This Garden Restaurant Hidden in Kathmandu’s Alley

Candles Stretch Shadows Long, Even the Steak’s Toughness Feels Gentle Wandering Thamel till my legs ached, a photo of this restaurant popped up on my phone: a table under a vine trellis with a white candle, its light flickering through a glass onto greenery, captioned “Kathmandu’s most atmospheric secret garden.” In that moment, I didn’t care if the food was good—I just wanted to sit among those candles. So I dragged my friend into an alley that even the map “got lost” in. 🕯️ From “frantic searching” to “gasps of awe”: a surprise behind Chinese Restaurant tagged the location at a museum. We circled the alley three times with the map, not even a hint of a garden. Finally, we burst into a Nepali restaurant to ask for directions. A waiter in a plaid shirt, seeing we were about to faint from heat, simply took off his apron: “Follow me.” Following him past the back door of “Chinese Restaurant,” we suddenly an iron gate covered in green ivy. Pushing it open, warm candlelight hit us: star lights hung from the trellis, wooden tables covered in checkered cloths, each with a white candle—flames gently swayed in the wind, casting people’s shadows on the brick wall like a moving painting. The owner said the garden was left by his grandfather: “It used to be full of roses; now it’s a restaurant. I chose thick candles on purpose—they burn all night without tilting.” 🥩 The steak was tough as grass, but the sides held little joys Settling in, we ordered the signature “garden steak” and cheesy pasta. When the steak arrived, candlelight fell just right on the meat—it was a decent size, but water buffalo meat; cutting into it felt lifeless, and chewing was like wrestling with highland wind. But the sides were a nice surprise: potato chunks fried to crispy edges, fluffy inside; bacon curled into little horns, its oiliness mixed with charcoal; broccoli and cabbage blanched to crunch, drizzled with lemon juice, tangy and fresh. My friend speared a potato: “These aren’t sides—they’re the ‘steak rescue package.’” The cheesy pasta was more of an accident: a thick coat of cheese clung to the noodles, looking rich, but the first bite froze me—it had no salt, like chewing “pure cheese dough.” Calling the owner for black pepper sauce, he scratched his head: “Only pepper salt.” After sprinkling half a jar, it was barely edible, but this salty-food lover still preferred the bacon from the sides. 🎤 Candles and karaoke: no one laughs if you sing off-key Mid-meal, the opening notes of a Chinese ballad suddenly rang out—turns out there’s a karaoke machine in the corner. Two Nepali uncles held mics, belting out lyrics with such passion, candlelight softened their profiles. Later we learned the karaoke is “free for anyone,” and the owner said, “Guest happiness matters more than good food.” We picked a song, singing so off-key the candles on the next table flickered. My friend laughed till she slapped the table, candle wax dripping on the tablecloth, 晕成 (blotting into) small yellow circles. In that moment, it didn’t matter if the steak was tough or the pasta bland—after all, sitting in a ivy-covered garden in Kathmandu, singing off-key by candlelight, is a crazy, beautiful thing. 📍 Can’t find it? Remember this: Navigate to “Chinese Restaurant” first, find its back door; Look diagonally across from the back door—there’s an ivy-covered iron gate. Push it, and you’re there (ignore Xiaohongshu’s museum tags!). At 800 NPR per person (≈40 RMB), the steak isn’t great, but the candlelight, garden breeze, and that helpful waiter made it Kathmandu’s most memorable “ambiance meal.” Leaving, the candles still burned, flames licking the wicks, as if saying “come back tomorrow.” I patted my stomach: even just to sit among those candles again? Worth it. #HiddenGemRestaurant #AmbianceRestaurant #OutdoorGardenRestaurant #Nepal #Kathmandu #KathmanduFood #KathmanduSteak