Café Swotha, established seven months ago by a consortium of six Nepali owners and managed until recently by Camille Hanesse, has emerged as a gastronomic crowd-pleaser on the outskirts of Patan Darbar Square.
Its intimate setting is attached to the restored Newari hotel, Traditional Homes Swotha, and its minimalist interior, open-fronted kitchen, and the unobtrusive sounds of Seu Jorge’s acoustic, Portuguese-language Bowie covers, all serve to provide an atmosphere of sophisticated, romantic warmth.
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A meal taken here a couple of weeks earlier was encouraging: the individually prepared lasagne with a rich tomato sauce and smooth, expertly prepared béchamel was a hit, especially when accompanied with a glass of the near-ubiquitous, Indian-made, Sula red – quaffed, of course, for the antioxidants. And so expectations were high as we sheltered from the rain one recent Sunday.
The restaurant’s lone waiter was ready, willing and able to accommodate our every need without resorting to the often overzealous attendance experienced in low season in myriad other eateries. Water was frequently replenished, service was speedy (perhaps because the restaurant was otherwise empty) and we were encouraged – but not pushed – to browse through works by British artist Paul Aitchison, who also consulted on the menu and presentation in Swotha’s early days in his other role as a Kathmandu-based chef extraordinaire. These illustrations, hanging in the restaurant’s waiting area, are also currently up for sale.
Swotha’s menu comprises of a condensed list of Italian favourites, well-loved salads, sandwiches and an eclectic list of appetisers. We started with an item from the specials board: chicken fingers served with a carrot edamame bean salad and a honey mustard dressing (Rs 320). The tartness of the salad offsets the sweet dressing well, and the chicken, prepared in two-bite size pieces, was moist and tender.
Our mains consisted of a potato gnocchi (Rs 480), which, though lacking in salt and slightly overdone, came with a sauce of sundried tomatoes which more than made up for these minor transgressions. Less impressive was the Pasta Swotha (Rs 420), a generous portion comprising of the same sauce as the gnocchi, with walnuts, olives and surprisingly – given its billing – was brought to us stirred into a messy nest of spaghetti.
This lack of attention to detail, it seems, could be Swotha’s undoing. Food was served on cold plates, limp, half-hearted and somewhat superfluous garnishes of coriander and parsley. The lack of correct cutlery for the spaghetti (cries of ‘chamcha dinus!’ seem somewhat undignified in such surroundings) also betrayed traces of amateurishness amid an otherwise enjoyable dinner.
Dessert diminished these errors, however, with a slice of cheesecake (Rs 330), ordered to share presented exquisitely and executed well, resplendent with a honey dressing, a subtle smack of lemon, and a thin biscuit based that I suspect was constructed from Oreo-esque cookie. For me, this was a standout component in a pleasing but imperfect dining experience.
As earlier alluded, Swotha is clearly capable of greatness and not so far from achieving it. As things stand, I’d highly recommend bringing your beau for lasagne and dessert, a glass of wine or two, and a chance to experience an oasis of romance in a season defined by its downpours.
How to get there: leave Darbar Square, walk past Café du Temple and take a right just after the tourist ticket booth.