Delhi's Best Food Is Tucked Into Its Smallest Kitchens & Hidden in Plain Sight
The first time I walked into Zuru Zuru, I wasn’t convinced. Why would anyone come to Delhi’s Shahpur Jat market for this standalone restaurant? The climb up a narrow staircase felt uninviting, the spot so easy to miss you’d think it was meant to be a secret. Inside, the idea of squeezing into a communal table with strangers instantly triggered the introvert in me. I like quiet corners, not conversations. I like two-seater tables that feel like safe havens, not benches that force small talk.
But then came the ramen, gyozas and yakitori — simple, soulful, and comforting. It didn’t feel like “bahar ka khana”. It felt like someone had decided to share the best-kept secrets of their recipes with me. The awkwardness of communal seating melted away with each slurp. Slowly, Zuru Zuru went from “I don’t know if I’ll come back here” to “this is one of my favorite spots in Delhi.”
And that’s the thing about these XS (extra small) eateries and micro-restaurants. They don’t try too hard to charm you yet they end up being the spaces you crave on the most ordinary days.
Across the city, a wave of micro-restaurants is quietly redefining Delhi’s food culture. These aren’t the sprawling, 100-cover establishments with dramatic interiors and menus the size of a novella, covering everything from pastas and noodles, to tacos and butter chicken. They are small, focused, and fiercely personal — a handful of seats, a handful of dishes, and an intimacy that makes dining feel less like ‘going out’ and more like being invited into someone’s home.
Delhi is no stranger to dining in small spaces. A true Dilliwala knows that some of the best memories are often made over a car-o-bar session with your friends at night, where you pair your poison with piping hot kebabs, tikkas and rolls. A true Dilliwala will also know all the small nukkadwale shops for the best sweets and snacks in their neighbourhood, because if there’s one thing Delhi knows, it’s where to have a good meal.
Micro-restaurants aren’t new to the city either. Places like Little Saigon and H-Man have been around for almost a decade and people continue to travel across the city and wait patiently — be it for a comforting bowl of Vietnamese Pho or a hearty barbeque spread.
This recent shift towards small dining spaces reveals Delhi’s deep hunger for authenticity. In a city where dining out often doubles as a social flex — Instagram reels, valet parking, dramatic cocktails — these small spaces offer a sense of being grounded in an intimate space.
At the newly opened sandwich shop, Kona, in Greater Kailash, intimacy is the whole point. Chef Radhika Khandelwal explains, “A tiny space forces precision, care, and intention in everything — from the menu to the interactions. It feels intimate and tactile, almost like sitting at a friend’s kitchen counter,” and adds, “I hope Kona makes people rethink scale and intimacy. Dining does not always need to mean large plates or large rooms. It can be four seats, a bold identity, and big flavours.”
The philosophy here is simple — fewer choices, better experiences. Unlike large restaurants that must appeal to every palate, micro-restaurants can afford to be niche, whether that’s through Kona’s emphasis on slowing down, or Zuru Zuru’s dedication to Japanese soul food in an intimate diner setting.
Navika Kapoor, the co-founder of Zuru Zuru always wanted to have a live ramen bar, which went perfectly with the compact space she found to open her first restaurant, a few years ago. Along with her co-founder Hiten, she removed the separate tables and added one long communal table. “We wanted it to feel like you're dining in someone's living room, being served with warmth and love, a place where you can feel seen and be fed good food,” says Navika.
Another defining feature of these micro-restaurants is the radical simplicity of their menus. No 20-page encyclopedias of ‘something for everyone’. Instead, Zuru Zuru perfects its bowls. Kona focuses on Japanese-style sandos. Garnitas in Lodhi Colony keeps tacos and Mexican street food at the center. And Rude Chef in Humayunpur specialises in seafood platters.
Chef Radhika shares, “For me, food has always been about curiosity, whether it is ferments, foraging, forgotten ingredients, or playful reinterpretations. At Kona, that comes through in Asian-inspired sandos layered with house-made pickles and ferments, a sharp, small-format coffee program, and menus that evolve with drops and specials.”
The reason Zuru Zuru has become a personal favourite is because I don’t face decision paralysis when I open their menu. They do a select few dishes, and they do it bloody well. “We have some things people know, yes, but with a small menu we are able to make them try some newer things as well and we are proud of that,” says Navika.
XS eateries strip away the noise, so diners can have a more personalised experience. Nandita Shamlal, chef and owner at Garnitas sums it up perfectly, “Most of us are done with soulless establishments with the same décor and the same menu. We’re ready for more character and good food with better music to go with it.”
Like the younger generation, Delhi is done with restaurants that try to be people-pleasers. If you’re obsessed with a dish, Delhiites want to feel that maniacal vibe with you in a space that exudes this crazy energy. They are ready to drown themselves in a restaurant that knows what it’s doing.
Of course, running a small restaurant isn't without challenges. For Wunganing Raikhan, co-owner of Humayunpur’s Rude Chef, the biggest challenge is “balancing affordability with quality. Rents are lower than in big markets, but customers expect top-notch food and service, so we have to be extra creative in how we run things.”
However, chefs and owners of small eateries in Delhi unanimously agree on one thing — the trade-off is worth it.
Garnitas in Lodhi Colony’s glamorous Meherchand Market can barely fit 10-15 people, but Nandita wouldn’t have it any other way.
Her favourite part of it all? “There’s nothing to hide! With my kitchen being partially open, I wanted people to see the human side of the industry and vice versa. We’ve all become spoiled with getting everything within 10 minutes and at the click of a button, so the human interactions are further reduced. Micro-restaurants offer the opportunity to give a more personalized experience,” she shares excitedly.
“Micro-restaurants like Kona are part of that conversation,” adds Radhika, “asking what it means to eat in Delhi today and how small a place can be while still leaving a big impression.”
The same intimacy that creates logistical headaches also forges loyalty. Customers don’t just remember the food. They remember the experience of being seen, spoken to, and cooked for directly.
For decades, Delhi’s food scene has been defined by scale — big dining rooms, big menus, big parties. Eating out was about occasion, not everyday comfort. But micro-restaurants flip that logic. They normalize the idea that eating out can be casual, intimate, even meditative. They emphasize ritual over spectacle.
And Delhi seems ready. The same city that built its reputation on big family banquets and loud brunches, with menus that are too eager to bring the whole world to your plate, is now ready for something new. It's embracing places where 12 seats are enough, where a single dish can carry an entire menu, where anonymity isn’t possible — because the chef will probably come talk to you at some point.
The obvious question is whether this is a trend or a transition. After all, micro-restaurants often thrive on novelty — the thrill of 'discovering' something hidden. Once they’re widely known, do they lose their edge?
The chefs I spoke to are optimistic. Radhika believes such dining spaces are shifting Delhi’s food culture “from maximalist dining to something more considered, personal, and experience-driven.” She adds, “It feels intimate and tactile, almost like sitting at a friend’s kitchen counter. It is less about spectacle and more about flavour, conversation, and connection.”
Wunganing Raikhan can also feel this cultural shift: “I’ve noticed more chefs opening their own small restaurants, and that movement is pushing food to evolve in exciting new directions.”
Delhiites are willing to go the extra mile for good food. As Navika puts it, “We have garnered a really lovely community that travels for us, that lifts us up, that showers us with love, that forgives our little shortcomings, and propels us forward because they believe in the passion we bring to our craft.”
For me, that intimacy is why I find myself climbing those Shahpur Jat stairs again and again. Not just for the ramen, but for the reminder that food doesn’t need grandeur to be memorable. Sometimes, the best meals aren’t announced by neon signs or triple-height ceilings. They’re tucked away in 10-by-10 kitchens, hidden in plain sight, waiting for you to stumble in — hesitant, unsure, and ready to be surprised.