met, atleast. Perched on the third floor, the restaurant occupies a fairly large space — with indoor and outdoor seating that gives diners lots of breathing room. With Hindi film music from the ’60s and ’70s wafting in, the restaurant is done up in a very Indi-pop manner with prints of locations of perhaps Old Delhi on the wall, funny one-liners and drawings of people. And there are the auto rickshaws that are actually tables for four.
Given that Bangalore city isn’t exactly delighted with its auto rickshaws, I wasn’t very surprised when people refrained from sitting in them.
Khaaja Chowk doesn’t quite qualify as one of the best looking restaurants in the city; it somehow appears to have been a slight half-hearted job.
Fixing the initial chill of the rains with a cup of rather bad coffee, I went on to pick the Dahi Phuchka Kolkata Se. Six portions of the stuffed puri came on a bed of shredded cabbage. I am not sure what the shredded cabbage was doing there in the first place because I don’t remember eating Dahi Phuchka in this way — ever — even on the streets of Calcutta. And to be honest, shredded cabbage isn’t exactly the best decorative for a
restaurant.
Ready to begin the evening with some masaldedaar khana, I ordered the Kakori Kebab with their inhouse special Bloody Mary; that reminds me, the bar menu at Khaaja Chowk isn’t a killer, usual cocktails and spirits are what’s on offer. Don’t even bother looking for unusual combinations and names.
The Kakori, one of the most famous creations of Uttar Pradesh, was the most pleasant surprise of the evening — tender lamb mince, melt-in-the-mouth, the kebab was quite delicious. While raw papaya, used as a tenderiser, is one of the most common ingredients, the kebab by itself has quite a few versions. Cashewnuts, used to add that rich flavour, are one of the popular choices. Sometimes, chana dal is used as a binder as well, more so when the calorie count of the kebab is kept under control.
The Murg Ka Shorba that came after the kebab was good to go as well —  except  for the fact that shredded chicken would have been a better texture to go with, instead of using bits of chicken cubes that tasted only like boiled chicken often used in soups.
Then on, from the Mutton Chaap Curry to Peas Pulao, the disappointng raita to the butter naan, the meal at Khaaja Chowk was quite average. In fact, at no point during my meal did I feel like jumping from my seat to hug the chef for making my night divine. The Matka Dum Biryani, in its bright orange avatar, defended the kitchen well — its subtle flavor and hint of coriander, used for the garnish as well, worked well to keep the pace of the meal satisfactory. But the lamb chops weren’t exactly as good as I’d hoped they would be — the meat wasn’t at its tender best and the curry was almost sweet, which isn’t exactly a problem under normal circumstances, but a gentle bite would have been
helpful.
Good North Indian food doesn’t necessarily have to depend on excessive ghee or oil to make a hungry soul happy. What it needs is patience and devotion to the root of the cuisine. And given that the service is quite quick, would I be mistaken to assume that a lot of dishes are kept prepared ahead?
The Rocket Kulfi is supposedly one of the restaurant’s hit sellers but by then, I had run out of patience and inclination.
I don’t see Khaaja Chowk faring badly in the city, albeit the fact that it would have to face serious competition from some already-established North Indian restaurants in the city, ones that are perhaps far better. What more could the promoters ask for?

Rains came like manna from heaven as Bangalore clogged up with cars trying to make their way through wet roads and overcast skies. And some kebabs and a spicy cocktail was perhaps the best decision I made that night. Khaaja Chowk, the newly opened restaurant on 100 Feet Road, has been on the radar of many foodies, especially those who tend to compare all the desi restaurants in this part of the country to some restaurant in the other metros.
So, where does this restaurant stand as far as the others in the city are concerned? Somewhere safely in the middle,
I’d say.
I can’t quite write about the restaurant without talking about its décor first, something that I don’t care about most of the time, as long as hygiene standards are met, atleast. Perched on the third floor, the restaurant occupies a fairly large space — with indoor and outdoor seating that gives diners lots of breathing room. With Hindi film music from the ’60s and ’70s wafting in, the restaurant is done up in a very Indi-pop manner with prints of locations of perhaps Old Delhi on the wall, funny one-liners and drawings of people. And there are the auto rickshaws that are actually tables for four.
Given that Bangalore city isn’t exactly delighted with its auto rickshaws, I wasn’t very surprised when people refrained from sitting in them.
Khaaja Chowk doesn’t quite qualify as one of the best looking restaurants in the city; it somehow appears to have been a slight half-hearted job.
Fixing the initial chill of the rains with a cup of rather bad coffee, I went on to pick the Dahi Phuchka Kolkata Se. Six portions of the stuffed puri came on a bed of shredded cabbage. I am not sure what the shredded cabbage was doing there in the first place because I don’t remember eating Dahi Phuchka in this way — ever — even on the streets of Calcutta. And to be honest, shredded cabbage isn’t exactly the best decorative for a
restaurant.
Ready to begin the evening with some masaldedaar khana, I ordered the Kakori Kebab with their inhouse special Bloody Mary; that reminds me, the bar menu at Khaaja Chowk isn’t a killer, usual cocktails and spirits are what’s on offer. Don’t even bother looking for unusual combinations and names.
The Kakori, one of the most famous creations of Uttar Pradesh, was the most pleasant surprise of the evening — tender lamb mince, melt-in-the-mouth, the kebab was quite delicious. While raw papaya, used as a tenderiser, is one of the most common ingredients, the kebab by itself has quite a few versions. Cashewnuts, used to add that rich flavour, are one of the popular choices. Sometimes, chana dal is used as a binder as well, more so when the calorie count of the kebab is kept under control.
The Murg Ka Shorba that came after the kebab was good to go as well —  except  for the fact that shredded chicken would have been a better texture to go with, instead of using bits of chicken cubes that tasted only like boiled chicken often used in soups.
Then on, from the Mutton Chaap Curry to Peas Pulao, the disappointng raita to the butter naan, the meal at Khaaja Chowk was quite average. In fact, at no point during my meal did I feel like jumping from my seat to hug the chef for making my night divine. The Matka Dum Biryani, in its bright orange avatar, defended the kitchen well — its subtle flavor and hint of coriander, used for the garnish as well, worked well to keep the pace of the meal satisfactory. But the lamb chops weren’t exactly as good as I’d hoped they would be — the meat wasn’t at its tender best and the curry was almost sweet, which isn’t exactly a problem under normal circumstances, but a gentle bite would have been
helpful.
Good North Indian food doesn’t necessarily have to depend on excessive ghee or oil to make a hungry soul happy. What it needs is patience and devotion to the root of the cuisine. And given that the service is quite quick, would I be mistaken to assume that a lot of dishes are kept prepared ahead?
The Rocket Kulfi is supposedly one of the restaurant’s hit sellers but by then, I had run out of patience and inclination.
I don’t see Khaaja Chowk faring badly in the city, albeit the fact that it would have to face serious competition from some already-established North Indian restaura