I landed in Mumbai one October morning, my first time in the city. They often say that the first moments in a new city are laden with impressions and judgements. As a traveller, however, I was careful, and a little apprehensive, too. What could I say about Mumbai that had not already been said a hundred times, with the utmost love and passion? As I deliberated on this, I walked into yet another expression of that feeling: Fitour.
There is no large sign announcing its presence on the road. Instead, you find it tucked inside The House of Akina in Bandra. Described as one of the country’s first tasting-menu speakeasies, Fitour brings together the many journeys of Indian food and those of its creator, Chef Ashwin Singh. What follows is an 18-course exploration of familiar ingredients, culinary memories and the places that shape how we eat.
A Room Full Of Memories
With just 14 seats, Fitour feels intimate and considered. The space has the polish of a premium dining experience, but there is something familiar about it, too: pickle jars, masalas, paintings and old photographs arranged along what Singh calls the “Nostalgia Wall”. At the centre of the room are jars of cherry cheong, fruit preserves, nihari masala and other preparations that offer a glimpse into the kitchen’s workings. These are not merely decorative details. They hint at the memories, ingredients and experiments that inform the menu.
For Singh, the idea of Fitour goes back to childhood. “When I was 7, I told my mother, I want to have a restaurant of my own one day and name it Fitour – passionately cooked food that is well-travelled.” The name encapsulates his approach to cooking: a meal shaped by movement, experience and curiosity, rather than a single culinary tradition treated as a fixed category.
Food As A Window To A Story
Singh describes Fitour as a space for progressive Indian food. The phrase comes with its own set of challenges. Indian cuisine encompasses distinct regional traditions, ingredients and methods, and bringing them together risks flattening the differences that make each one meaningful. At Fitour, experimentation lies in the techniques, presentation and combinations, but the intention is not to force separate culinary traditions into a fusion simply for novelty.
“What is the flavour of India for me? It changes with every kilometre, as water and food taste different. So, using the big umbrella comes with the promise of staying true to the particular cuisine we are promising. If we are offering a Punjabi kadhi chawal, it will taste exactly like that. The dish needs to take you to that region, and here we do that through the food, which is but a window to a story.”
That sense of place is also shaped by movement. Food travels with people, as do ingredients, cooking techniques and memories of meals eaten elsewhere. At Fitour, these connections emerge through the combinations on the plate, which bring together Singh’s experiences of different cities without treating them as interchangeable. His cooking draws on the places where he has lived and worked, allowing personal recollections to meet wider histories of how food travels, adapts and becomes part of everyday life.
“The experiences I’ve gathered from the places I’ve lived and worked – Meerut, Bengaluru, Kolkata, Gurugram, Bangkok and now Mumbai – and the techniques I’ve learnt in different kitchens have all come together to shape Fitour.”
The result is less a catalogue of regional dishes than an attempt to understand what they can become when approached with knowledge of their origins.
Dining In Five Acts
I took my seat at the counter, where the entire dining experience unfolded in front of me. Each course arrived carefully plated and served, with a particular rhythm to the proceedings: taste the dish first, sit with its flavours, and then hear Singh explain the ingredients and the thought behind them. The changing light and music added another dimension, turning the meal into a theatrical experience that extended beyond taste.
“I want all the five different senses working together for guests here.”
It took me close to three hours to work my way through all 18 courses. The portions, sequence and pacing are carefully calibrated, so the number never becomes a test of endurance. Singh describes the meal as five acts and calls his dishes verses. The literary reference is more than a flourish. The experience asks you to pay attention, not simply to what is on your plate but also to the thought that brought it there.
Playing With The Familiar
Some of the most memorable moments came when a familiar preparation was given an unexpected form. Consider Fitour’s version of strawberry chaat. A combination of strawberries, yoghurt and sev crumble, it brings together sweet and tangy flavours in a dish that begins with a game. Before tasting, you are handed edible ink markers and invited to play tic-tac-toe. While you argue over a loss or settle for a draw, Singh steps in to explain how best to savour the chaat. It is a small intervention, but one that makes the diner an active participant in the experience.
I was equally enthralled by the use of flowers across several dishes. Ajwain and angoor, a sorbet featuring sparkling grapes and ajwain leaf, was a particular highlight. Cool and refreshing, it felt like a breath of air on a hot, busy day in Mumbai. But the pleasure lay as much in asking Singh why he had chosen those ingredients as in eating the dish itself. Each explanation opened up another way of looking at familiar Indian flavours, making the conversation an integral part of the meal. The same curiosity informed his interpretation of Bihar’s litti chokha.
Ingredients, Memories And Journeys
Would you imagine a dish inspired by the childhood Jim-Jam biscuit? Singh did. On the plate, whole-wheat and sattu cookies held little portions of litti, chokha and tomato chutney, bringing the flavours associated with Bihar into an entirely different format. The idea could easily have tipped into novelty for its own sake, but the execution held it together. It felt like a moment of culinary fancy that knew exactly when to stop.
The Shirvalya and Mango Mahura Rasam brought together several strands of Singh’s journey: coconut chutney from his Bengaluru days, mahua from his time in Kolkata, shrimp inspired by its use in Bangkok, and shirvalya, a Bombay favourite. The combination might sound like a simple summary, but it did not taste like one. It was my first time tasting these elements together, and I had to experience the dish to appreciate how well mahua and coconut could work together.
The Dessert That Tastes Like India
I would not give a catalogue of everything I tried, as that is a journey for you to undertake. But be assured that the afternoon rained crabs, rhododendron, ducks, green apple, snails, mogra, cocktails and what not. Just when I thought it could not get any more creative, the next dish proved me wrong. And how! Finally, how can an Indian food experience be complete without desserts? Singh brought an entire mithai shop into a bowl with burfi ice cream, mawa burfi, milk skin, gur caramel and kesar chocolate foam. The dish was called Mithai Shop, and it captured exactly how the shop smells when all the sweets are freshly made.
As I walked out of Fitour, the sun was nearing the horizon. I decided to head towards the sea. The India I had tasted throughout the afternoon was all around me, but I was now more conscious of the histories and personal journeys that contribute to the richness of our shared food cultures. At a time when conversations around food increasingly turn towards hyperlocality and virality, Fitour offered a reminder that the local is rarely isolated from the wider world. Its version of India was clever, conscious and intimately connected.
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