So, the Velveteen Rabbit is dead.
After a decade of what I can only assume were the kind of memorable nights that you piece together the next morning from tagged photos and text message apologies, it’s gone. Just like that. The owner, Ashish Thadani, decided it was time to pull the plug. And in its place, we get Firo. A "sleek dining room" with a "competitive cocktail menu."
Give me a break. That’s the most soulless, PR-friendly description for a new restaurant I’ve ever heard. It sounds less like a place to have a good time and more like a line item on a private equity firm’s Q3 report. They call closing a popular spot a "brave decision." Brave? No, "brave" is telling your landlord to shove it. This is just business. It's the inevitable, depressing lifecycle of anything cool: it either dies a hero or lives long enough to see itself become a minimalist, over-designed brunch spot.
And offcourse, in this age of over-exposure where your dinner is critiqued on Instagram before you’ve even paid the bill, a "complete revamp" is the only way to grab attention. It’s a cynical, but probably correct, calculation.
The A-Team and Their 'Reimagined' Food
So, what’s the plan to make us forget the scruffy, beloved Rabbit? They’ve brought in a hired gun. A big one. Chef Ajit Bangera, the former executive chef of ITC Grand Chola, the guy behind the award-winning Avartana. He’s a legend. No, "legend" doesn't cover it—he's a system. A walking, talking system for delivering discipline, consistency, and award-winning luxury dining. He’s the guy you call when you want to make sure the food is technically perfect and the operation runs like a Swiss watch.
They’re calling the cuisine "Indian reimagined." Let’s be real, that’s just a clever way to say "fusion" without using the word that everyone started hating back in 2008. It’s a marketing term, plain and simple. Bangera says his style is "simple, creative, and with an element of surprise." That sounds nice, but what does it actually mean?
I’ll admit, the menu sounds… intriguing. A creamy yoghurt sorbet that’s supposed to be chaat. Prawn ceviche on potato straws. Dosa tacos filled with sous vide Goan pork. It’s the kind of food that’s practically engineered to be photographed. It’s clever. It’s playful. But can food that’s this meticulously thought-out, this designed, ever feel truly comforting? Can a kitchen run on military-grade discipline produce something with genuine soul?
The whole thing feels like a movie where a studio assembles a super-team of creatives to guarantee a blockbuster. You’ve got the veteran director (Bangera), the hot-shot protégé he poached from Bangkok (Abhishek Mody), and the quirky beverage expert (Tanya) making cocktails with blue pea flower syrup and paper butterflies. It’s a formula for success. But formulas don't create magic.
The Ghost in the Machine
I can just picture the scene. The high ceilings, the clean lines, the high-energy bar with smoke and drama. It’s the perfect backdrop for a modern dining experience. Jazz playing softly, soon to be drowned out by the cackles of the city’s elite. Firo launches in Chennai with a restaurant and cocktail bar even mentions ITC’s current chefs showing up to wish their old mentor good luck. It’s a company town, and this is the new company canteen.
This is the part that always gets me about these "revamps." They sand down all the rough edges, paint over the history, and replace the authentic character with a focus-grouped concept of what "cool" is supposed to look like this year. It's the architectural equivalent of putting an auto-tuned filter on a raw, emotional vocal track. Sure, it sounds more polished, but you’ve killed the very thing that made it special.
The food itself seems to follow this pattern. A palak ‘no paneer’ with wobbly burrata from cheesemaking monks. A 72-hour bone broth for the gosht Rampuri. It's all impressive. It's all a story. But then you get to the safed dal, which apparently "pales beside the oomph of a traditional dal makhani." And that’s the whole ballgame, isn't it? In the relentless pursuit of being new and inventive, sometimes you just invent something that isn't as good as the original. Maybe I'm just an old cynic, but I can't shake the feeling that this is what happens when food becomes a concept before it becomes a meal.
Will Firo be Chennai’s hottest new table? Probably. For a while. But I have to wonder, when the novelty wears off and the Instagrammers move on to the next sleek dining room, what will be left?
Progress or Just a Paint Job?
Look, Firo will likely be a massive success. The food sounds technically brilliant, the cocktails are photogenic, and the pedigree of the chefs is undeniable. It will get rave reviews and be booked solid for months. But let's not pretend it's anything more than what it is: a calculated business venture designed to replace something organic with something manufactured. It’s the story of every city in the world right now. We trade comfortable, lived-in character for sleek, sterile perfection. We kill the rabbit and mount a prettier, taxidermied version of it on the wall. It might look better, but it sure as hell ain't alive.
