I keep repeating myself: I LOVE Sublime!

It’s  the nicest bistro in Goa, it’s better than anywhere I’ve eaten in Bombay, Pune or Delhi and could give serious competition to restaurants like Prune in Paris, or one of those delicious places in Talinn or Barcelona. It is not pretentious: it is wholly cool and hipster, oozing art and eclectic decor and great taste for the eyes, the mouth.  And your ears will revel in the soulful Ethiopian jazz that pours out from the speakers.

Chef Christopher Saleem Agha Bee may be my and #lovethisman’s favourite cousin but cousin or not, we have always been huge fans of his food and his creative culinary genius, since way back in 2004. While I miss old favourites on the menu ( despite his disgusted, “what?! You still want me to serve what I made 15 years ago??”) his food is constantly evolving each season to reflect his own personal journey with taste, and the menu changes accordingly. This itself elevates our annual Goa trip to “pilgrimage”status. If you are like us and visit Goa with a list of restaurants to eat in, Sublime must certainly make the top 3, right next to Nostalgia and Martin’s Corner!( yes there are heaps of modern and fusion restaurants but somehow we keep returning here, and yes, we do pay for our meals!)

Influenced by multiple cultures growing up, all Chris’ life experiences subtly combine to create food bursting with drama and panache.

Christopher was named Saleem by his father’s side of the family. His mother, my husband’s aunt Valerie named him Chris.

Chris grew up in the confluence of his mother’s East Indian- Bombay roots and his father’s Bollywood- Iranian heritage. His actor father, the legendary Jalal Agha, came from a long line of talented actors. His grandmother, Bibi Joon, was a magnificent, beautiful woman and a great cook who lavished Chris with food from her kitchen, her heritage, when he visited.

If you ask Chris about his food heritage, he will tell you how much he was influenced by both his Grandmothers and his mother, the effervescent Valerie. All three talented cooks, Chris was weaned on cuisines from across the world. He grew up eating the pure, clean, fresh flavours of Iranian food at Bibi Joon’s, before moving to Germany and later on America, where the world was on his plate. He still remembers the flavors of Bibi Joon’s cooking. She almost never made Indian food, running a wholly traditional Iranian kitchen in Pune, with pure ghee, fresh vegetables and very little spice.

The debonair Jalal Agha proudly carved his name in Bollywood Cinema, and was much loved by the film fraternity. Who can forget him strumming the banjo in Sholay or the iconic Pan Parag TV commercial? I suspect this is where Chris inherited his artistic talent and flair for the dramatic. You just have to look at one of his plated meals, or around the room at Sublime, and you will find heightened emotion and a degustation in three acts. There is drama in the fantastical chandelier juxtaposed against the emotional red wall, spilling light in pools of intimacy for that elusive feeling of privacy in a large room. There is drama in the mournful music that taps a beat across your heart, and drama in the reflection that stares back at you from a diva-worthy mirror behind the bar. The potted palms are like props on stage, casting shadows and revealing nothing.

Chris himself spent time in boarding schools in India and many memorable intervals in Bombay before moving to Germany and America and finishing at the Culinary Institute of America. He speaks fluent German and although hugely influenced by European cooking styles, he manages to infuse magic in spices and combinations that delight and thrill rather than shock. A gastronomic gypsy, Chris has built a kitchen from his library of taste and memory. He wields a wickedly sharp long knife with child-like glee, grinning as sweat pours off his tattooed shoulders in the humid soup that is Goa weather. His shining black eyes flicker reflecting tongues of flame before turning to limpid pools that seek only to bring joy to you on a plate, to feed you, to soothe you with a symphony in your mouth.

What did we feast on?

Fish, lots of fresh fish like sea bass and prawns.

There was juicy chicken roulade.

The beef carpaccio was ……sublime.

A fillet of beef, asian style with five spices or continental.

There were fresh caught prawns.

The goan choriz sauseage with mussels in a signature broth that you dunk local poiee bread into.

The crunchy house salad or the crispy calamari with apricot chutney.

A selection of veggie and vegan options like the silken tofu, or luscious stuffed portobello mushrooms.

There are sides like wasabi pumpkin mash, braised kohlrabi, elephant’s foot puree….these are local veggies mostly ignored even in our own kitchens.

You keep going back for more.

And more.

You return again and again to try and delve into each flavor and nuance of the sous-vide pork belly or the deconstructed crusty mustard fish. You try to nail the connection in your brain, to preserve it like a cherished photo to be pulled out on a night when this memory will bring you back to a long table laden with food and conversation and heady wine all bursting in your mouth with taste and more explosions of taste. Will you ever find the lyrics to that tuna ceviche?

Even the saffron and fenugreek seafood risotto was mind blowing. This I have on good authority from a Canadian risotto fiend who was bowled over by his meal at Sublime on a pouring monsoon day .

For the first time ever, Sublime was open this monsoon and we were content to troop there for every meal we could.

We still didn’t manage to eat enough.

I have withdrawal symptoms from being denied such fresh, flavorful food back home.

I feel inordinately proud of this man, this artiste with his sensitive and loving personality coupled with incredible intelligence and taste buds. His creations are wholly unique and so him, each one a tantalizing glimpse into the soul of this chef: charming, wild, arty, deep-hearted, bursting with ideas and flavor  and always filled with surprises and drama, always that dramatic edge to his spaces and food….and….and…… I could go on. But if I had to use only one word, it would be love. You can’t help but feel his love that wraps everything he does into a silken cocoon woven only by his artistry.

We read about the food movement abroad, about chef owned bistros with stress on local ingredients and fresh, new flavours. We dine vicariously on Instagram and the Food Network, we adore rock star chefs. We have a few who are this passionate, this involved with what they make, foraging in the countryside and melding flavours from across the world right here in Bombay. Here is a rock star chef, RIGHT HERE, who embodies everything we crave: a man  who is passionate about food and hasn’t yet sold his soul to corporates or franchised his work, his art, his craft. A man who does his own marketing and cooks every day, making the food at Sublime personal. It is this connection we crave, and that we find at Sublime, this personal connection that is almost impossible to find in most concept- driven and franchised, trendy, hipster restaurants.

We went to Sublime’s  newest home in Assagao, now Goa s trendiest and most hipster food location. You could spend all week eating crazy-delicious food at a new restaurant in Assagao every day, and keep discovering more places. Another post on eating out in Goa is overdue but this is all about my love for Chris and Sublime.

Sublime has had many avatars, from beach-side to riverfront. This season, Sublime is at home in an old Portuguese bungalow, each cavernous room quirky and filled with art from Everywhere. Paintings, glamorous mirrors, throws, and stunning centerpiece chandleliers- lamps that Chris himself designed with the famous Soto House, Candolim- take centrestage bestowing a wholly unique ambiance to an already unique dining experience. It’s not a super fussy bistro. There are tea lights and flower petals, sometimes there are colorful saris draped artistically. There are sepia photos of Chris and his father, Chris with his siblings. His dogs roam freely and make friends with guests. This place is an ode to a man who practices his art every day in the kitchen, and serves it in a place that is as unpretentious and disarmingly charming as himself. The slightly rough, grungy and unfinished bits are deliberate and masterful. You dwell on the highlights that stand out in stark contrast to their setting, a sort of poetry that directs your gaze to what you should focus on, instead of clouding your senses by blitzing them with too much.

Sublime evokes Cuba ( I don’t know why Cuba, I’ve never been!) And Barcelona and Lisbon and Rome and Goa and Osaka and Marseilles and Sicily. It’s the kind of serendipitous place you stumble onto, a taverna in Lisbon, a bottega in Tuscany. It is about the food, yes, but it is also so much more than that. It is the meal that will make the holiday, the meal you will sigh and remember years later when you think about a rainy, wet night in Goa.

Go and taste for yourself.