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Archive for the ‘Valley Eats’ Category


Hungry eye – Marronnier, Chakupat

This one’s a real tuckaway, and perhaps one that deserves to remain so, if only for the continued patronage of those who’ve discovered it through dint of cultured curiosity. Hint: it’s above the Fuji Bakery and you’d be forgiven (though hungry) for retreating after opening the door to the sight of fine textiles on racks. […]

Hungry Eye – Casa de Cass, Pulchowk

A good martini, it seems, makes an impression. Even better if a curl of citrus is suspended in the clear waters, tantalisingly calling to you. To resist is merely to desist, and what could be the point of that in the smaller scheme of things? Casa de Cass is a fine spot for lunch, as […]

Hungry Eye – New Orleans, Jhamel

The following evening, plans for a Nepali New Year’s do obliterated by the mere thought of hundreds of loutish youths padding through the gallis of Thamel, as well as a reluctance to shell out a 1000 smackeroos to schmooze with the same people in the same places, I made very ordinary plans: dinner with a […]

Hungry Eye – ChopStix, Jawalakhel

Unseriously, I am considering going vegetarian for the most pathetic reason possible – in the wake of a flurry of luncheons and dinners across the culinary pleasuredome that is Patan, I feel a little…ill. It all started last year. The penultimate day of 2066, that is, when a colleague and I figured, finally, that we’d […]

Durbar Square Dining – Patan

The Durbar Squares of the Kathmandu Valley – Kathmandu, Patan and Bhaktapur – are so captivating one could forgive the tourists for sighing obliviously into the tepid nescafes, burnt fries, and gristly momos that are the staple of many a restaurant favourably positioned to scoop up easy business. They won’t even notice the overpriced fare, […]

Follow your nose to…Kirtipur

A lazy Saturday afternoon eased past in Bishalnagar and my hopes of hauling friends laden with wives and chiles upto a bhatti in hilltop Kirtipur in the southwest of the valley began to founder in glass after glass of lager. Chyaang! Chwoela! Chiura! I yelled, to little avail. Naah, mumbled one, look there, it’s pouring […]

Wunjala no Moskva

Wunjala Moskva, the ‘garden restaurant in the heart of the city’, had long been a mystery to me. A Newari-Russian eatery seemed a conceit too easily construed as ‘ey, some boris got hitched to a maiya and opened the kitchen to the paying public’. But the place had languished in relative obscurity far too long […]