Mood Cafe
4618 Baltimore Ave.
Philadelphia
Aug. 11, 2024
I was languishing in bed, blaming my low energy on lackluster weather, when my boyfriend pulled the covers off my lethargy: “It’s your blood sugar levels.”
Too tired to cook and too cheap to order in, we walked a few blocks west to better my blues through shocking our bodies with starchy snacks — a task easily accomplished with the help of Hasan Bukhari, who serves chaats of all kinds out of his West Philly test kitchen, “Mood Cafe.”
Faced with a menu so long as to list 14 different lassis — the restaurant formerly offered 140 different flavors of the classic Indian yogurt drink — I evaded decision fatigue by asking Bukhari to make me whatever he pleased.
To satisfy not only my hunger but my curiosity, I followed up with another question: Why call this place “Mood Cafe”?
The answer, the owner said, is because his state of mind predetermines the quality of cuisine funneled into customers’ stomachs. A good mood means good food. On this particular day, he declared, he would cook me up some “crazy chaat.”
Chaat, which Wikipedia defines as a “family of savory snacks that originated in India,” usually combines fried dough with a revolving cast of carby characters and tangy toppings — like potatoes or chickpeas and yogurt or tamarind sauce.
At Mood Cafe, Bukhari makes up his own mixes of crunchy garnishes the same way he makes up and remixes his ever-changing menu: Like a bipolar bartender splashing sips of secret syrups into otherwise classic drinks. It’s an award-winning formula … at least if I’m the one judging.
Inside the small cafe, you’re surrounded by bulk cans of garbanzo beans, containers of yogurt and stacks of spices. Bukhari burns incense before he begins cooking. And he answers any and all questions from across the counter while casually experimenting on your order in the kitchen.
During my visit, that system led to three plates piled high with paneer, chicken tikka, and samosas, all drenched in mint dip and cooling raita and sprinkled with turmeric, chili and lemon coated puffed rice. The “crazy chaat” included a heavily spiced bread — something like a deep fried dosa — that Bukhari whipped up on a whim, atop a blend of crisp vermicelli and corn flakes. Bukhari also made me a mango-papaya lassi, beautifully layered with fat ribbons of slushied super fruit. My boyfriend ordered almond-pistachio, which boasted chunks of pistachio nut evenly deposited throughout the drink, delivering gems of saltiness amid the sweet flavors of almond and cardamom.
Bukhari, who hails from Lahore, Pakistan, was a hospitality worker and bartender for years before he began a career in fine dining and restaurant development. He relocated to Philadelphia from New York after 9/11, where he has since opened several different Indian eateries. But Mood Cafe is where he spends his days: Taking orders, talking to customers, making homestyle meals, and testing out new recipes.
Since opening the orange-painted storefront 14 years ago, Bukhari has tried all kinds of shticks to keep customers coming. For a while he focused on squeezing fresh juices to order. He developed hundreds of different lassis, offering vegan options for every flavor. And he coined multicultural chaats, like “Greek Chaat” and “Sushi Chaat,” despite some subsequent 1‑star Yelp reviews from the “authenticity” police.
Bukhario even became the subject of one UPenn student’s anthropological examination of what “authentic” actually means. He maintains that authenticity is about ascertainable input. Other Indian restaurants, he said, stir some lamb into pre-cooked rice and call it biryani; but biryani is traditionally made by cooking rice in layers with its respective meat, he said, a lengthy process that doesn’t easily align with maximum profit margins. So what if he makes an oat milk lassi for the lactose intolerant college kid? If they order a rose lassi, they’ll receive a beverage flavored with paste that Bukhari handmade from his own garden flowers.
That’s how Bukhari sees it: “I’d love to have competition, but nobody can compete,” he said. “I always challenge people: Tell me you had a better lassi elsewhere and I’ll give it to you free of charge.”
Though the name of his restaurant infers that bad moods are just as much a part of life as good ones, Bukhari is so buoyant that it’s hard to picture him in low spirits. Whether or not the menu of ever-changing, cross-combination lassis — like the suspiciously green-smoothie-sounding “kale and cucumber” — is culturally “authentic,” Bukhari does imbue his food with a sincerity and sense of genuineness that transforms the usual bloating brought about by lactose into a punch-drunk kind of love. He offered me some free kheer on my way out the door, and I downed the condensed milk dessert without so much as a thought of down the road diarrhea.
I’m never certain what will be on the menu when I show up to Mood Cafe. But I know I always leave the restaurant with a new lease on life — and I owe thanks to Bukhari, and not just glucose, for that extra zest.
Mood Cafe is open from 12 to 9 p.m. seven days a week.
