Peter Cat and the dying cult of High Street dining

Kolkata: Just recently, Taste Atlas, the Croatian online travel guide ranked Calcutta's Peter Cat as No.17 in the 'Top 150 Most Legendary Restaurants' list. At No.11, leading the Indian contingent, was Paragon in Kozhikode and other home favorites include Tunday Kebabi in Lucknow, Karim's in Delhi and Ram Ashraya in Mumbai. Most inarguably, these are foodie choices and not critical stereotypes, so the thinking is delicious.

My focus of the day is however Peter Cat and the larger domain of its existence, Park Street. Home to exemplary dining for close to a century, as proven by gorgeous experiences and gregarious anecdotes. From a socio cultural lens, this stretch wonderfully bridged British India and Free India, in terms of good taste and a scalable continuity of tradition. The stories are many and I will simply share a few.

Magnolia, anecdotally home to the city's first jukebox and renowned for its soda delights. Trinca's, incubator of Biddu, Usha Uthup, Pam Crain, Don Saigal and several accomplished dishes as well. Flury's, of course, Swiss confectionary that arrested the saccharine sensibilities of the populace. Blue Fox, with its eclectic dance floor, chic service and Parisian graces.

Mocambo, circa 1956, the Devilled Crab sufficient to evoke paens amongst the chronic cynical. Never to forget Sky Room, the torchbearer of the Firpo’s tradition, whose dessert tray would make a diabetic lose his dietary virginity. As proud patriarch of Punjabi fare, Kwality and the Chana Batura schemingly designed to convert ardent carnivores.

Olypub was the petrol pump of the bright and the creative, with cocktail sausages and Chateaubriand steaks doubly sinful. There were many other candidates, including Peiping, a scholastic Chinaman with an additional degree in local tastes. Succeeded ably by Barbeque, the Rahul Dravid of Calcutta Chinese, consistent and how. Park Hotel, pioneering the disco culture with Someplace Else still breathing, aided by the felonious Bollywood ventilation.

Peter Cat, the proud winner, is actually an uncanny bridge between the Park Street of then and now, the glories sharply threatened. A deeply charming restaurant, its signature offering, Chello Kebab, was wealthy in pioneering marinades but strictly does not have any secret sauce. Thus, easily replicated and indeed bettered by motivated foes, in the area and elsewhere. Which is indeed, the malaise of Park Street as an idea whose time has sadly elapsed.

To begin with the boring but significant dimension of physical and emotional infrastructure. Parking is well nigh impossible on busy weekends, the footpaths seem deliberately disabled and a distressing stream of chirpy beggars and obstinate solicitors make the walk rather unpleasant. For a generation amply used to world class malls, this regressive High Street, however GOAT quality, is not kosher. Especially, since, the best of the city's food is now available in multiple 'elsewhere' locations, in the new town and old.

Adding to the agony is the predatory attitude of many existing heroes, out to milk the equity without stretching the creative or heritage libido. Flury's is now a shoddy photocopy in real fare, while gobsmacked non residents still queue up for the imaginary halo. Kusum, the roll shop, causes untold happiness to cardio professionals, with its obsession for devilish lubricants. Oasis, Moulin Rouge look and cook like caricatures of their past while the outburst of Starbucks and Wow Momo do little to make the street still precious. Most notably, the new age restaurants aiming to cash in have failed miserably,  perhaps it is a curse of the Armenian legends.

Quite like Connaught Place in Delhi, the MG-Brigade duopoly of Bangalore and Colaba coliseum of Mumbai, Park Street is succumbing to the High Street malaise. Limited confines leading to difficulties for customers, low life mafiosi queering the atmosphere and a powerful new consumer, aided by Swiggy-Zomato, dictating the time and place of digestion. On this, we shall dwell a bit farther.

The High Street concept, in retail or dining, was dictated by Mohenjodaro socio demographic values. That people will live and work all over the urban landscapes but converge in central locations for their amusement and indulgences. In 2023, the tables are terminally turned as abundant pockets, of investor and spender, ensure that experiences follow the customer and not the other way round. Domino's Pizza is a  lovely case study on this development as is the flurry of renowned dining spreading wings closest to the diner's post office.

High Streets in India have simply not responded to emerging buyer behaviour, possibly because they are still municipality subjects, not privy to market sensitivities. Make no mistake, the restaurants are full today but the cracks are showing, inspite of what the Croatian site opines for the Park Street luminary. The management, in most cases, behaving like the Indian Airlines of yore, reveling in historical advantage without being sensitive to gaping errors.

One day soon, I will trudge to Peter Cat and demolish a portion of the Chelo Kebab. Purely as a sentiment of an era abruptly terminated by the structured onset of relentless abundance. Calcutta still is the food capital of the universe, make no mistake, but way beyond Park Street. The Croatians are right but possibly late by a few decades.