‘We had taken a leap of faith when we opened Naar. We had no idea what to expect,’ said its chef-owner Prateek Sadhu. Naar comes from the Kashmiri word for fire. A word that is both literal and metaphoric, according to Prateek.
‘Given our remote location, we thought we would get only 3 to 4 customers daily. That’s why we limited ourselves to 16 seats, initially keeping our kitchen and staff strength bare minimum,’ said Akshay Tripathi, his business partner. Prateek was the much-celebrated founder chef of Masque and had made it one of India’s most celebrated restaurants. Akshay was heading F&B in the Taj Mahal Hotels group. The two were friends who had worked together earlier. They had talked about opening a restaurant showcasing Himalayan food for a long time; till they decided it was time to take the plunge. They moved out of their successful careers to follow their hearts.
“We built everything from scratch. We are far from the mainland, and transporting anything is an issue. We stayed in a small house in the village while the work was going on. It would not have been easy to sustain ourselves in such a barebones place. Then there was the challenge of attracting talent to such a remote place. We had everything against us, but we had a dream and wanted to fulfil it.”
“We could have failed. What could be the worst that could happen? We would have lost our money, no doubt, but at least we would have tried,” said Aashina Kaul (Prateek’s wife) with a big smile. She was juggling reservation enquiries on her phone while talking to us. The calls would not stop; they were overbooked, despite people having to pay a full advance while booking. “People have all sorts of questions. What sort of food do we serve? Is it possible to drive up? How long will it take to reach where they are based from here? Sometimes, it takes 4 or 5 calls before a customer says yes. That’s because the concept is new.”
Prateek, Aashina and Akshay
I looked at the mountains surrounding us. There were no signs of civilisation except the three buildings that make up Naar: the salon, restaurant (which included the kitchen), and dishwasher. There were trees and shrubs around us, and blue skies above.
“That’s an orange gooseberry,” exclaimed Prateek excitedly.
“First of the season,” Akshay observed.
“Look at the boy below. He’s collecting herbs which will be used to garnish today’s dishes,” said chef Kamlesh Negi (who has worked with Prateek earlier too) who had just joined us
“We harvest our vegetables—cauliflowers, strawberries, potatoes… and we try to grow as much of what we use as we can. Only step farming is possible,” said Prateek.
“We get locally grown rice. We must contact multiple farmers to get enough, as individual stocks are limited. Everyone wants to grow basmati,” said Negi.
Foraging
“What about your meat and fish?” I asked.
“We use trout, which is found locally. Pork too,” replied Prateek. “Hardly anything is imported from abroad.”
I saw some folks walking around the open space outside the restaurant.
“Diners are encouraged to walk around, take a break, enjoy the surroundings while they eat, as they have come quite a way to reach here. The central theme of Naar is the food of the Himalayas. The mountains are central to our existence. That’s why we have ensured that you face the mountains regardless of where you are,” explained Akshay.
I returned to Woodside, the villa complex where I was put up. Prateek and Akshay had moved out of the village to a villa in Woodside, which had made their lives easier.
I came back to Naar for dinner. The place looked completely different. Daytime was about the natural beauty and majesty of the hills and the freshness of the greens.
There was a certain tranquillity at night, which felt precious given how chaotic things were back home. ‘Can you see the stars?’ asked Prateek. ‘I have an app that helps you identify the stars, planets, and constellations.’
I was then taken to the salon, a single-story building with a ‘salon’ seating area, a bar, and a balcony outside. Here, you are also offered your first cocktails and courses. This was my first taste of Naar!
Askalu (pulled lamb, sesame lun, apple jam) // tart (trout, apple) // maki tujj (duck amla). These small bites left you with a distinct flavour hit, with the protein as the star.
We then moved to the dining room, which was in another building. Prateek said that kitchens occupy a big part of houses in the hills. They have replicated the same spirit here. An open kitchen occupies more than half the restaurant’s space, and customers are seated in the remaining area. I chose a table close to the dining area. I was alone. I did not feel bored. I spent the time observing the young chefs in action with chefs Prateek Sadhu and Kamlesh Negi leading them. There was a mesmerising sense of calm in the way they worked. There was a small open fire section that had me hypnotised. No one was shouting, venting, or crying, there was no melodrama. No wonder the food was so ephemeral.
Naar’s open kitchen
What did I think about the food?
Was this ‘Indian food’ as we know it? What was the ‘Himalayan’ element in it?
The food was a result of the chef’s imagination and technical. There was no benchmark to compare it with. Yet, it evoked familiarity. Ingredients and produce from the mountains were incorporated into forms imagined by the chefs. Local cooking techniques were used in some dishes, such as the hand-rolled buckwheat noodles in the sunderkala (a sort of noodle soup). I won’t go into describing each dish, but specific taste experiences stayed with me and were refreshed when I went through my photos. The chewy carrots, lamb brain on a corn bread inspired by a local bread called patande, the tantalising cultured butter served with horsegram flatbread, galho rice (pork belly bowl with tomato rice using a rare local rice) and the ragi pineapple dessert with its delightful pineapple flavour pop.
The service was excellent. The front-of-house staff and the chefs were well-trained and enthusiastic. Their passion was evident in their willingness to be sequestered in a remote area far from city life.
A natural question was whether the experience was worth it. Let’s look at the logistics first. I could make the trip as I had come to Chandigarh as a guest of Vernika Awal, Rajan and Deepika Sethi for the launch of Ikk Punjab. The drive from Chandigarh to Naar took about 2 hours each way. It is located beyond Kasauli. Folks from Delhi can drive down to Chandigarh too. I stayed overnight at the Woodside Villa complex. Most of their guests come to Naar either on their way somewhere or because they are nearby. I was hosted by the good folks at Naar, even though that was not the plan. They can get you discounted rates if you want to stay at Woodside. It is a lovely property, far removed from the madding crowd. Naar is located in a resort called Amaya. You could stay there too. It is a lot more expensive. In other words, it’s not the same as catching an Uber from home! It is India’s first destination dining experience, and kudos to Aashina, Prateek and Akshay for pulling it off.
Let’s come to the food; I must state my bias here. It is fascinating to see what Prateek and his contemporaries have achieved in terms of imagination and craft regarding the food they have produced. The other two meals I recently had in this space were at Varun Totlani’s Masque and Shahzad Hussain’s Papa’s. This is cutting-edge stuff, which I am sure matches the best of what’s happening worldwide.
To me, it’s like arthouse cinema. It’s about pushing the boundaries and creating something one can showcase. It’s about the chef’s desire to create something that reflects his food philosophy and skills. I don’t know if this is made keeping the diner in mind. It’s more about shock and awe and the chef’s self actualisation.
Converse to arthouse films are films that have been described as masala movies or potboilers, both cooking terms. They follow time-tested formulas, the sort of films that would go on to be box office hits. The food that speaks to my heart and not just my mind is on similar lines. It is simple, uncomplicated, and familiar, where meals are limited to two or three courses and take half an hour. Judge me if you want, but make no mistake, this can be a delicious and memorable fare resulting from great skill that will give you unbridled joy.
Having said that, big congrats, Prateek. What you have achieved is inspirational on many levels, experiencing this first-hand made my pilgrimage to Naar meaningful.
With the pioneers of Naar
