In conversation with founder and Head chef, Needa Khan
There was a quiet hum of people’s conversations in the background on the day I entered the café for my chat with Needa Khan. It was the kind of warmth that had nothing to do with the yellow lights strung overhead, or the cozy decal of a bookshelf that almost felt like a hug to anyone who revels in the comfort of a library. Instead, it was a feeling brought to life by the smell of cinnamon, like a wafting wave of promises that tasted as sweet as they smelled. I glanced into the windows in wonder at a place that not only looked like it was straight out of a storybook but also felt like it. That, to begin with, is one of the primary triumphs of a place like Chantilly: its ability to create a welcoming warmth (one that doesn’t stop just at human patrons, but also extends to Audacity the Cat, Disco & Cocoa the Dogs, and other friendly neighborhood strays) while standing the test of time. In an age of once-successful businesses turning into cloud kitchens and eateries that change like trends, Chantilly celebrates its eighth year in 2025, making it the place that did something right. It now proudly stands as a landmark in Bombay’s confectionary scene with its newest presence standing next to it in the form of ‘Chantilly The Workshop’— the place where Needa’s most delicious experiments find their home. This conversation with the founder and head chef Needa Khan, riddled with anecdotes, gives a fun behind-the-scenes peek into Bandra’s favorite dessert spot, as we learn about what has kept it going today.
As I asked Needa about the origin of the place so many have come to love, she delved into an anecdote about one of the first things she learnt to make that went on to give the cafe its name: crème chantilly. A simple and elegant accompaniment to most desserts, Needa said that it symbolized nostalgia classically. This also formed the ethos for what she envisioned Chantilly to be: a place of indulgence and comfort. One where you could leave the frills at home, and show up to tuck into a warm plate that catered not just to one’s refined dessert sensibilities, but the craving of the inner fat child who simply loved cake. Inclined to pastry arts from the very beginning, she shares that her catalyst for creativity came from two main sources: the experiences of her childhood, and the places she’s traveled to as an adult.
What started with a hankering for a waffle she’d eaten in New York City and sorely missed upon her return, turned into an exercise in recreating it as closely as possible. Multiple batches of trial-and-error later, she succeeded, only to be filled with a resounding need to share what she’d made.
Thus began the solidification of her plan to “put those recipes out there.” Needa explains the gap she identified in the market, where so often, there lacked a go-to spot for simple desserts.
One would have to hunt for a good slice of chocolate cake outside of acclaimed restaurants or pastry chains. If one were to order from a home-baker, preordering in large quantities would be an unspoken rule. There existed a gap for an authentic fermented waffle, or a decadent cheesecake that was easily accessible. Additionally, the taste and quality of certain desserts at larger chains were sacrificed for the sake of serving eggless renditions. This realization formed the cornerstone for everything that flies out of Chantilly’s kitchen today: they must pass her litmus test, which is informed by the knowledge of each confection’s authentic flavor. Every item on the menu, especially if eggless, is served only once it meets the exacting standards she sets for it (a commendable feat for someone whose clientele comprises a population subscribing to varying degrees of vegetarianism).
Recalling her childhood memories of family dinners concluding at Dollops (an ice cream spot in Bandra held close to many 90s kids’ hearts), Needa unabashedly lets the comfort of nostalgia percolate into Chantilly’s menu.
Doing away with what she amusedly referred to as the “froufrou presentation,” she prioritized the feelings of coziness and “core memories” her desserts could induce.
“If I’m sitting at home, it’s rare to crave the fancy seven-layered nitrogen-frozen dessert,” she explains. “Most of the time you just want the simple yummy stuff.”
And the simple, yummy stuff she delivers. From slices of baked cheesecakes and waffles that have made their way to many an Instagram story, to the crowd’s favorite chocolate chip cookies, which became a menu regular after the anecdote detailed later in this interview.
Needa had started Chantilly as a hole-in-the-wall joint not too far from where it is now.
When asked about the early days, she went on to tell me just how much of starting was synonymous with listening to your instincts, even when it went against popular advice, the most frequent one being “serve something [savory] along with the desserts.” However, she stood resolute even in the face of Mumbai’s reputation for hospitality and F&B places being fly-by-the-night. A reputation so notorious that her electrician, when asked to place ‘good quality’ (read: expensive) wiring, asked her in Hindi, “You’ll leave in a year. What’s the point?” attempting to look out for Needa and her wallet.
Upon her insistence, he placed the ‘good’ wiring anyway, continuing to tend to it over the next four years that Chantilly thrived. Which begged the question— what did this café do differently, against the backdrop of ever-changing storefronts in a bustling Bandra?
In answer, Needa credits one major principle: prioritizing quality. Admitting to being one of checklists and a smidge of healthy paranoia, the chef’s guiding rule has been to taste everything, and ensure things are made fresh every day.
Her commitment to a lack of recycling of baked goods has led to the anomalous ‘no-cakes-on-display’ rule seemingly signature to most patisseries. Each item is assembled to order, and this has sometimes even led to her losing business over the time it takes to serve these items.
She sums this up this with, “I’m okay bearing the cost [of perishables], but not giving them to guests.” However, most “guests” as Needa calls them throughout our chat, not ‘clients’, seem to understand and appreciate this practice, turning into regulars. And while the interesting semantics of her parlance give us a window into the values she runs Chantilly with, it is not lost on me that this exact sentiment is what keeps faces familiar around the café.
Acknowledging this sense of community that the café has built around itself, Needa tells me how passionate they are about her recipes. Narrating an incident of the time she was experimenting with a pistachio menu, she smilingly recalls how there were guests who offered to pick up ingredients for her on trips they took. This anticipation for her experimental menu comes from Needa being like an enthusiastic sibling, whipping together ingredients with excitement, telling her found family, “This is what I’m trying to create. Tell me how it is.”
And they do, by showing up in throngs that she still cannot believe have gathered for the food she makes. Large-hearted and enveloping, Needa’s spirit of sharing her creations is also clearly a performative display of her nature, making Chantilly, in yet another way, almost an extension of herself.
She drives this point home this by telling me how another one of the café’s decadent staples came to be. It was a few months after they opened, when a child not more than 12 years of age wandered in, asking for hot chocolate– an item heretofore absent from the menu. After being told that they did not, in fact, serve hot chocolate, the boy went on to wield politeness in his request, which had Needa reconsider her refusal. “I said to myself, you’re a chef, not just someone standing at a counter,” she tells me. “If the kid wants it, and you’re standing free, just make it!” And so, through a soft heart and the luck of having ingredients on hand, was served Chantilly’s first-ever hot chocolate. One that caused the young boy to come back the next day with two friends, and many more after him, till Needa was forced to give it its own place on the system (instead of just punching it in as ‘coffee’, as she had been).
At my expression of awe, she admits to me that many of the dishes on the menu have come up just like this, making people just as influential in the café’s story as it is in their celebrations. From guests in neighboring cities whose cars go back with loaded trunks, to those coming from distant countries with Chantilly specially carved into their Bombay itinerary— people’s reactions to her food made Needa do ‘trials’, and eventually hone the menu we know and eat from today.
A lot of this can be ascribed to Needa’s insistence on a personal touch, which has supplemented Chantilly’s resilience through chaotic moments while its visitors have been none the wiser. Over the seven years that Chantilly has been around, there have been a myriad of people whose celebrations and milestones have been punctuated by its food, like one of her returning guests whom the café has seen through stages of getting married, pregnancy, and eventually, coming in with her newborn. When asked about a crowd-favorite that surprised her, she confesses to it being Chantilly’s famous cookies.
Even though it is one of her bestsellers, when Needa started it, no one was doing a chunky molten chocolate cookie. Patrons would avoid it altogether, assuming it to be the biscuit-style, crispy Indian version known to accompany chai. Eventually, she started doing trials, offering it to regulars. One such guest took the trial batch home only to call her back with a rave review, ordering 40 of them. “In today’s terms, [a small order like that is] nothing. But at that time, I was so happy… I couldn’t believe he wanted 40 of them!” Needa laughs.
A testament to its adoration by people is Chantilly’s Christmastime rush. The first Christmas at their old branch had people forming a line that stretched the length of the block, much to Needa’s surprise. “I used to wonder where all of these people [are] coming from!” smiled the chef with a glint of gratitude. Since its beginning, Christmastime has been a special but packed period for them. “I’m here at opening time, I’m here at closing time,” she tells me, describing the frenzy.
From the cutely adorned tree that has become a staple at Chantilly over the years, to little holiday tree-lighting traditions with her staff, December is truly celebrated here. Needa even buys Christmas ornaments from the places she travels to, leading to some guests requesting for the tree to be up well into January, under the pretext of not getting a chance to take pictures with it because of how crowded the cafe gets. And if the festive ambience in an otherwise celebratory Bandra was not the clincher, the viral strawberries and chocolate surely did the trick to lure people from far and wide to sample the limited edition menu.
This also makes Needa seem effortless in balancing being a chef while staying a businesswoman. Explaining her process, she says that she does a daily menu, preorder menu, and limited edition menus for a fortnight or longer to try out new things and satiate her creativity; the compromise is that she doesn’t get to do it as often as she likes. This also leads to printing new menus every month, because of how many things make their way to the regular menu thanks to guest requests! (For the readers with a sudden interview-induced hankering for dessert, one such favorite that the chef recommends is Autumn Day.) And while the menu’s contents have become a little more flexible, their manner of presentation remains as strict as ever.
“As a child, the way something was served made a difference to me,” Needa confesses, divulging that she still can’t eat cold cake out of the fridge. It needs to be warmed. But at the same time, Needa adopts a more laissez-faire, grace-forward approach to the places she dines at, with a level of compassion that can only be expected from someone who has been in the back of the house. “I don’t judge restaurants by my first experience of it,” she says. “Suppose someone tells me it’s a good restaurant, but I go there and I have a bad experience, I assume that I went in on a bad day. I don’t write them off so easily… Everybody isn’t a 100% every day.”
In doing so during the time of comment-section bashing, she shows the sheer impact a well-intentioned guest can have on a place they patronize.
This unpretentious attitude also seeps its way into Chantilly’s aesthetic sensibility. Rustic and wholesome as the creations it houses, the place is filled with little easter eggs from Needa’s life, travels, and adventures. “I just own so much of this stuff. And instead of keeping it at home where only I can look at it, I brought it here,” she tells me, as we look into the café from the outside, catching glimpses of the dream catcher her sister made, the ‘Cupboard Under The Stairs’ sign given by a friend (that often gets Chantilly mistaken for a Harry-Potter-themed café), and a picture of Jimmy the Cat, made by a guest, all of which hold more meaning than visual value. In making it a place to ‘dig-in and be comfortable,’ she makes Chantilly’s appearance a reflection of the wholesome food it serves.
It is in this respect that she also successfully takes a page out of Dominique Ansel’s book (one she highly recommends to bakers and eaters alike), and opens herself to the idea of wandering off the beaten track. This dedication to following one’s gut is precisely her advice to all those just starting out on their professional journeys. “If I’m giving advice to a chef, it’ll be to do what your gut says and do what you feel will work… you can’t please everybody. Because taste is so subjective.” She embodies this in her own work too. “I’m doing this,” Needa explains, “because I like doing it and it makes me happy. People liking it is a very happy bonus.”
And her love for her art comes through in our conversation. She mentions the lessons from a bread-making course she undertook, (for those of us who didn’t know, all breads at Chantilly are baked in-house), and the chemistry behind baking being fascinating. “[It] mixes art, science, and tastes good,” she laughingly summarizes. Needa’s fondness for learning extended to her undertaking a Master’s in English Literature during the pandemic, while the rest of the world was working on their banana bread recipes. So it was no surprise to me that when she was asked the three people dead, alive, or fictional that she’d love to have visit Chantilly, her answer was Anthony Bourdain, Professor Minerva McGonagall (of Harry Potter fame), and Count Dracula. And while one can only wonder what Mr. Bourdain and the Count would order, the Potterheads reading this can rejoice in the knowledge that Professor McGonagall would feel right at home with Chantilly’s year-round service of Butterbeer to its guests. Speaking to inclusivity beyond fictional dishes, Needa addresses the section of her menu that’s keto and gluten-free for her guests with nutritional limitations with one simple proclamation: “There will always be room for dessert.” A statement that rings true for anyone with a sweet tooth.
When asked why someone should read her interview, Needa replied, “Chantilly is a reflection of my personality… If I were a reader or someone who liked Chantilly, I’d want to know what makes it what it is. The simple things that make it, and the layers of personality behind it.”
None of what Needa does with Chantilly arises from a place of ambition or an incisive need to be ‘the best’ in her field. Instead, it is built as a reflection of the journey, dreams, and personality of its creator. From the comforting desserts that draw inspiration from childhood to the heartfelt traditions that bring her team and community closer, every detail tells a story of passion and purpose. Through discipline, commitment, and an unwavering love for her craft, she has built not just a space for indulgence but a place that has punctuated celebrations. And it stands as a landmark built over time as an outcome of Willy Wonka’s eternal encouragement, “We are the dreamers of dreams!”
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