Zijah Sherwani

Sitting on a mat in a completely abandoned café with a bunch of strangers and watching a horror movie sounds almost like the plot of a horror flick itself. That’s precisely why it’s so satisfying that Khatarnaak Films has become one of Delhi’s most exciting grassroots film communities. Founded by Tara and Karma, two horror screenwriters for whom the genre has always been the easiest way to connect with people, Khatarnaak Films started as a simple thought: wouldn’t it be nicer to watch horror films with more folks? The result is a steady stream of bi-weekly screenings. You book your ticket in advance, arrive, grab some drinks and snacks, take your shoes off, and find yourself a nice spot on the floor to watch the film. At one screening of Helter Skelter, the room was split straight down the middle by the time the credits rolled – half loving it, half hating it. But nobody could stop talking about how beautiful every frame looked. This, really, is the point of a club in the first place. The film club is deliberate about what they programme. Obviously, horror is the heartland, but anything that feels a little dangerous has a home here. The long-term vision is a proper theatre, a sustainable model, and free screenings, but the founders say it’ll always retain its heart: dissecting what just happened on the screen at length. As Tara puts it, what else would you be doing in the 2020s? Go while it still feels like a secret.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ Screening schedule: Check their Instagram p

Before it became a café, Vietnam-ease Càphê was a supper club in a basement. ‘We just wanted to know whether people would like this cuisine or not,’ says chef Trang Nguyen. They did. Bookings grew. At one point, a family of 20 turned up at once. During the pandemic, they shifted to delivery out of her husband Dhruv’s parents’ house, with Vietnamese food being cooked alongside Punjabi meals. Staff recalled seeing fish sauce for the first time. Now, the space is more polished, but that early instinct remains. The rice paper pizza is the one to order. The crispness and caramelised onions made me super happy. Don’t come back without trying this, and their very, very popular Bahn-Mi. Their latest bar menu is also a breath of fresh air, in the sense that it doesn’t try to outdo other bars. The idea is straightforward – eight cocktails mapped across Vietnam, from north to south. But instead of chasing novelty or ‘fusion’, these drinks are rooted in the ingredients, smells, and references that already exist in Vietnamese food and drinking culture. Drinks are made with sake, soju, beer and white wine. The menu calls them memories in a glass and for once, that doesn’t feel like a throwaway line.  Pho Real uses their in-house pho broth. Not a hint of it – the actual base. It’s savoury, a little confusing at first, but the warmth in it keeps bringing you back. Hanoi Old Quarter has soju and rose with fragrances of citrus and edible camphor. The taste is really like how a temple smells –

Don’t let the name fool you. Rude Chef is anything but abrasive, and their portions are generous. Tucked into Humayunpur’s beloved Asian food hub, it serves up contemporary Southeast Asian cuisine with a confident vision: think seafood-forward palettes which are surprisingly like comfort food, co-owner Lanchui Lungleng’s Manipuri roots showing up in local spices, and a set-up easy on the eyes. As you enter, you’ll notice one of two things. The bamboo seating, pen-sketch artwork on the walls and warm yellow lighting make it comfortable for long meals and conversation, with enough space for large groups too. Or the madly popular house black sticky rice wine on almost every single table. Rose-hued, gently fermented and lightly sweet, it works well, with an excellent selection of quantities. Seafood lovers should definitely make room for the grilled prawns in truffle and basil sauce or the generous seafood curry platter served with rice. I’ll go out on a limb to say that the non-seafood dishes deserve more attention. The braised pork belly is buttery, easy on the teeth, and prepared in perilla sauce, served alongside a tahini dip and stir-fry vegetables. Buff skewers marinated in mountain pepper are soft and spicy, and pair well with the buff salad, where beef carpaccio sits over a bed of lettuce, tossed in citrusy flavours, gochujang, sirarakhong chilli and truffle sauce. Overall, Rude Chef delivers polished cooking and prices that feel fair for the quality on the table. It’s an

For many in Delhi, Mizo Diner was the first introduction to home-style Northeastern food, its thalis and rice beer shaping familiarity with the cuisine. With it shut on Sundays for church, I ended up at Mahelal’s. Opened in October 2024, it sits right before the main Humayunpur market – easy to spot. The layout feels more like a drawing room than a restaurant when I enter. There’s a projector playing music videos, a mix of tables and couches, and even some games. I found Mahelal roasting coffee for a customer, speaking about his interest in bringing Northeastern coffee into the mainstream. He sources his beans from Nagaland, a discovery he made while running a café in Manipur. The menu itself leans into Manipuri flavours: ingredients like black rice, sirarakhong hathei chilli and mountain pepper turn up everywhere across the menu, from chicken skewers to pastas. For the Manipuri thali, I went with the duck curry. It came with four sides: sinju (a salad with a tangy, spicy dressing made from roasted red chillies, fermented fish (ngari), gram flour and roasted perilla seeds or sesame), eromba (a chutney of bamboo shoot, potatoes, tomato, fermented fish and chillies), boiled vegetables and dal. It’s a bold, spice-forward plate with fermented flavours that doesn’t soften for unfamiliar palates. To finish, there’s heimang tea (sumac berry), tangy like tamarind, which I was told helps digest the meal. On Sundays, they host a post-service community buffet priced at ₹699. You can com

The Grammar Room’s a place you return to over and over again. It’s stood the test of time; it’s got great ambience; the food’s lovely; what more could you want? It’s the sort of restaurant that becomes part of your going-out vocabulary when you’re sick of trying out new experimental stuff and just want to pass your lunchtime in sophisticated peace.  The interiors feel vaguely Moorish. The biggest draw’s the sun, which streams in from every corner, and their little patio, which looks out onto the forested ridge. Folks come here for dates, for whiling away their work-from-home days, or in large groups typically interested in downing as many G&Ts as they can.  The menu’s playful. Standouts include the Turkish eggs (the in-house labneh’s killer), the summer rolls, the avocado toast, and the chicken katsu sandwich. End with pancakes. Time Out tip:  Come before 11:30 if you want the best seats and a quieter table. Weekends fill up fast, and service can slow down when it’s packed.