Don’t Tell Aunty — Restaurant in Boston

I was looking forward to DTA since they started publicizing. High quality Indian food in Boston proper is rare and an innovative take is even rarer. Finally got to try this restaurant and I was beyond disappointed with the overall experience.

The first thing the host told us during check in is there's a 90 minute limit. We were a large party (6+) and despite this we got no concession from the rule. Now, I'm very familiar with restaurants that have such limits. But generally that's restaurants that are AYCE style or heavy eating focused - e.g., shabu shabu, hot pot, bbq etc. Having this limit for a "gastro pub" on a weekend where people a large group is there to relax, is bit jarring. My bigger issue was the attitude with which this was communicated to us, not one, but three times. The tone was condescending. We checked in at an earlier hour in the evening, the seats were barely filled when we entered and we even found reservations available an hour from us being seated. Why the rush? And what's the deal with egging us on when we're literally paying the check. One of our party members who was late because of weather, still had an hour to spare but was so freaked out they just ordered take out.

I wish the food was redeeming. Mediocre is an overstatement for the drinks. The Durga complex tasted like syrup and liquor. No complexity. The tamarind one was basically the same. The mocktails were not fun either. For starters we went safe - okra fries, tater tots, hummus, kale, and house chips. One of my favorites at new age Indian spots is okra fries --- the one at DTA is a skip. The house chips was another simple humble order that completely missed. The tots with chaat dressing were probably the best of the set but still nothing to remember. The mains included kerela fried chicken, kuthu Bolognese, keema biryani, banana leaf fish, and the paneer curry. The chicken was tough and overcooked and the paneer curry barely had any paneer in it. The others were forgettable. I think the best thing I ate was the side of fries we got with the chicken. Yes, the side that wasn't even on the menu.

Lastly the dessert. We had fingers crossed that ending redeems everything. We got the chia oats payasam, the mango lassi cheesecake, and several gulab jamun sundaes. Payasams and kheers are simple straightforward puddings. The one at DTA had the consistency of cereal milk. Rather go home and eat overnight oats than this. The cheesecake was one of the worst cheesecakes I've ever eaten - the mango layer in top was sour and the cheesecake was thick as a brick. And now, the gulab jamun and vanilla ice cream, which is an age old combination. You can't go wrong. So we thought. That dish was so sweet we could barely get through. The point is to balance the textures and sweetness of the gulab jamun with simple smoothness of vanilla ice cream. Nope, we have oodles of syrup over it to make everything even sweeter than the jamun itself. Disaster.

The desserts describes to me everything wrong with this place. Indulgent and stylish on the surface but thoughtless and clumsy in its execution. I would have minced words if the service would have been equally accommodating. Don't tell aunty about this place because she probably hosts better times any...

A Case Study in Squandered Potential

When a restaurant promises "Indian gastropub," one expects the warmth of subcontinental hospitality married to the conviviality of a proper pub. Don't Tell Aunty delivers neither.

Six months after an exceptional meal at Tamil Prince Pub in London, I approached Don't Tell Aunty—Boston's newest Indian gastropub—with considerable anticipation. The concept held genuine promise.

A young woman stationed outside inquires whether you prefer a table or bar seating. Opting for the bar, I received a menu and instructions to "go inside and help yourself." For an establishment's crucial first touchpoint, this felt oddly impersonal—a missed opportunity to properly welcome guests and set expectations.

The moment you enter, pounding house music assaults your senses. This is clearly designed for the Instagram generation: flashy, loud, and optimized for social media rather than conversation or dining pleasure.

The bartender—an engaging young man who competently managed both the music and four overhead televisions—inadvertently illustrated the restaurant's identity crisis. One screen displayed Fox News, another Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares, while two featured Bollywood dance videos. This eclectic mix perfectly captures the establishment's fundamental confusion: Is this an authentic Indian gastropub or merely a hodgepodge of trending elements?

Initially engaging, he soon demonstrated a masterclass in how not to tend bar. Twenty minutes for okra fries. Fifty-eight minutes for the main course. Multiple attempts to order a simple Kingfisher beer, repeatedly thwarted by his devotion to his mobile phone.

The okra fries succeeded by not failing—difficult to ruin fried vegetables. The lamb vindaloo, however, confused rather than delighted. Red wine vinegar in vindaloo? Innovation requires understanding tradition first. The Malabar paratha arrived hard rather than flaky—a fundamental failure of execution. The basmati rice was exemplary. In a meal costing $87, one exceptional element feels rather miserly.

"There's no manager," came the response when I requested to speak with one. Suddenly, everything made sense. A restaurant without leadership is like a ship without a captain—destined to drift.

Don't Tell Aunty possesses all the ingredients for success: prime location, ambitious concept, eager staff. Yet it serves up confusion where it should deliver clarity, noise where it should offer atmosphere, and indifference where it should provide hospitality.

The potential is undeniable. The execution is unforgivable.

All for $87.00 plus tip

Visit if you must post something colorful on social media. Avoid if you seek good food, attentive service, or value for money.

A word to the ownership: Hire a professional manager immediately. Your concept deserves better than its...

Don't Tell Aunty has the potential to be great, but just misses the mark.

Their biggest issue was self inflicted. They created such a huge hype around this restaurant opening with social media hype that you walk into the location expecting an incredible experience and they aren't ready to live up to that.

Our interaction with this restaurant started a week or so prior to even eating there. We had walked past the location to see some people waiting outside. We were curious as we hadn't realized they opened. To our surprise we found out that multiple people had reservations to the restaurant, but the restaurant wasn't even officially open. That is a big issue, and if I were those diners I would have been pretty upset.

Coming to our actual experience. When we walked in on a weekday night, the restaurant was maybe 25% occupied. The hostess gave us a table at the entrance of the restaurant. However, we requested to be moved a little further in. The hostess was hesitant as she didn't want to give us that table and claimed it was reserved, however, we also had a reservation and it makes no sense that since it was unoccupied that we couldn't have that table instead of a table by the door.

Then the service itself. There was only 1 server that knew how to take orders. The manager, who was extremely nice, tried to help us, but even she was having trouble using the order device. The restaurant was arguably overstaffed with busboys and ancillary staff, but only 1 server that actually could take orders.

On to the food. We got the Kale Chaat and Chaa'tar Tots. We understand that these are similar esq items, however, we didn't expect them to be almost the exact same with the only difference being one had a base of kale and the other had a base of tater tots.

We then ordered the paneer dish (auntyjis paneer). We knew the paneer was grated into the dish, but this was a little obscene. We could barely tell how much paneer there actual was as the grating was so fine that we basically felt like we were eating just the sauce. A smart way to skimp out on actual substance to the dish.

Kerala Fried Chicken Sandwich was actually very good, but this was a pretty standard item. You could have gotten this at chick fil a and not have known this had any indian seasoning to it.

We didn't have any cocktails, but we were watching the bartenders mix drinks. It was very clear by how they were measuring, shaking, and putting together drinks that they were extremely inexperienced. We therefore just stuck to having indian beer.

I want these guys to succeed because it would be nice to have an indian gastropub in the city that is actually good. But right now this place is overhyped, overpriced, and massively underdelievers.

In its current iteration, it...