A Sunlit Pause For My Weekend…

There’s something to be said about arriving in Mumbai’s Bandra Kurla Complex on a Saturday afternoon and finding it almost calm. The glass towers stand still, the suits have clocked out, and the neighbourhood exhales into a rare weekend lull. It’s in this softened version of BKC that I found myself settling in at the newly opened Olive Café & Bar, invited in for a long, lazy lunch with a guest and absolutely nowhere else to be.

Step inside, and the pace drops immediately. Olive’s familiar sun-washed aesthetic translates beautifully here—white walls softened with gentle blues and greens, light pouring in, and a sense of ease that feels almost transportive. A gentle undercurrent of Son Cubano drifts through the space, its warm Afro-Cuban rhythms adding an easy, sensual pulse that makes the room feel alive without ever demanding attention. It’s polished but not precious, relaxed without trying too hard. The room feels designed for lingering: business lunches stretching into coffee, friends drifting from salads to cocktails, conversations unhurried.

Small Plates, Big Comfort
We began with the Baby Back (pork) Ribs, slow-cooked until obligingly tender, glazed just enough to be sticky-sweet without tipping into excess. Beneath them sat a warm, succotash-like mix of pearl barley and charred corn—nutty, smoky, and comforting in the best way. It’s the sort of dish that understands balance: richness held in check by texture and restraint.

The Fritto Misto followed—a generous medley of lightly battered seafood like calamari and white bait, fried just right. The coating was perfectly crisp without being heavy, finished with a gentle dusting of Cajun spice that added warmth rather than heat. The cool dill-mayo dip gave this preparation a clean and moreish appeal, making the fried seafood disappear far quicker than expected.

Next came Edamame XO, a simple idea elevated by confidence. Wok-tossed edamame slicked in umami-rich XO sauce, deeply savoury and moreish, the kind of plate you keep reaching for absent-mindedly while talking animatedly across the table.

The Caprese Salad arrived looking crisp and refreshed, anchored by creamy burrata and accentuated with glistening segments of grapefruit. The citrus brought a welcome bitterness and brightness, cutting through the richness and making the whole thing feel light, yet elevated, a tad!

Cocktails That Know Their Station
That grapefruit note made for an easy segue into drinks. The Paloma Paloma! was excellently judged—tequila-led, bright with citrus, and finished with a salt and kaffir lime dust rim that sharpened every sip. It was refreshing without being simplistic, grown-up without losing its sense of fun.

We followed this with the Smoky Picante (as one does, these days!), where tequila and mezcal meet guava, chilli, coriander, and ginger. It had depth and warmth, the smoke never overpowering, the spice gently insistent rather than showy. Alongside it, the Parisian Bling felt elegant and floral, with gin, lavender, and lime. Our request for no egg white was met without fuss, replaced seamlessly with a vegetarian alternative—likely aquafaba—resulting in a drink that was just as silky and well-structured.

Not everything hit the mark, though. A non-alcoholic Mugicha made a brief appearance and, for me, missed entirely—its roasted grain notes oddly reminiscent of an iced, soy-heavy bone broth. Admirable in intent, but not one I’d revisit.

Mains with Muscle and Soul
For mains, I went straight for the buff steak—a dry-aged 9 oz tenderloin, cooked medium-rare with confidence and exactly what I needed after weeks of steak cravings. Juicy, properly seasoned, and paired with pomme purée, baby vegetables, wilted kale, and a peppercorn sauce that behaved itself by not overpowering anything.

Across the table, the ginger salmon impressed differently. Beautifully plated with a clean, almost Western sensibility, it revealed its Asian soul on the palate. Soy-marinated, grilled just right, resting on sticky rice with stir-fried spinach, sesame, cashews, Thai chilli, and teriyaki sauce—it was harmonious and flavour-forward.

Pastel-Hued Sweet Endings
Dessert felt like a soft landing, awash in gentle colours and calm indulgence. The strawberry tres leches was creamy and divine, its pale pink and ivory tones mirroring its delicate sweetness. Alongside it sat a pale green iced matcha for me, finished with a playful bourbon foam, and a comforting beige cappuccino for my guest that did exactly what it should. Together, they formed a pastel tableau.

I left Olive Café & Bar feeling like I’d stolen a little extra time from the day. The kind where lunch stretches longer than planned, the conversation flows easily, and no one’s in a hurry to check the clock. In a neighbourhood that usually thrives on deadlines and calendars, this felt refreshingly indulgent. On a Saturday afternoon when BKC had collectively slowed its stride, Olive was exactly where I wanted to be—one last sip, one last bite, and absolutely no rush to leave.