The Ivy

I have been keeping this to myself so as not to worry my friends, loved ones or paparazzi, but I have been suffering from an advanced, if not semi lethal case of BDS (Bubble Deficiency Syndrome). Just as I was entering the final stretch, about to pull out a pizza pan and pray to Our Lady of the Pepperoni, Danielle came to my rescue and invited me to join her and a group of friends at Ivy in New Friends Colony to see a Dutch jazz and blues band. The last invitation from Danielle had us at a Rajasthani and Flamenco dance performance, followed by a fabulous dinner at Ploof in Lodhi Colony with the fabulous and impossible to duplicate Angelie. The whole evening was amazing and so I decided to accept Danielle’s invitation before she even got it out of her mouth… She got out only the “I was wondering if” and I shouted out “Yes, absolutely, I am on my way darling. Kiss, Kiss.” I was, of course a few days too early, but one must be prepared.

The Ivy is almost entirely white, with the only color coming from the plasma screen at the end of the 200 foot bar, which also makes it the longest bar in India and the 9 red glass chandeliers hanging from the black ceiling. We eschewed the more intimate and private upstairs dining area which overlooks the main room in favor of a table for 10 right in the middle of it all. I mean, what’s the point if you’re not seen? No sooner had we settled into our seats than Angelie and I looked at each other and without saying a word, agreed on the champagne cocktails. A woman after my very heart. The way to a normal man’s heart may be through his stomach, but mine is most definitely via a crystal flute.

We were soon scanning the menu and Danielle and I gasped in unison. There was pate. I had no idea that grew pates here in India and was very happy to see them on the menu. We ordered them immediately and when they arrived, they were fantastic. Not quite the foie gras I had been craving, but definitely good enough to hold me over until I am back in Europe. For the main course, it was mostly sea bass all around and it was one of the best seafood dishes I have had. It just melted like butter as any respectable fish should.

But the excitement does not stop there, oh no… We were there not only to be seen, but also to take in a little jazz band from the Netherlands. Their music was not at all Dutch sounding and then I heard from Chris, the queen bee of Delhi social life that they had driven from Amsterdam to Delhi and that in 3 months time, they have to perform in Turkey and so were leaving today to drive to Turkey. What an adventure that would be. The music was quite good when they backed it with some lounge beats and if you squinted in just the right way, you could imagine being at La Suite in Paris. It wasn’t long before I was dragged to the dancefloor where I put on my best Justin Timberlake moves to the oohs and aahs of my fellow party peeps.

This morning my phone was buzzing away as friends – ok, one friend, but still it is all so exciting - were calling to tell me they had read about the party in the morning’s paper. My excitement of being at the event of the evening was soon smashed to the rocks as not only was there no mention of my name, but not even a photo with me with a caption that read something along the lines of “mystery man seen canoodling with glittery glamour girls” or anything like that… I need to write a letter to the editor.