At first sight, the mustard ladder seemed to be a bridge between the two floors. Five seconds later, the truth was established— there was no top floor, only one floor. At second glance, it was confirmed that perhaps only toddlers maybe eligible to use it as balcony seating. At yet another glance, it looked like a bunk bed, and the waiter who had climbed up looked quite tempted to take a nap. Far away from the hustle downstairs.
Right behind this was the big brick dome, after which the place was named – Brik Oven. That missing ‘c’ in the name can definitely take you places, under the guidance of our very own GPS Aunty.
A brief confusion about the unavailability of seats made me wish it had had a top floor as well. Soon enough, after much impatient murmurs, we did get a seat. As the waiter cleared the table, a sad blob of molten ice cream swayed in a bowl.
Who wastes ice cream? That is outrageous!
The menu interestingly looked like books for three year olds; the ones that says ‘Fruits’ or ‘Animals’. In spite of this, the menu card was a little hard to digest – thanks to the wonderful illustrations that did not want to share the attention with the text below it.
We finally ordered a Garlic Bread with Cheese, and a Grilled Cheese Pizza. Of course, you cannot get to pizza without Garlic Bread — it is like that mutual friend who introduces you to the love of your life (Pizza).
It was not enough to call it a rush hour, perhaps a late lunch hour, but nevertheless there was much traffic inside as well. The mustard ladder entered the frame again, and I noticed it led to a loft. Also noticed that they could climb up on it without the ladder as well. S wanted to take a selfie, but A refused to be a selfie stick. At this point, I suggested perhaps the dangling men in the kitchen might be of some help.
Our food arrived, and after the mandatory investment of time for food-o-graphy, we sliced it apart. The crisp crust was barely an effective spine for the soft base, which stooped down to the weight of the toppings. But it led to a wrong first impression – that of the triangle being easy to bite off; in spite of sharp teeth. Add to this sudden squeals of laughter that burst from my right — I paused my mid-air battle with my pizza slice.
In spite of the brick oven being way behind his sight, A sensed its presence in the pizza. S followed. I concentrated on the bald oven, but nothing really happened — except for the juicy slice bounded by the crust. Hence continued. In fact, the cheese was so chewy that A forgot what he was about to say by the time he had swallowed it. We ordered shakes – High on Caramel, Oreo-licious, and Nutty But Nice. This was after I decided I couldn’t eat a whole waffle, and S — being the food blogger — declared she had had too many waffles.
The caramel shake arrived first, and it tasted very much like snickers trapped in a blender. With lots of milk and caramel. Apart from a lonely half of the Oreo, and the chocolate wafer, the other two shakes were identical. The initial enthusiasm faded, and I remembered my mother. She used to, when I was a kid, mix chocolatey stuff in milk just to make me drink.
Amidst the big oven, and tasty food, there was much confusion. At various points, we kept bothering the staff. Sometimes it was ketchup, sometimes chilli flakes. And sometimes the 10% service charge that fell out of that loft.
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