seating is limited. Tables can be laid out in spaces ranging from college dormitories to private dining rooms. Strangers turn up after hearing about the club through foodie networks, friends or social media. Unlike at a restaurant, diners do not order from a menu but leave themselves in the hands of the chef.

Debashish, who has spent a lifetime working at Taj properties in India and abroad, brings his signature to his supper table, called Adda and Aroma. Rather than shock diners, he offers the grace of an old-world Bangali babu, even when cooking other cuisines. His cooking has aged with the quiet wisdom of years, and his supper club was born from a passion for traditional dishes and the joy of feeding.

Sunetra Roday, former principal of the Maharashtra State Institute of Hotel Management and Catering Technology, who attended a dinner by Debashish, her former student, says, “I remember the mutton. It was cooked beautifully, absolutely tender. He was serving us himself. There was hot food coming to the table. That is a luxury you cannot enjoy everywhere.”

While part of the meal is laid out as a buffet, allowing guests to fill their plates with rice, dal, vegetables, fritters, chutney, papad and cutlets, Debashish and Kanti move around the tables, filling glasses with beverages such as aam porar shorbot, serving hot puris or luchis, refilling curries and urging guests to “try some more of this”.

The dinners stretch over three hours, much like festive meals in Bengal, where courses are interspersed with conversation. The Chakravartys add to the banter.

“Supper clubs are very common in Kolkata and Mumbai. It is coming up in Pune and Bengaluru,” says Debashish.

He shares nuggets about Bengali food, such as the Bengali fondness for potatoes while serving aloo posto, and busts myths about the cuisine. “Despite a plethora of non-vegetarian dishes, vegetarian food holds prime position,” he says.

A guest quizzes him about the Maharashtrian bhaji and Bengali bhaja. Someone else points out similarities in ingredients across the cuisines. Soon, all the tables are talking to one another.

“I made many friends among the other guests and got to know many different things as we were talking all the time. We normally go and eat out, maybe call up a restaurant to book a table. You don’t know how long you have to wait and you cannot have a relaxed and leisurely meal,” says Roday.

She returned for a Parsi meal and enjoyed the mutton dhansak and patra nu machhi. “Though I have been in the field of food for very long, I was very impressed. The lagan nu custard was different, wonderful,” she says.

Sujata Banerjee, who had visited friends, says the supper club has an intimate, community-driven atmosphere where multi-course meals are shared by “strangers who later turn friends”.

“The food is soulful and personal, unlike in a restaurant. Here, you can get a taste of slow living. Without loud music or the rush, you enjoy the food. Importantly, you don’t feel heavy after eating so much,” says Banerjee, who is visiting Pune from Baroda.

Debashish’s supper club evokes memories of people in Bengal being served each course separately on banana leaves. It is an experience that cannot be captured within the confines of a dining room.

“Once the rains cease, we will set up such a table in the open air,” promises Chakravarty.