For Valentine's Day, we have a tradition of going to the Bombay Club Indian restaurant for their Valentine's Day extravaganza where they do a once-a-year gala and pull out all the stops -- a tremendously indulgent experience that we look forward to every year. Last year, we enjoyed their new digs in the South End, even if we missed the romantic location in Harvard Square.
Having made reservations on Open Table a couple of weeks prior (a necessity given the high demand of this event), Dan and I got a little primmed up and hopped on the Orange line to the Back Bay T stop where we would then walk the mile out to their South End location on Washington Street. The South End carries its own romance and made a lovely pallet for a pre-dinner stroll. Thanks, The Gays!
We rounded the corner of Washington Street, pausing to admire the display and bustle of Foodies Market, and arrived at the Bombay Club. Except that the windows were dark. Really dark. And then we noticed the imposing "FOR SALE" signs all over the windows. "Is this the right address?" "This is where it was, right?" "Well, yeah...It still says 'Bombay Club' above the door." After inspecting all the posters on the off chance that there was a helpful "WE'VE MOVED!" sign -- of which there were none -- we made an about face and walked back to the train station.
A local chocolaterie on Dartmouth Street let us in and sold us delicious chocolate truffles of lavender, homemade marzipan, and sesame caramel while we parleyed with its proprietor about the strange experience. "We got a reservation confirmation and everything. It just seems a little odd," I puzzled. The proprietor, a bubbly and nurturing woman with curly hair and a flair for life, copuzzled, "Isn't that strange?! Just the other day, I was talking with a girl who tended bar there when it was still the Pho Pasteur. Just this past Sunday, she said she thought the Bombay Club might close. Something about trouble with the lease. Wow. That was fast! That's how it is with restaurants; they can close just like that! Here one day, gone the next." One of her friends in the tiny room chimed, "They closed their stand in Faneuil Hall, too." Noooooooooo!!!
In the end, Dan and I went back to JP after our romantic stroll and tasty chocolates in the South End. We were greeted with a warm reception at the Ghazal, where we grab Indian food every other week or so. They know us there, and they were pleased to see us. Similarly, it did us good to see our favorite neighborhood Indian spot doing such brisk business. We had a lovely meal and we made attempts to order things that we don't ordinarily get so it would still feel special.
It wasn't the same, but nothing stays forever. We'd been going to the Bombay Club for special occasions for years and it had become a staple in the corner of many important memories. Valentine's Day was the typical cause, but we also went there the evening that Dan proposed to me. Further, it is the first Indian restaurant where Dan had eaten -- and only at the behest of an Indian friend of his, who has since passed away. The idea that a vessel of our traditions was so fragile and broken swiftly was cause of great disorientation and sadness. We're happy that we have the Ghazal, our favorite neighborhood Indian restaurant, but we will sadly miss the Bombay Club, its wonderful staff, food, and memories.
