There are some evenings that feel as if life folds back on itself — the past and present sharing the same table. Our thirty-third wedding anniversary was one such evening, celebrated at Indian Accent, The Lodhi.

The restaurant’s reputation precedes it — an elegant setting, understated luxury, and a menu that speaks of India in a new language. But for us, there was something even more personal: The Lodhi stands in Lodhi Colony, where I grew up, went to school, and even got married to Sanju.

Coming back here was like opening an old album. Every corner evoked a memory — childhood laughter, the school years, and the countless beginnings that had shaped the thirty-three years we were celebrating that night.

A Setting of Subtle Grace

Indian Accent, under the creative vision originally defined by Chef Manish Mehrotra and now helmed by Chef Shantanu Mehrotra, has mastered the art of re-imagining Indian food. It’s not just about fusion; it’s about narrative — each course a conversation between nostalgia and invention.

The space was warmly lit, intimate yet unpretentious. The staff, gracious and finely attuned, guided us through the eight-course tasting menu, each dish designed as a bite-sized story. It felt fitting — after all, our thirty-three years together have been built of such small, vivid moments, each layered with flavor and memory.

The Journey Begins

The delicate mini crisp with a blue cheese filling, paired with a tiny sip of warm spiced broth of greens. It set the tone — comfort with curiosity.

Then came the chaat reinterpretations, a symphony of textures and tastes. Tiny, artful plates brought back the chaos and charm of India’s street foods — but with polish and precision. There was an Aloo Tikki bite with tamarind pearls, a crunchy Khakra tart of chickpeas and chutney, and a tangy kothimbir sphere bursting with coriander flavor. These were familiar flavors seen through a new prism — elegant, clever, and deeply nostalgic.

A Taste of Tradition, Retold

The next few courses deepened that sense of culinary storytelling. A Lamb Shikampuri kebab, rich and melting, was paired with a creamy cheese surprise that balanced spice with silkiness. Then came pork ribs glazed with sweet pickle, a stunning play of tender meat, caramelized edges, and that sharp-sweet Indian tang that cuts through richness. It was one of the most memorable dishes of the night — bold yet beautifully restrained.

For Sanju, who preferred poultry, the kitchen created a delicate chicken version — lightly spiced, perfectly cooked, and equally balanced. It was a thoughtful gesture that spoke volumes about the restaurant’s quiet hospitality.

Between these flavors came a palate cleanser, a tiny sorbet infused with kala khatta — the taste of summer childhoods, of school breaks and syrupy tongues. I smiled at the thought: who could have imagined those roadside memories finding their way into fine dining? Served in a toy pressure cooker container.

The Heart of the Meal

As the evening unfolded, the courses continued like musical movements — each different, yet harmoniously connected. The fish course was a revelation: rawa-crusted sea bass resting in a light, frothy sol-kadhi sauce. The tang of kokum and the creaminess of coconut made for a coastal memory reborn.

Then came the signature black dal, slow-cooked, smoky, and comfortingly rich, served with miniature butter-chicken-stuffed kulchas that could melt away any restraint. I ws offered a plled duck version. Alongside it, a smoked bhujia raita added a hint of earthiness. It felt like coming home — familiar, soulful, and beautifully grounded after the earlier flights of innovation.

The courses were portioned just right — enough to savour, never to overwhelm. Each left a whisper of flavor, a prompt for conversation. And our conversation flowed easily: memories of early days, to our travels and journeys.

Dessert: Where Magic Took Over

The first dessert, Khubani ka Meetha, was presented like a jewel. A layer of apricot gel shimmered over a light cheesecake, crowned with a drizzle of mulberry sauce. The tart fruit and creamy base were in perfect harmony — an ode to classic Hyderabadi sweetness interpreted with contemporary finesse.

We thought that was it — a perfect ending. But the chef had one more surprise.

Out came Chef Shantanu Mehrotra himself, smiling, with what he called our “anniversary gift from the kitchen”: Daulat ki Chaat, Indian Accent’s modern homage to Delhi’s winter delicacy.

It arrived dramatically — a dollop of milky froth, impossibly light, dusted with pistachio and caramelized sugar, served inside a wrap of faux ₹500 notes. From beneath the bowl rose a mist of liquid nitrogen, swirling and clouding the table in a dreamlike haze. For a moment, it felt like time itself had paused — the perfect theatrical flourish to a meal that had been both nostalgic and magical.

For someone who grew up chasing Daulat ki Chaat from carts around Old Delhi, it was a deeply personal finale.

A Feast of Memory and Craft

What stood out most through the evening was the balance — not just of flavors, but of emotion. The food never shouted; it spoke softly, allowing memories to flow alongside it. Every dish had intention — nothing felt overdone or ornamental.

At one point, Sanju smiled and said, “It’s amazing how these tiny portions can tell such big stories.” She was right. The taster menu wasn’t just about food; it was about India retold — the local turned global, the simple made sublime.

The Lodhi Connection

Celebrating here, in Lodhi Colony, carried its own emotional gravity. I remembered cycling through those lanes as a boy — the dusty track that once led to the Lodhi Hotel, surrounded by scrubland and wilderness. It was our “shortcut” through what we proudly called the jungle.

Today, that same path is lined with cafes, apartments, and the quiet hum of a city that has grown up just as we have. The jungle is gone, replaced by steel and glass, but in some ways, it’s the same — vibrant, alive, full of stories.

And in that sense, this dinner was also a return — to roots, to beginnings, to the landscape of our own story.

When Food Becomes Memory

Good food can impress you; great food can move you. But only rare meals stay with you — not for their complexity, but for their connection. This evening at Indian Accent was one of those rare ones.

It wasn’t only the artistry of the plates or the finesse of the flavors, but the way they wove together the threads of our lives. The tang of pickle on pork ribs, the creamy kulcha with dal, the apricot and mulberry sweetness, and finally the milky froth of Daulat ki Chaat — each seemed to touch a chord of recollection.

It felt almost poetic that we’d chosen a restaurant where innovation meets memory, in a place where our own history began.

An Ending That Feels Like a Beginning

As we thanked the team and stepped out, I felt a quiet satisfaction — the kind that doesn’t come from indulgence but from resonance.

Thirty-three years of marriage is no small milestone. It has been made of joys and stumbles, everyday rituals and spontaneous adventures. And this dinner — in its own elegant, unhurried way — captured that journey: familiar yet surprising, refined yet heartfelt.

So here’s to thirty-three years, to Indian Accent, and to the continuing adventure of tasting life together, one thoughtful course at a time.