Then, several months back, I discovered that Sushiya receives fresh food from its central kitchen thrice during the course of the day: at 1 PM, 4 PM, and 7 PM. If we picked up sushi just after one of these times, we’d get fresh stuff, I thought—so this time, we did.

Sushiya plugs itself as a sushi takeaway, and they do have a fairly large selection of sushi (including vegetarian options, this being north India, after all). You can order à la carte (4 pieces per portion) from their sushi menu, which includes tempting stuff like shrimp tempura and asparagus, prawn and chive maki, wasabi pepper chicken roll, etc.

Or, if you want a wider selection, you can opt for the sushi boxes available. These come in the form of 10-piece boxes (mostly between Rs 400-450 per box) and 20-piece boxes (between Rs 800-950; vegetarian 20-piece boxes are Rs 600 per box).

In addition, Sushiya offers soups, salads, mains (including teriyaki, katsu don, tempura don, oyako don, Japanese curry, miso glazed salmon fillets, and sides like plain rice, egg fried rice, grilled eggplant in sweet miso, crispy fried chicken, and edamame. They have a tiny selection of sashimi, and you can buy your own sushi ingredients—rice, nori, gari (pickled ginger), wasabi powder, and soya sauce with dashi.

Since sushi seems to be Sushiya’s biggest attraction, my husband and I decided we’d try that. We ordered four boxes: a spicy prawn tempura, a spicy salmon sushi, a ‘super mix’ box, and a ‘fusion box’.

What did impress us was the skill and neatness with which everything was packed. All the boxes had clear plastic lids, and even though we had a somewhat bumpy ride home, none of the rolls had disintegrated by the time we got home: everything was intact and pretty. We’d also been given four sets of wooden chopsticks, each packed in Sushiya’s own sealed paper envelopes. As condiments, there was plenty of wasabi paste; soya sauce mixed with dashi; and gari. Each had been packed in tiny individual plastic jars (the soya sauce-dashi mix came in convenient little squeeze bottles).

Back home, we mixed our own dipping sauces: a good dollop of wasabi, diluted in the soya sauce and dashi mix. And then we got down to eating. Both my husband and I have had sushi before, though neither of us is anywhere close to being a sushi aficionado. We wouldn’t therefore be able to comment on really how good (or not!) Sushiya’s sushi was, but our general opinion was that it looked and tasted fine, but wasn’t exceptional. All the elements were present and correct: well cooked rice, thin nori sheets, paper-thin slices of fish (which didn’t taste fishy at all—my husband had been dreading that), tiny cubes of cucumber or avocado tucked away inside the Philadelphia rolls and California rolls (these were part of the ‘fusion box’), and the nutty crunch of toasted sesame seeds on the spicy salmon sushi and spicy prawn tempura sushi.

The problem was that, except for the very minor differences in flavour—the smoked salmon in the ‘super mix’ box, the aforementioned sesame seeds, the cucumber—or the even more elusive variations in texture—we’d not really have known what sushi we were consuming. Just about everything tasted pretty similar.

On the whole, we liked what we got from Sushiya; it tasted good, everything had been packed well (and it had been served up quickly—in less than ten minutes), and the condiments were both good and generous. True, it is expensive (Rs 1,248 for what we ordered), considering this isn’t a place to dine in—but I’m guessing a lot of that has to do with the expensive imported ingredients they use. I’d probably bring food from Sushiya again, but the next time, I might just try one of their mains. Or an assortment of sushi, chosen from the menu. I wouldn’t pick a sushi box again; they seemed boringly homogenous in their contents, even though the contents were varied.

The two of us have tasted Kolkata-style biryani before, during the Durga Puja celebrations in Delhi’s main Bengali enclave, Chittranjan Park. That was at a makeshift stall set up only for the duration of the Durga Puja festivities. We had never had biryani so good (and even since then, we’ve never tasted anything as wonderful). We hoped to rediscover that utterly awesome biryani at Kolkata Biryani House.

We weren’t too surprised to find that Kolkata Biryani is really rather makeshift, with no pretensions at all to anything except convenience. The counter at which you place your order is a tall, portable wooden desk (rather like a lectern with drawers), on the outside of which is pasted a large-poster size copy of the menu. In front, across the pavement, is a single small round table, high enough for perhaps three people (four, at a squeeze) to stand and eat.

Even though this place calls itself ‘Kolkata Biryani House’, biryani is only one of the many items on the menu. There are curries (some typically North Indian ones like roganjosh, korma, kadhai paneer etc as well as Bengali ones like mutton rezala and chicken khosha); vegetarian and non-vegetarian kababs and tikkas, tandoori chicken, ‘chop’ (a Bengali specialty, this: finely minced and spiced cooked chicken is rolled into a croquette, breaded and deep-fried: simply delicious!), rice, and a range of rotis, parathas and rolls (the non-vegetarian rolls section takes up most of the menu).

We were mostly interested in the biryani, of which Kolkata Biryani House offers six variations: chicken biryani, mutton biryani, egg biryani, vegetable biryani, and ‘special’ versions of the chicken and mutton biryanis. Both my husband and I are firm believers in the theory that the only biryani worth having is a mutton one, so that’s what we ordered. And because it wouldn’t be enough for two people, we also ordered two rolls: an egg-mutton roll, and an egg-chicken roll. We placed the order, paid up (Rs 290), and then waited around for our food to be prepared and packed.

The food is obviously not cooked here; the two men in the little room behind the counter seemed to be only involved in doling out food from large utensils. The biryani was dispensed from here, packed in an insulated paper-lined foil bag, which was then sealed. It was bunged into a plastic bag, along with a small clear plastic bag full of sliced onions, one of the most popular accompaniments to biryani.

We’d been wondering (since there didn’t seem to be even a gas range here) where the rolls would come from—since rolls are always freshly cooked. We then noticed that the order for the rolls had been given to the chef at the next shop (No. 50), and he had them cooked and ready by the time our biryani had been packed. Perhaps both food stalls have a common owner.

Anyway: our opinion of the food. The biryani contained two fairly large (though somewhat bony) pieces of mutton, one whole hard-boiled egg, and half a large potato, along with about two quarter-plates full of fragrant spiced rice. The meat was well-cooked and tender, and the flavour of the biryani would’ve been bang on if only there hadn’t been quite so much kewra (pandanus or screwpine) in it. Kewra has a very definite, strong and sweetish fragrance that can be lovely in small quantities (even in savoury foods), but cloying if excessive. The kewra in the biryani was certainly the one thing they could’ve changed—slightly less, and the biryani would have been very good indeed. As it was, it wasn’t bad, but not the best.

The rolls were exceptionally oily on the outside. They’d been wrapped in absorbent paper and then in aluminium foil to keep them fresh and hot. When I unwrapped the rolls, the paper was completely soaked in oil. This is mostly because the outer covering of the roll consists of a ‘lachcha paratha’, made flaky and crisp by generous inclusions of oil in the dough, and by equally generous quantities of oil being used while griddle-frying the paratha. After one side is fried, an egg is broken on it, and scrambled slightly to create a deliciously coating. Onto this is piled the stuffing: spiced chopped meat, lots of sautéed onions, and chopped green chillies. The egg-mutton roll had strips of green bell pepper added to the stuffing as well.

In both rolls, I found the stuffing to consist more of onions than meat, so if you’re looking for a very meaty roll, this is probably not what you should order. Also, the meats (especially the mutton) were pretty spicy; I’d have been much happier with a milder dish.

Kolkata Biryani House delivers free within a range of 3 kilometres; they’ll also deliver up to 6 kilometres away, provided you place a minimum order of Rs 500.We live outside of that circle, so we had to pick up our food. Be warned: they are totally barebones, so don’t expect paper napkins, let alone plastic cutlery or paper plates.

Very occasionally, if we’re shopping at Select CityWalk in the evening and want to take something home for dinner, we buy something from Amici Pronto. We hadn’t done that for a long time when, in December, we opted for takeaway after watching a long movie at the cinema in the mall. Post-cinema show times are always busy at Amici Pronto: it seems lots of visitors have the same idea as us. We did have to do some quick deciding and ordering (especially as Amici tends to restrict themselves to only what is on display—what you see is what they’ve got).

The menu is manageable, neither too vast nor too small, and consists of a range of savoury and sweet items. All of them are designed to be eaten even standing up: pizza slices, muffins (savoury and sweet), focaccia, quiches, tarts, wedges of cake, etc. They also do potato chips (with a variety of interesting dips), smoothies, frozen yoghurts, and fresh pasta.

One of my favourites—the onion and black olive focaccia—was unfortunately already out of stock, so we had to quickly choose from the rest of the items on display. The zucchini and onion muffin looked appealing, so we ordered two of those—only to be told that the one muffin in the display case was the only one left. My husband therefore ordered a scarmoza and onion quiche for himself. We also ordered two U-shaped pizzas: a roasted garlic chicken one, and a salsiccia one. From the cakes, pastries and other sweets on display, we picked a caramelised cheesecake with a mascarpone filling, and a pineapple financier.

My husband placed the order, paid up (Rs 664 for the lot, inclusive of taxes and a service charge), and took the packed order, all within five minutes. (It would probably have taken a little longer if we’d wanted to stand there and eat: Amici Pronto do offer to heat the food for you. Remember, though, that there’s no seating here, and not even any tall tables on which you can rest your food. If you decide to eat here, you’ll either have to step out into the mall’s main courtyard, where there are stone benches, or you’ll have to eat standing up).

Everything was packed in neat paper boxes, with a generous supply of paper napkins on the side, and a plastic spoon each for the two desserts. My husband asked if they’d provide any seasoning to be sprinkled on the pizzas, and received (instead of the sachets he’d expected) a pretty makeshift solution: a small paper cup filled with red chilli flakes, covered with a paper napkin and secured with a rubber band!

Back home, we heated up the food in the microwave and got down to the business of eating. Here’s what we thought:

1. Roasted garlic chicken pizza: So-so. The chicken was a bit dry, and there was nothing really garlicky about the pizza. Even otherwise, the pizza didn’t have much flavour.
2. Salsiccia pizza: A little better. It had a decent amount of flavoursome, salty salsiccia, and the cheese was generous too.
3. Scarmoza and onion quiche: I didn’t taste this one, but my husband had it, and said it was good, with a lovely sweetness from the caramelised onions it contained.
4. Zucchini and onion muffin: The flavours were great, here. The muffin batter (with dominant flavours of sautéed onions and cracked black pepper) had been poured into the muffin mould, then zucchini ribbons had been placed on top. The entire thing had been topped off with more batter, and then baked. Delicious. The only problem was that the zucchini had exuded moisture, which had made the surrounding dough claggy and not very nice.
5. Caramelised cheesecake with mascarpone: Fantastic! This is an individual, tartlet-sized cheesecake, its shell an indulgent caramel flavour, not too sweet—and the inside of rich, luscious mascarpone. My favourite part of the meal.
6. Pineapple financier: Rather like a little pineapple upside-down cake, though of course with the almond meal that’s a staple ingredient of a financier. The pineapple was nicely caramelised, but the dough was rather too dense for my liking. It tasted fine, but the texture left something to be desired.

The food at Amici Pronto mostly tastes good (with the exception of the pizzas and calzones—we’ve sampled quite a few of these, and they’ve almost always lacked much flavour). The problem is with the textures: food that’s supposed to be served up straight from the oven just doesn’t feel right when it’s been reheated. My advice: if you have the time, head for Amici and sit down to a good meal. It’s much better than Amici Pronto.

Come New Year’s Eve (an occasion my husband and I prefer to spend quietly together, rather than at noisy parties), we decided we’d break with our usual tradition of going out for an early dinner—we’d order in, instead. From Asian Haus.

Asian Haus are only a food delivery service; they don’t have a restaurant. Their online menu made our mouths water: it’s a selection of Pan-Asian food, ranging from Thai to Japanese, with Indonesian, Malay, and even some Chinese dishes thrown in. Thankfully, though, it’s a (mostly) manageable menu: five salads, four soups, eleven appetisers, about five or six main courses in each category (vegetarian, chicken, seafood, mutton, and curries), six types of rice, six types of noodle dishes, and soupy noodles. They also offer desserts, though these change regularly, so you need to ask the order-taker for the dessert of the day. Aerated drinks, mineral water, etc are also available.

Som tum, miso soup, murtabak, otak otak, mapo tofu, kung pao chicken, Thai green and red curries, nasi goreng, khao suey, curry laksa: there were lots of dishes here that we usually enjoy. After much thinking, we finally decided on wasabi prawns as an appetiser, followed by two spicy curries: chicken rendang and Mama’s mutton, with fragrant rice to go with that. The order taker was efficient, though a little indistinct at times—my husband had difficulty figuring out what he was saying. Within less than a minute of the order being finalised, my husband received a text message on his cell phone, confirming the order and the bill amount. We were impressed; this is something nobody in Delhi does.

We’d been told the food would arrive in about 45 minutes’ time, which was acceptable, since the travel time itself from Asian Haus to our home is about half an hour. They kept their promise; about 45 minutes later, the delivery man arrived from Asian Haus, with a large corrugated cardboard box containing our food.

It was bitterly cold outside—Delhi at the peak of winter can get freezingly cold—but the food, to our delight, was still good and hot. Inside the cardboard box were four sealed plastic boxes, each containing one of the items we’d ordered. In addition, there were a few pairs of chopsticks in paper envelopes. Another innovative idea: the wasabi prawns had been individually wrapped in greaseproof paper, which kept them not just hot, but also crisp.

We started with the prawns first: large butterflied prawns, batter-fried, sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds, and served with a lovely wasabi-mayo dip. The prawns were perfectly cooked, the wasabi mayo with just the right amount of zingy wasabi.

The main course proved to be equally good. The fragrant rice, aromatic with fried onions, ginger and garlic, was a gentle counterfoil to the two curries, both of which had hearty, robust flavours. The chicken rendang had a lovely blend of flavours: lemon grass, kaffir lime leaves, and coconut (the latter also toasted and grated over the curry), and was perfectly cooked. Like the chicken, the Mama’s mutton too was boneless. This was a very different curry, though: a dark, rich brown, covered with lots of caramelised onions, and with a delicious sweet-sour-spicy flavour of cinnamon, star anise, and soya sauce.

Both of us loved our meal. It cost us Rs 1,518 (taxes included), which we thought was fairly good value for money, considering we’d certainly pay more than that if we were to order the same dishes in a restaurant.

We ordered a second time from Asian Haus, only about two weeks after the first time. This time round, we ordered a Haus curry (a Malaysian chicken curry), with a fragrant rice and a portion of Vietnamese shaking mutton. The Haus curry, with pieces of tender chicken and potato in a lovely creamy coconut gravy, scented with lemon grass, cassia and star anise, was fragrant and warming.

The Vietnamese shaking mutton—sliced mutton, shaken in a wok with a spicy sauce—was served on a bed of sticky rice, and topped with shredded lettuce and raw onion rings. This one didn’t get our whole-hearted approval; the level of chillies in the sauce was overpowering to the point where I ended up with burning lips and a desire to have lots of sugar. I will add that my tolerance for spice is pretty high.

Still, in the two times we’ve ordered from Asian Haus, we’ve had more hits than misses. We will almost certainly order from them again, though we might decide to give the Vietnamese shaking mutton a very wide berth from now on.

All customers have to do is go to the Bake Box website and place an order—filling up a form to provide your name and address, phone number, and the preferred date of delivery. Currently, Bake Box delivers only on specified dates of a month, usually on the weekends: along with the contents of the month’s bake box, they also list the dates on which the box can be delivered. You can either have it delivered to the address you provide (in which case the box costs Rs 850), or you can pick it up (which costs Rs 750). Payments are cash on delivery.

The bake box for the month we ordered (June 2013) was from a home baker who calls her bakery B.Sweet. The box was touted as a ‘healthy and light’ bake box—not very light nor fat-free, if that’s what one expected, but without icing or heavy cream toppings and fillings. The bake box, as listed on the site, consisted of lemon-poppy seed muffins, a double chocolate mud jar, oat walnut raisin choco chip cookies, chocolate-dipped coconut macarons, red velvet brownie, banana walnut muffin, black bottom cupcake, and buttery scones.

We placed our order online and received an immediate automated mail response confirming the order and providing a phone number we could call in case we had any special instructions. We did; we wanted the box delivered to us before noon on the date we’d specified. When my husband phoned, the lady who answered was polite and efficient, and said that it wouldn’t be a problem, but she’d let us know in advance if they wouldn’t be able to deliver at the time we’d asked. She didn’t phone, and the Bake Box delivery man turned up at our home on the appointed date, at 10 AM! It’s an understatement to say we were impressed; in Delhi, delivery men turning up on time is close to unknown.

The contents of the box were neatly packed in a paper-lined cardboard carton, with a special Bake box red ribbon around it, and a personalised handwritten note addressed to my husband (who’d placed the order). We thought that was a lovely little personal touch.

Now, to the contents of the box itself.

1. chocolate-dipped coconut macarons: I had been expecting something like the classic French macaron, all lovely shiny top and perhaps sandwiched with a coconut cream. What we got, though, was what the most pedestrian of bakeries in India refer to as a coconut ‘macaroon’: a somewhat soft biscuit-like confection flavoured with lots of desiccated coconut. This was a walnut-sized spherical macaroon, its top dipped in chocolate sauce and allowed to set. Not bad, but not something I’d have expected from a baker of any worth.

2. Oat walnut raisin choco chip cookies: This was much more the thing! These cookies had that lovely chewiness of oats, and were lavishly studded with chocolate chips and walnuts, though the raisins were slightly fewer in number. A definite improvement on the macarons.

3. Banana walnut muffin: This was one of my favourites from the bake box: I love bananas, and this muffin was loaded with the fruit, and with just the right amount of chopped walnuts too. Lovely texture, nice and moist. The only problem I had with this was that it was just too small! I expect muffins to be substantial enough for one to last through one cup of tea or coffee; this one was so tiny, all of it could be finished in just three bites!

4. Red velvet brownie: The handwritten note that had come with the bake box—from the Bake Box team, not the baker herself—had especially mentioned the red velvet brownie as being ‘awesome’. I was a little sceptical; while I love brownies, red velvet cake isn’t a huge favourite with me, mostly because I’m more attracted to interesting flavours than to pretty colours and lots of frosting. The red velvet brownie, however, was an interesting blend of pretty colour and flavour. It tasted of chocolate, was a rich deep crimson in colour, and had that slightly chewy, fudgy feel of a good brownie. I’d have preferred more chocolate in the brownie, or perhaps some textural contrast in the way of nuts or chocolate chips, but even without those, this was a good sweet.

5. Lemon-poppy seed muffin: Like the banana walnut muffin, this one too was far too small for my liking—and, unlike the banana walnut muffin, this one wasn’t too great either. For one, the texture was a bit dry. For another, it didn’t taste very much of the ingredients it was named for. True, I could see the poppy seeds sprinkled over the top, but since poppy seeds, at least in such small quantities, have very little flavour of their own, they didn’t contribute much—not even in the way of texture. And if I hadn’t known this was supposed to be a lemon muffin, I wouldn’t have known; I couldn’t taste any lemon there.

6. Double chocolate mud jar: The double chocolate mud jar was a small plastic jar, covered and tied with a cute little blue ribbon. Inside was a gooey, deliciously moist and chocolate-rich dessert, rather like a broken-up cake, studded with walnuts. A runaway hit with both my husband and I; we loved it.

7. Buttery scones: The scones were probably the least impressive of all the items in the bake box. They were stodgy, not really buttery, and with nothing to recommend them in terms of either taste or texture. Also, since they were plain scones, and they didn’t come with any sort of compote, jam, or other spread with them, we needed to improvise—a bit of a problem since we don’t usually consume jam, and so didn’t have any at home. We had our scones with maple syrup instead, which was better than having them plain, but it still didn’t do much to improve the texture.

8. Black bottom cupcake: This was a small, un-iced cupcake made from a dark chocolate batter, with what looked like a teaspoonful of plain vanilla batter poured on top before being baked. Nice enough, but not spectacular.

Overall, this was an erratic bake box. Some of the things—the cookies, the mud jar, and the banana muffin—were good; others were average; the scones were avoidable. That, I suppose, is probably the case with Bake Box as a concept, too: some home bakers may be good, others not. It’s perhaps a bit of a gamble here. And, going by the quantities in the bake box, an expensive one, too: there isn’t a huge amount of stuff here, and if there are more than two of you to share the contents, it can be frustrating.

In Delhi, one of the most popular biryani joints to order from is D’s Biryani (sometimes also referred to—by the establishment itself—as Deez Biryani). This was set up by someone called Dileep Singh, and has been existence for quite a few years now. The main shop is in Defence Colony (in South Delhi), but they have branches in other parts of Delhi (and in neighbouring NOIDA). Importantly, they deliver biryani almost all across Delhi.

The D’s Biryani menu, available online, of course focuses on biryani: D’s own signature handi biryani (a handi being an earthenware pot in which the biryani is ‘finished’ and delivered); Hyderabadi biryani (a spicy version, not for those who can’t handle chillies), and a Pakistani version which includes potatoes and tomatoes, besides the meat. Biryanis are available in three different pack sizes (the menu, helpfully, specifies how many each pack will serve; the ‘small’ serves one). Each style of biryani is available with chicken or mutton (that is, goat’s meat), or vegetarian.

In addition, D’s also offers gravies, raitas and a range of mostly non-vegetarian kababs to go with the biryani.

We’d decided we had to sample their specialty—a biryani—but we also wanted to have something else from the menu. So we ordered a small signature biryani (with mutton), a raita, and a portion of murgh malai tikka (boneless chicken marinated in a very mild creamy marinade of ginger, garlic, cream, and grated cheese, before being char-grilled in a tandoor).

It took about 45 minutes for the food to arrive. This is very barebones packaging: the earthenware handi containing the biryani, since it was the star of the show, was the only thing that was prettied up, with a little printed red cloth under it, and a thick red cord slung and knotted around and about the handi, allowing it to be carried. Everything else came in polythene bags. One small bag was full of a chutney made of yoghurt, green coriander (or mint, I couldn’t tell), and lots of green chillies. Another polythene bag contained raw onion rings, a favourite with biryanis and kababs. A brownish-red gravy—no meat, just the gravy—came in another bag. One largish bowl made of single-use white plastic contained the raita. The chicken tikkas, wrapped in aluminium foil, also nestled in a polythene bag.

So what was my opinion of the food? Mixed.

The biryani handi is traditionally filled with the biryani, covered with a lid which is then sealed down with a fat strip of uncooked dough all along the rim, and bunged into a tandoor to gently cook long enough to let the flavours infuse. Slitting open the charred dough at home and taking off the lid—and the top of the aluminium foil in which the biryani rests—released a mouth-watering fragrance of cooked meat and spices. The small handi contained enough rice for both my husband and I, though there were only three rather bony pieces of meat to go with it. Dotted through the spicy rice were a very few raisins and bits of cashew nut. Both of us liked the biryani, though I would have preferred it a wee bit less spicy.

The gravy which came along side (and which a lot of people—not my husband, and not I—like to eat with biryani) was a fiery-looking one which my husband passed up. I, out of mere curiosity, decided to taste it, and found that it didn’t taste bad at all. Yes, it was spicy, and there was a little more oil in it than I cared for, but the flavour was quite good, and the texture—nice and thick, because of long-cooked onions and tomatoes—was perfect.

Less perfect was the raita, whisked yoghurt mixed with chopped onions and tomatoes. This hadn’t been seasoned at all, and so was very insipid. What’s more, vast quantities of water appeared to have been added to it, making it even more bland (plus watery).

The murgh malai tikka, while it tasted fine, was overcooked and dry. The accompanying chutney was a mix of hot (thanks to copious amounts of green chillies in the mix) and too-sour (thanks to the yoghurt, which had fermented more than it should have). The raw onions rings had the oddly off taste and not-too-crunchiness of onions that have been peeled and sliced in large quantities and allowed to sit around for hours.

We paid Rs 661.20 for our meal, including all taxes. Compared to some other home-delivered and takeway joints (like Asian Haus), that’s on the cheaper side, but both my husband and I agreed that we wouldn’t order from D’s again. The food is just not good enough.