SHANGRI-LA’S IS one of the older hotels in the Delhi hospitality landscape. Across the road from the once-glitzy Le Méridien, this hotel was, at some point, a government-run (down) hotel that was subsequently acquired by a local builder. What followed was a tie-up with the Hong Kong-based Shangri-La Group. This chain of hotels, the largest in China, brings a uniquely Asian flavour to its hospitality promise and, as a policy (not sure why), chooses multi-storey buildings for its hotels. So one will not find any diversity in height when perusing Shangri-La properties, as all are tall buildings. The other thing that most Shangri-Las tend to have is a Chinese restaurant as a hat tip to its provenance.
The Shangri-La in New Delhi had a beautiful first-floor Chinese restaurant that traversed Pan-Asian cuisine with a temperamental and emotional Japanese chef during the time I worked there for a brief period. The Chinese food was not the highlight at this restaurant. I would invite reviews and sneak in a burnt garlic chicken dish that was a staff kitchen favourite to spice up the experience. It was always a success and many big names in the food review business asked why it wasn’t on the menu. I think there was a compulsion to keep the food authentic Chinese and eschew the demands of the Delhi palate. Admittedly, it didn’t succeed. For all their cosmopolitanism, Delhi foodies can be stubborn about what appeals to their taste.
So it was refreshing to walk into the signature Chinese restaurant of the group, Shang Palace, at Shangri-La’s. I have dined at Shang Palace in Yangon and tasted its very authentic Chinese offerings that keep with the local Myanmar taste. Would this experience also submit to the local palate or stay stubbornly aloof? As it turned out, this restaurant served up a Delhi-style Chinese experience. I could get into the semantics and dissect flavour profiles, cooking methodology and so forth, but it would be repetitive. Here is what Shang Palace does get right: it has a fiesty dimsum offering—that takes a tad too long to be ready, but is worth the wait. The service style is simple—in the standard dimsum bamboo basket—and the accompaniments are a variety of sauces, from sweet to spicy.
The main courses were Indian-style Chinese comfort eating. The point here is that Shang Palace has, it would seem, ‘succumbed’ to local tastes unapologetically and it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Earlier last year, I chanced upon a restaurant called Circus, more nightclub-loungish, whose intent was to make ‘Chindian’, or Indian-style Chinese food—gobi manchurian et al—global. This assertiveness and a need to celebrate our palate as opposed to training it to a certain cuisine is a sort of gastronomic power. As homegrown Indian restaurants like Indian Accent debut in the West, they do so celebrating Indian cuisine.
But back to Shang Palace, the dessert was what topped it off for me—banana caramel ice cream with chocolate fondant cake. I’m going to stick my neck out here, but I think this dessert beats the Bulls Eye of Taj Mahal Hotel hollow and it comes in a more petit portion size. Is it Chinese? Not really. Neither is this al fresco—south of France-style seating—but it works. For a more traditional and dragon-red dining experience, the interiors of Shang Palace will seem familiar enough. As for the clientele? Is it all pampered chill chicken-craving Delhi diners? Not really. The time I dined there we had a large Chinese contingent for company and they seemed just as pleased as us to be there.
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Advaita Kala is a writer, most recently of the film Kahaani. She is also a former hotelier having worked in restaurants in India and abroad
