Selva

Selva landed in Aerocity with the self-professed goal of expanding Delhi’s idea of Latin American cuisine from pre-mixed tacos and spice-dusted mayonnaise for cheese to flavours plucked from both forest and land. Sarthak Sidana, who founded it, says the freshness of South America’s ingredients while visiting his brother, above all, that inspired Selva. 

Well, this goal’s been dipped in before, most notably by Eldeco Centre’s Latoya in Saket. Luckily, no one in the capital gives a crap about who’s first. And Selva makes sure it’s never pigeonholed into one showman personality. The first phrase that comes to mind when I walk in is sexy of the Delhi cocktail bar kind. Sleek, sharp-angled, black, gold, and woody interiors dim enough to remind you you’re in a planned ‘hospitality district’, but stopping just short of causing squints at the menu. Squint instead to find an eschewed entrance to the intimate bar, Selva Maya, inside. Find your way in when it's open. It’s a serious miss if you don’t sit at the bartender’s table for at least a third of your time. 

The cocktails themselves, with sourced ingredients that the bartenders are nerds about, are outrageously both good and boozy. How dare a pricey Delhi spot do that? The food’s a mix of Nikkei, Peruvian, Mexican, and even fusion Japanese, a combination that slowly grows on me with misses here and there, which is a good thing. It’s a polarising menu (you’ll see why soon), and the table I’m sharing is full of sharp-tongued folk. Stand your ground flavour-wise and your night’s ending quite well.

The drinks

My favorite cocktail, the one I ended up repeating despite my duties, is the Gojira. What a literal gold star. A glowy blend of mandarin, orange, lemon, lime, goji berry, apple chamomile soda, mezcal, and tequila – it’s sour and fizzy and creamy, which undoes some of the citrus, topped by a slice of excellently sharp cheese. Down with the cherry propaganda, indeed.

Viper’s Venom has watermelon rind on top of raw mango tiger’s milk (leche de tigre, used to cure raw fish for ceviche) with Bombay Sapphire and white chocolate vermouth. A ceviche-inspired dirty martini that’s umami in a way that makes me glad I ordered it before the food came in. 

The Jaguar of Selva, nutty and somewhat chocolatey with engraved ice, almost lands like an edible perfume. Salted earl grey, agave, tonka bean whiskey and homemade sherry. I wouldn't write home about this one, though. The Nomad Monkey also hits too close to a vanilla coke and rum.

The Bloody Heron, meanwhile (did a horror writer name these drinks?) is a sickly good highball that kicks any basic bitch savoury drink to the curb. Grey goose vodka, beetroot, tomato blend, watermelon bloody mary mix, sansho pepper fish oil, tabasco sauce, beer foam, and garnished with bacon. This is what happens after you say bloody mary thrice in the mirror.

Every drinker on earth is entitled to some hypocrisy, so I’ll shamelessly also praise Selva’s basic bitch picante. It’s quite good if you like picantes, and at the risk of losing my reviewer card, I’ll say I occasionally do.

Not all of these will be on the menu at the same time. Hence why I said you should nag the bartender.

What to pair a cocktail-heavy night at Selva with

The guacamole (because obviously), nachos and salsa are not necessarily exceptional, but they do the nifty job of pairing well with any drink on the menu as long as you’ve got that lemon squeeze in. The sweet potato fries do this even better, but maybe save them for a thinner or more savory drink, such as the Bloody Heron. They melt in your mouth and lack the overt masala of many of their counterparts in Delhi restaurants. My number one contender, though, is the prawn toast. It is delicious. The right amount of meat and spice balance. The right amount of mushiness to crispy ratio. 

The food

Dining at Selva is where you’ll have to incorporate the flavour-scanning goggles I mentioned. I’d skip the salads. But get the smoked duck salad if you must. The carefully portioned duck pairs quite well with the dressing and vegetables. 

The purple potato is also something I didn’t like, but a caveat is that the rest of the table rose up in protest against my opinion. We rally, though, around the crispy nori tacos and the soft shell tuna tacos, which are divine bites as soon as you get used to something spilling out of the left corner of the shell. The Selva signature sushi, I felt, was good but relied on seasoning quite a smidge. Perhaps that’s a minor complaint, best smashed under a few drinks. 

Selva’s warm, ample chicken katsu rice easily bests many of the city’s Asian, even Korean, spots. Shocking, given they haven’t boasted as much about their Japanese food. It’s diggable in spoons even after the curry’s gone cold and the chicken’s gone a little soggy. The dimsum (not momo, and you’re about to see why that distinction is important) is also oddly fiery under all that softness, an interesting choice for a lone dimsum offer, but very good nonetheless. (Another unique choice is how bitter the tofu remains in the tofu dishes, which also pays off.) 

The salmon avocado tlayuda (cold pizza) is wonderful, heartily caviar-topped and a velvety bar snack at the same time, and it vanishes in minutes. It’s at its best when you’re properly dining and you need something to surprise people fast. The Mexican prawn and skewers are tomato- and char-heavy, which lure you in when you have a sweet drink in hand. (And come on, we’re in goddamned Delhi.) I’m not fond of ceviche, so it’s besides the point for me to comment on those.

Overall, anything that anyone ordered for themselves (emphasis on themselves) was devoured with joy, sober or not. The vegetarian counterparts were equally good. The full menu’s much more expansive, so travel well.