Jimbu Thakali

Jimbu Thakali’s NCR outlet happens to be their first India foray after several restaurants in Nepal. Founder Vivek Man Sherchan was aware of the fact that they’d now be representing an entire country. This perhaps heightens in a setting like Gurugram’s M3M 65th Avenue, where residents and their families look new openings up and down like a hawk circling mice, and where the international Asian dining is by and large Chinese or Korean. 

I’ve walked into an earthen, terracotta setting that’s softened still by subtle green undertones and engravings from different regions of Nepal (even on the bathroom sinks). There are paintings of Gods, there are photographs of the country that I will later learn were taken by a refugee from Germany who stayed in Vivek’s grandparents’ house for three years. 

To be clear – it is the playing card, in Delhi, to aggressively theme a restaurant’s setting around a country especially if the cuisine is focused on that country. Make no mistake. At Jimbu Thakali, it’s not a show of gear. The staff here will point you to each area that each item is from. Vivek can go on for hours, I’m confident, about the stories behind the photographs. Lentils and vegetables are imported directly from Nepal. 

As lovely as the food at Jimbu Thakali is… please hold. I’m compelled to first appreciate the easy chemistry the staff have with each other. It translates to confidence in a way that PR briefs, I’m afraid, simply cannot replicate. A not insignificant chunk of my evening, in fact, was spent speaking to one of them about their hometown, and noticing them laugh, pat each others’ backs, and look out for each other, gently. I’m not saying this is necessary for a restaurant to be enjoyable. But I don’t think I quite realised how much of a difference it makes to your experience until then.

One of the staff members tells me of his ancestral roots in Nepal. ‘We speak in Nepali here,’ he smiles, and we speak about the influx of migrants and Gorkhas to northeast and east India – he’s from West Bengal – who’ve since made their way home all over the country. 

In other parts of NCR, Delhi’s been having something of a Nepali food moment. Limbu Kitchen in CR Park was arguably the latest to pop it up, and spots in MKT and Humayunpur, of course, rack up bill after bill. Frankly, though I’m guilty of it myself, I’m exhausted of the ‘Delhi is a city of migrants’ disclaimer. I’m also not particularly interested in commenting on authenticity as far as a literal Nepal-born restaurant goes. With that, here’s what I really enjoyed about dining at Jimbu Thakali.

The food

The farq thakali soup is amusingly reminiscent of how most bases of jhol momos in Delhi taste, minimal on the sourness. You can spice them to your own taste. Jhol momos were possibly some of India’s first introduction to Nepali cuisine, even if it’s unfortunately been sledged into an oriental ‘Asian’ tag. Here, those are tart where needed and ample, minus the over-juiciness that Delhi’s street momos are known for (when they’re not horribly dry, that is). They carry a bright citrus edge against a nutty undercurrent. 

The mustang aloo uses potatoes brought directly from the high-altitude Mustang region. It’s tossed in salt and herbs from the region before melting into a plain, comforting gush on the tongue. Not everything lands with the same ease, though: the cold Mushroom Choila, spiced with Newari spices, perhaps proved more challenging: its sharp zang clashing a bit too harshly against its chilled temperature for my liking.

Buckwheat shows up throughout the menu. It’s a crop that withstands much drought and is one of the staple broadleaf plants that act as cereal substitutes in Nepal. The entirety of the staff around me sounds excited about it, especially when introducing their signature buckwheat fries and nachos. But I find myself thinking I’d rather not have my first impression based on a fried dish. I end up indulging it instead in their Dhido Set mutton thali, which replaces rice with buckwheat. While this may be unsurprising to say – the thalis truly are the crown of the affair. 

They bring together your choice of carbs, black lentil dal, dahi, seasonal sang, jimbu-spiced aloo, papad, fried bitter gourd, radish pickle, ghundruk sandeko, tomato chutney, salad, and curry of chicken, mutton, fish, paneer or pharsi. They’re outstandingly balanced in portions, avoid sensory nightmares, and the buckwheat mash is perfect with all of them. You know how it’s the cool thing to say that you’re ‘transported’ to a foreign country when you try a foreign country’s dish? From the bottom of my heart, screw that. I felt nourished and at home. Again, you’re able to spice anything on your plate up if you wish.

To drink, I choose the Mango Mule. It carries an unusual, full-bodied texture that hovers between a juice and a milkshake, drinking almost like a sweetened savory bread mixed up, complete with a nostalgic cherry, pineapple slice, and paper umbrella. Perhaps strangest of all: it actually quenches your thirst. By the way – Vivek tells me they’re in the process of rolling out a bar programme with ingredients from Nepal, and after stealing a look at the bar counter and the menu, I must say I’ll be very surprised if it’s not successful.

My next pick is what the menu has adorably called Nepali pizza. I think back to my childhood, when my father introduced uttapam to me as ‘Indian pizza’. I pick the chataamari, with egg and chicken, made with rice flour batter – it’s more a savory pancake that I can imagine I’d down to prevent a hangover for the time I eventually visit the bar.

For dessert, the staff have finally managed to sweet-talk me into picking their recommendation, the chimichangas cheesecake. The fried, gooey pastry threatens to overtake my palate but the scoop of vanilla ice cream – and don’t ask me to explain this – cuts through that sweetness in exactly the perfect way. In fact, as soon as that thought’s formed in my head, Shreeyanshi from the staff pops in and speaks my mind exactly.

There is a lot on the menu I wish I could’ve tried – like the several mutton special Sukuti dishes and in particular more Newari-spiced dishes. I’m not as compelled as dishes like fish and chips and churros, but I suppose I can’t be blamed. Either way, I’ll be back. And I’m 100% chatting up the staff again… maybe about why the churros.

Time Out tip: If you can, do actually ask about the stories behind those photographs. They’re… a ride I rather refuse to write about.