Eating Out: It was this hard to eat out growing up middle class in the 80s/90s
You too? Growing up in the 80’s/90’s, middle-class Indian families could afford to eat out only a few Sundays.
They'd treat themselves at a ‘Shiv Sagar Pure Veg’ kind of restaurant. Families would stick to one restaurant for many years, till the service got bad, or like how we once discovered a cockroach in the biryani.
These restaurants would have upstairs seating with AC and downstairs without AC— the AC pricing up by a few rupees.
Staff had different uniforms— the order-taking waiter wore a white shirt or a british-time-wala turban with a pleated cloth that fanned out on top. The ‘boy’ whose job was to swipe the plates off the table into a steel bucket, wore a dark blue uniform and kept a plaid cloth over his shoulder as would all ‘Ramu’’s from Hindi movies.
Getting to the venue wasn’t easy.
Only a few families owned cars— if they did, it was a Maruti 800 or Premier Padmini. (The spacious kidnapping wala van (Maruti van) was a terrible visual choice for a family). Hence, most families had to split logistics — Usually chachu and you on a scooter; while the others squished into a rickshaw with the youngest kid sprawled across laps.
In my family of 6, we ordered the same meal for ~20 years.
Matar Paneer and Veg Kadhai. Experimentation meant switching to Veg Jal Fraizee or Veg Hydrabadi. Never to date have I understood the difference between these two. Occasionally we'd ask for Veg biryani (heap of rice topped by a red cherry, which I'd reserve for myself). A separate order was placed for Dadi— Jain subji or simple daal.
These restaurants rarely had music.
Unlike Indian wedding receptions, where you hear instrumental uninspiring versions of songs like ‘baharo phool barsaoo’, these restaurants made up for the music with high noise levels-- of chatter, laughter and screams from kids.
In the end of the meal, waiter would deliver a bowl with warm water and lime slice— we’d dip our caked hands into it and wipe it on the cloth napkin. The napkin never stayed on my lap somehow— it would end up on the floor or next to my plate.
Bill payment was drama time for all desi families.
If there were relatives, they would fight to pay the bill— they snatched the bill, and mom would snatch it back. We’d pull the ‘you’re a guest’ card on them. Dad would pay cash, while we attacked the fennel seeds (saunf) and my Dadi would put saunf into her hanky to save for us kids, as a little treat.
Every Indian family has one man who gets paan from a paan shop, located right outside the restaurant— the dad or the chachu or the older brother. Although we'd be stuffed to the neck post-meal— we always had room in the stomach for a paan before the ride home.
Simple times those were :) It's my belief the only change now is-- families *have* money to spend!
Did you also have such an outing in your childhood? Tell me about it!
