Playsure Island

Samosas and Pakoras and good chai. They prefer cash.

Grimy, slimy, but somewhat charming.
I am aware that these kinds of places have their roots in male only domains — men puffing away on stubs of self-​rolled cigarette twigs, mouths sloshing away with hand-​rolled betel leaf roll concoctions called ‘Paan’ filled with a variety of the weird and the wonderful, from tobacco to candied coconut, knocking away on pool tables arguing the merits of Hamza’s wife’s lip-​smacking mutton biryani versus Juman’s sister-in-law’s divine’s lamb biryani during Eid Festivals.
That or whether whether Ali’s, who sadly couldn’t be here today due to work, wife packs a bigger rack (of lamb, of course) than Kiran’s single 28-​year old career woman sister.
But the ticket of entry was by default granted to me when I was brought here by a strapping male member of the community to be my honorary chaperone and guide, with promises of steamy, short styrofoam cups filled with punchy chai made by a bona-​fide chai wallah (known as the local tea guy in South Asian neighbourhoods).
Stepping in here is an Alice in Wonderland moment. The stark contrast between the awkwardly named «Playsure Island», no doubt an attempt by an ‘uncle’ over 40 to fit in with local Americans y’all — and the fact that upon entry you are not sure what exactly about this dingy space brings pleasure.
Filled with any number of men predominantly from the subcontinent packing greased lightning hanging about watching modern Bollywood movies bordering on soft porn or cricket matches, or cracking away on pool tables, with styrofoam cups of chai and stark paper plates filled with savoury odds and ends like samosas, mystery chaats, and bread laden with stuffings, the place smells and plays like the Zanzibar in the 60s.
I pictured a muscled revolutionary holding an AK-​47 stomping through at any moment seeking refuge from the sticky heat, bandanna over head, nodding at his fellow comrades in Playsure Island, before heading over to order a tobacco paan, a chai that would punch the lights out of any Joe Blow who comes across it, and a samosa.
With its stained carpets, McDonalds-​style plastic booth seats lining the sides of the rectangular, windowless room, combined the heady mix of tobacco, paan, old cooking smells, stale air and men, any sane-​minded person would walk in and make a beeline out because oops, I forgot my keys.
At the display counters, a husband and wife team and an older patriarch perches sombrely as I looked over what was on display. It was utilitarian use of refrigerated space — a combination of steel trays filled with milky, chocolate balls soaked in spicy syrup, next to it, stacks of humble hand-​packed plastic boxes filled with whipped, sweetened clotted cream, hand-​shaped milk burfis with flecks of edible foil — the Indian version of fudge, but delectably spiced and scented with cardamom and sweetened milk, and at the bottom… fish. A whole fish marinating in masala spices staring back up at me. Utilitarian.
I was handed a cup of chai. It looked very unspectacular. Drab, in fact. Filled just over halfway, a deep caramel tan and a somewhat thin consistency. I glance over at my companion skeptically. He picks up a tin-​foil covered paan and a plate of savoury fritters from the counter and grins at me.
We had observed the old patriarch put together — a leaf, opens mystery bottles, dabs mystery pastes and sprinkles mystery coloured oddities over it before wrapping it up. It was an odd but fascinating thing to witness.
Outside, I took my first sip. The sharp, tannin whack of strong-​bodied, sweet tea hits me like a hurricane. A warm sensation fills my tummy and chest. That was some really good tea. Milky, creamy and strong notes of tannin from a slightly frothy tea.
I took a bite of the fritter, dipped in a red chutney. It was a generously sized chilli pepper fritter and the slightly sweet, savoury and sour flavours went very well together. It was mildly spiced, yet a little salty. An excellent companion to the tea.
However, I would not recommend the sweet items as the milk sweet I had was extremely hard to bite through and apparently, I am advised, the way the locals ‘around the region’ liked it.
Notwithstanding the odd hoot and tongue-​clicks of one or two individuals who can probably count on their fingers the number of times a real, live female specimen walked closer than 5 paces away from him, this place is a great place for good tea, solid tea snacks and if you’re into these things, hand-​rolled paans.
Some of the best places are dingy hole in the walls, and Playsure Island is another one of the local oddities which serve up some interesting fare with flair.
I’ll definitely be back with my trusty chaperone for the savoury snacks such as the chaats and bun kebabs.

Best Bun Kabobs! Hands down! Don’t go for the ambiance. Go for the bun kabobs, papri chaat and paan

Good doodh patti chai available here with paan, pakoras, gulab jamuns and other assorted Pakistani snacks. Pool tables also present for pool lovers.