On a Saturday night two weeks ago, I was drawn into the zig-zag streets flanking Grant Road. Off work after a long week, the promise of something novel had gotten me to the doors of a bar. Another bar, you say? I said too.
But soon, at the very first initiation, an atmosphere where time seemed to dissolve embraced me – a listening bar dedicated to the purity of vinyl sound and the art of craft cocktails.
There’s a ritual to entering a listening bar. The subtle hush of anticipation as you step inside, the soft glow of warm lights flickering off shelves of classic albums, and the gentle crackle that rises as the needle finds the groove. In an era of digital playlists and disposable earbuds, there’s something almost sacred about a space that dedicates itself to vinyl. And at BAROKE, the sanctuary comes alive, with a Side A and a Side B.
Those in the mood for some retro, jazz or a bit a of rock n roll headed to the elevated deck where wooden shelves brimming with records stood, inviting the guests to browse. They, then, handover their selection to the DJ who set the turntables gently to hum, and then, witnessed them taking over the rhythms of this chic set up. They were partaking in the intimate conversations, at the round tables and long bar table, happening at Side A.
For me, though, it was all Side B. Plush velvet booths and vintage posters on the walls presented an immersive space where all I did was take the headphones and wear them on. All the murmur of the bar receded to nothingness and what remained was the music.
From the DJ’s desk to my ears. Stairway to Heaven felt like one indeed, where I branched out to someone busking Go Your Own Way. I was, and I usually am. Under Purple Rain, the grip of nostalgia was tender and Time decided to slow down a bit.
But BAROKE didn’t just stop at auditory delights. The drinks menu was a rhapsody of its own—a creative explosion of flavors, colors, and aromas that elevated my mood. The water baby in me, instinctively, leaned towards ‘Reggae on the Beach’ and then, stumbled upon ‘Flower Child’.
Lemme tell you a little about the latter – vanilla white rum and a dash of rose, topped with blueberry cream cheese foam. Ummm… that’s me licking the flavors clean. A delicious note in itself. You might want to discover ‘Reggae on the Beach’ by yourself 🙂
The classics are honored, too, but mostly with a twist. Multiple visits are the only way to sample the inviting stash.
The little rumble in my tummy, however, quickly signalled for the food tray and I placed, in quick succession, two members of ‘Umami’ – Pan-fried Gnocchi and Parmesan Tapioca Fritters. While the former melted in mouth, splashing the cheesy din with the vibrant basil, the latter brought crunch, with a creamy supplement from aioli. Just right for my palate.
As the night deepened, the vibe shifted subtly. Lights went easy, the songs free. But the team remained ever so warm and attentive. From asking politely if they can disturb me to describe my drink to quietly adding a snippet or two behind the history of the coffee table books I was sampling at a corner, the team was at their best, at all times.
I am going here again, and perhaps, again. Because where most places in this megalopolis are racing with loud thumps, here is a place that underlines pauses, one vintage note and artistic sip at a time.
Meal for 2: INR 4000
SEEMITA DAS 