Walking into Bikanervala, we were in the mood for some serious street food. The chole bhature arrived first, and it didn’t disappoint—fluffy, golden bhature with spicy chole that hit all the right notes. The paneer paratha followed, well-stuffed and perfectly cooked, but the raita was a real letdown. It was as if someone had mixed yogurt with regret—bland and watery, doing absolutely nothing to complement the dish. Fortunately, the dal makhani that came with the paratha was a game-changer—rich, creamy, and full of flavor, making us rethink why we even bothered with the raita in the first place. The samosa chaat, with its crunch and spice, had potential but fell short, lacking that zing to take it to the next level. The raj kachori, though, was a bit of a disaster—soggy and tasteless, it seemed like a good idea on paper but didn’t quite work in practice.
Amidst this mix of hits and misses, the vada pav made a solid impression—spicy, flavorful, and exactly what you’d expect from a good vada pav. But then, just when we thought things were stabilizing, the lemon soda showed up—a drink so bad it felt like the universe was playing a cruel joke. One sip, and it was clear: this wasn’t a refreshing drink, this was a wake-up call. It tasted like someone had mixed soda with a lemon-flavored cleaning solution—sharp, fizzy, and confusing. To top it all off, the service, swamped with orders, managed to forget a few of ours, leaving us staring at the empty table, wondering if we had been forgotten too. In the end, Bikanervala was a bit of a mixed bag—some dishes were winners, others were, well, not so much. If you go, choose wisely, and if someone offers you the lemon soda—politely decline and maybe point them to the nearest exit.