We balance between construction rubble, wooden beams and bags of cement, drinking in the view. A week before Barracuda Brew launches, Chef Mohamed Siddiq and I are on the roof terrace, as he explains the team’s vision for the space.
Plans are necessarily fluid, in this city of challenging bar licences. Barracuda Brew was envisioned as the city’s first micro-brewery, and designed accordingly. Then, it pivoted to a restaurant, with an open-air rooftop bar.
However, for now, it is a bar with a strong focus on food, and a work-in-progress terrace. Fortunately, there’s nothing “work in progress” about the generously proportioned space: currently built around fanciful cocktails, pop music and thoughtfully styled global comfort food.
“The barracuda is the underdog of the ocean,” says brand consultant Naveen Howie, pausing between inspecting lights, supervising a photo shoot and discussing the night’s playlist with the DJ. “They hunt in schools. Are most unpredictable. And swim against the tide.” An apt metaphor, then, for this shape-shifting space and its determined team.
Resident Chef Elam Parithi, who comes from a family of fishermen, emerges from the kitchen to say hello and chat about how he went out on his father’s trawler last week to source barracuda for the bar. “My grandfather used a catamaran to fish. But you need to go deeper in for barracuda,” he states, adding that he first learnt to cook at a class held in Kovalam village after the tsunami hit in 2004.
He was mentored by Siddiq, then executive chef at Taj Fisherman’s Cove, after which he worked as a chef with a slew of hotels and a cruise liner before returning home to Chennai. The menu, created with consultant Chef Siddiq, is ambitious with multiple pages and genres, but also straightforward, focusing on familiar flavours.
I pick a party night — Saturday — to work my way through it, powered by gin, offered with a selection of Svami tonic water. Though the cocktail list is extensive, not everything is available, which means martinis are shaken with white wine instead of dry vermouth: an avatar that would make James Bond shudder.
There are, however, refreshingly bracing whisky and gin cocktails between the inevitable sludge of bright, syrupy drinks. Watch out for the slick flair bartending by mixologist Arjun Maravan at the 100-seater bar, reportedly the longest in the city.
Of course, since this is Chennai, we order sambar-idli, an affectionate take on the household staple, featuring cocktail idlis doused in clingy sambar concentrate, liberally dusted with crunchy podi and finished with ghee. It is as moreish as it is incongruous: Rayars Mess in Prada. Make sure you eat it hot. The nachos arrive lukewarm, a congealed mass of cheese and bacon.
Service is chipper, but haphazard. So our food arrives in bits and pieces, as a bevy of waiters circle, all bright smiles and absent-minded apologies. Most of what does turn up, however, is freshly made and satisfying, with robust flavours and clever plating. Worth the wait; especially if you are down one drink. Or four.
- Address: 24, College Road, Subba Road Avenue, Nungambakkam
- Hits: Chilli beef, rumali lasagne
- Misses: Kumbakonam coffee brulee, loaded nachos
- Call: 9884456786
We eat buttery pulled pork sandwiches, served with fat, chilli-dusted potato chips, and a crisp salad of crunchy rocket leaves, thin slices of radish and a skilful vinaigrette. The chilli beef is a crowd-pleaser, generously peppered with wickedly red chillies. Try their tender chimichurri prawns, or mussel moilee, served as a soup with tiny appams floating on top like determined catamarans.
“We want to do familiar food, with a strong accent on South Indian,” says Chef Siddiq, adding, “But we add a twist.” The sundal, for example, is served as a salad, with cheese and crumbled thattai. And the rumali lasagne features creamy galouti kebab between layers of rumali roti, with molten cheese on top. They also offer a spaghetti makhini for the brave.
“Please don’t call it fusion,” he adds, rolling his eyes. Fusion tends to get a bad rap, thanks to years of chefs trying to be trendy by jamming cuisines together. While there are some look-at-me dishes, most of Barracuda’s menu works because there is a clarity in the thought process: creating flavours and formats apt for the setting without making compromises solely for Instastory appeal. There are misses though: the ambitious Kumbakonam coffee mousse is too weak to be taken seriously, for instance. Especially here, in the filter coffee homeland.
As the bar evolves, expect to see more live performances, from jazz, rock and blues to stand up comedy. They also plan to work more closely with fishing villages, via chef Elam. In a bid to be more environment-friendly, there are bamboo straws, and the team will be collaborating with Wasted Solutions, for recycling and segregation.
In Kasimedu fish market, the barracuda — known as seela — is a staple, found in lunch boxes of fishermen and women. It’s cheap, plentiful and tasty. It’s also versatile: eaten dried, fried or in a gravy.
Given the fact that this space is still evolving, this is Barracuda Brew’s strength as well: a tenacity to stay versatile on shifting ground.
