In my childhood, trips to Connaught Place frequently ended with visits to Wenger’s. The once Swiss-owned confectionery was a favourite haunt for snacks in between shopping. The chicken patties and éclairs were my favourites as a teenager. Mummy would buy their plum cake for tea. She knew Daddy found it irresistible. Rarely could he resist a second slice!
It was only in my 20s that I discovered Wenger’s flourie tarts. Covered with dry and crystallised fruit, I came to love the way my teeth would sink into the pastry. Over the last few decades this wickedly delightful creation is what I always buy from Wenger’s. Indeed, whenever Pertie — do you remember him; he hasn’t appeared in this column for a while? — drops by the office, he brings Flourie tarts in Wenger’s famous and easily recognised boxes.
He knows it’s an offering that can only please me. On such occasions, he tends to open the box with a flourish as if to declare look what I’ve brought. Instantly, the aroma of freshly baked pastry wafts through the room.
The Wenger’s restaurant on the first floor — I assume it still exists — serves delightfully strong coffee. It has small tables with low lamps. It feels cozy and quiet. That is probably because most people visit the confectionery on the ground floor, buy their breads, cakes and patties, and leave.
{{/usCountry}}The Wenger’s restaurant on the first floor — I assume it still exists — serves delightfully strong coffee. It has small tables with low lamps. It feels cozy and quiet. That is probably because most people visit the confectionery on the ground floor, buy their breads, cakes and patties, and leave.
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Wenger’s delights are best savoured with the family or as you saunter through the colonnaded corridors of Connaught Place, heading to the next shop you want to visit or on your way home.
In the early 1970s, after taking the Senior Cambridge exam and whilst waiting for the results to be announced, my Doon School chum Rajbir Singh and I walked from the Gymkhana Club to Connaught Place so I could introduce him to Wenger’s. “I’m sure we have better stuff in Bombay,” he insisted as we wended our way. He was wrong and readily admitted it as he munched his second chocolate éclair whilst licking fragments of the sweet cream off his fingers.
Why do I mention all of this? Because Wenger’s has just turned a 100 years old. There are few shops that have done more to please and feed the denizens of Delhi over the last century.
If a culinary history of the capital were to be written, Wenger’s along with Moti Mahal and Kake di Hatti would be assured places of pride. They represent more than just good food. They are part of the tradition and style of our city. In fact, they help define Delhi.
Wenger’s was opened by Jeanne Seterchi Wenger and HC Wenger, and its first location was at Kashmere Gate. It moved to the corner of A-block, Connaught Place, in 1933. Since then, it is said, its devoted customers have included Atal Bihari Vajpayee and Shah Rukh Khan.
But it is the ordinary Delhiite, visiting to buy croissants, cheese straws or pastries, with children clamouring for cream cakes, that must be amongst the confectionery’s favourite and most reliable clientele. Their custom is its guarantee of success.
Today, as I remember Connaught Place, the shops that come to mind are iconic and were often old haunts. New Book Depot, where I spent ages browsing through their collection. Sahib Singh, which used to be the chemist we always visited. Empire Stores, now history, whose fresh sliced ham was delightful. Pandit Brothers, where you could buy almost anything you needed. And Wenger’s. They were the shops I was most familiar with. Many are no longer there. What a joy Wenger’s still is!
Last week, in London, I spent many afternoons watching Wimbledon and devouring strawberries and cream. On sunny afternoons, it is a joy to have with a glass of Pimms or, better still, chilled champagne. Now, if only Wenger’s would introduce strawberries and cream on their winter menu. As Eliza Doolittle would say, wouldn’t that be “loverly”?
Do you think the management might take a hint?
Karan Thapar is the author of Devil’s Advocate: The Untold Story. The views expressed are personal