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“We had a waitlist of 500 people today,” says Payel Sharma, half of the husband-and-wife ownership duo of Indian gastro-pub Baar Baar. Despite the waitlist, and that Baar Baar means “again and again,” Baar Baar is closing, just as fall is beginning here in New York City. The hotspot opened on East 1st in 2017 and has since become famous for its Sunday Bollywood brunches. Today is the last of these special Sundays. For the Sharma’s, who have dressed for the occasion in funeral chic, a black midi length bodycon dress and tailored suit, “it is very sad. It’s emotional. Baar Baar was our baby.”
A funeral can’t stop the party here though. The spacious restaurant is full, from the dining room to the lounge to the patio, where there is a henna station. Back inside, there’s an appetizer station where puff pastries in the shape of tiny UFOs are being served, alongside a passionfruit syrup to be dispensed into the UFOs by gold spigot. The bunchers are otherwise enjoying the menu à la carte at their respective reserved tables – until the afternoon, when the black blinds are drawn at half-mast and a few tables near the host stand, which divides the dining room and the lounge, are cleared.
“If you’re happy you should be dancing,” Bollywood singer Kunal Lamba (or singingchefkunal on Instagram) cries into the microphone. He launches into a song in Hindi that the crowd seems to know well. The newly empty space at the front quickly fills with diners, dancing and clapping and singing along.
“It’s been five years that I’ve been doing the brunches. They’re like family here,” says Lamba, during a break in his performing duties. Family and launchpad: Lamba’s career took off after he started performing at Baar Baar. The exposure led him to be hired for weddings in places as far away as India. A couple of other now solvent singers that regularly performed on Sundays at Baar Baar have returned to honor the restaurant and make up the rest of the afternoon’s line up.
Before there was Baar Baar, not only were there no Bollywood brunch, but there was no modern Indian dining in the city, according to Sharma. Americans? “They're clueless. Totally. Indian food is very complex… but it felt like over here Americans were not aware of all the spices and all the wonderful food that India had to offer. They just knew one thing, which was curry.”
Despite this mission, everyone in attendance at the final brunch appears to be in the desi community. Mostly twenty and thirty somethings with some elders peppered in. At around 2pm, once the party is well underway, a group of legs on heels roll in, designer bags in hand.
Homogeneity aside, the youthfulness of the crowd is something of a mission accomplished for Sharma and her husband, Rajiv Sharma, who wanted their kids to be proud of their culture. In other words, they wanted to make Indian food cool. And so they sought out Chef Sujan Sarka. “It’s all about plating, because he always says, you eat with your eyes. Then you taste. His tagline was I'm gonna make Indian food sexy. Which he did, because every dish at Baar Baar was Instagramable. It became very viral on Instagram.” At the time of closing, Baar Baar has 74.8K followers on Instagram. Lamba has 55.5K.
Also Instagrammable is the restaurant itself. Past the bar, on the way to the nightclub-coded restrooms, there’s a massive mural of a bewitching, bejeweled Indian woman. This imposing art, by Jessica Kollar, has served as the dramatic backdrop for many a post since 2018.
The colors of the mural reflect the colors of the restaurant: a slew jewel-tone blues and purples and greens, with gaudy golden oranges and pinks. When Sharma was shopping for a rental space, she estimates she looked at 60-70 locations. “And then we came to this. As soon as I walked in, I'm like, oh, this is it. This is it. It felt like it looked like Baar Baar. And I had a vision. They always say manifest, if you visualize something.”
So why are the owners of this packed restaurant, with its waitlist and its followers, leaving their manifested dream space? For the most obvious and relatable reason in New York City, of course: “the landlords are raising the rent too much… and our rent was already pretty high to begin with.”
This wasn’t the first time the operating costs seemed too steep to overcome. Baar Baar had previously survived COVID by selling $8 margaritas for takeaway. “People wanna support and people wanna be in the community and get outside,” Payel explains. “The staff, I retained all the staff before COVID to after COVID, they all came back. They all loved working here, so it was so important for me that I keep them and hopefully they will come and join me wherever we go next too.” Indeed, all the staff working on this terminal Sunday rave about Baar Baar, the owners, and their colleagues. One of the hosts is even there on a volunteer basis, just to bid adieu.
“I think you should know what is the right time to exit,” says Sharma with a head wobble, “But the restaurant business is literally in my blood. We can’t imagine doing anything else.”
The isn't the Sharma’s only restaurant: there’s another Baar Baar in LA, and a few other restaurants in Chicago, also in partnership with Chef Su.
“So we have those places. And then of course,” Sharma tosses her sleek highlighted honey brown hair over her shoulder, “something new will be in the works in New York as well.” This is the second time she alludes to starting again in the city but she won’t say where or when. She says they’ll announce on Instagram, when the time is right.