Meet the Women Who Feed the Tatas and Make the Sir Ratan Tata Institute Food Legendary
On a busy stretch of Hughes Road in South Mumbai, the white lettering “RTI” marks an unassuming building that has stood for nearly a century. Inside its kitchens, the air carries the scent of freshly baked cookies, the sizzle of mutton cutlets, and the quiet rhythm of hands that have shaped one of the city’s most enduring food institutions. The Sir Ratan Tata Institute is famous for its authentic Parsi bhonu and bakery classics, yet the true story lies with the women who have cooked, baked, and served these dishes for generations. They are the ones who turned a philanthropic idea into a living legend, feeding not only the public but also, in spirit and practice, the Tata family itself.
The institute was born from a clear-eyed vision of dignity. In April 1928, Lady Navajbai Tata, widow of Sir Ratan Tata and the first woman director of Tata Sons, established it as a tribute to her husband, the son of Tata Group founder Jamsetji Tata. She donated the building to the Stri Zarthosti Mandal, an organisation formed after the bubonic plague of the 1890s to support destitute Parsi women. Lady Navajbai rejected the idea of mere charity. She wanted employment that built self-respect. Women were trained and given work in cookery, hand embroidery, tailoring, and laundry. The kitchen quickly became the most visible and successful division. A second building across the road was later added for expanded embroidery, weaving, and confectionery work. The core principle has never changed: meaningful labour over handouts.
From the beginning, the food carried both tradition and quiet sophistication. Sheramai Tata, a cousin and sister-in-law of Naval Tata who had trained with Swiss pastry chefs, took charge of the confectionery section. She taught the women to produce delicate French classics such as mille-feuille alongside traditional Parsi sweets. Lady Navajbai herself is said to have shared techniques she observed during her travels. The result was a distinctive style that felt both homely and refined. Customers came for mutton cutlets that were crisp outside and tender within, cheese straws that shattered perfectly, dar ni pori, khajur ni ghari, khaman na ladoo, and a rich chocolate cake that regulars still speak of with affection. The famous tiffin service, delivered by uniformed staff in RTI vans, carried these flavours into homes and offices across the city.
The women who made this possible rarely sought the spotlight. Many arrived as young trainees, some from villages, and stayed for decades. Rati Patwa travelled daily for 37 years from Mahim West to the Babulnath area, becoming part of a team of roughly 50 that keeps the counters stocked with puffs, pastries, and savoury items. Maneck Pithawalla joined more than three decades ago, when customers still brought their own tiffin boxes for dhansak, fish cutlets, and other staples. She and her colleagues cooked large batches without written recipes, relying on memory, taste, and shared knowledge passed down through observation. Roshan Davar, long associated with the embroidery section, represents the same generation of dedicated staff. Zenobia Adajania, a committee member since 1965, has described these women as the living heart of the institute: they joined as young trainees living in the hostel and later became department heads and grandmothers, still working with enthusiasm and care.
Their consistency created the “home-style” flavour that sets RTI apart. In a city of restaurants chasing trends, the food here has remained recognisably itself. The same cutlets and pastries that drew earlier generations continue to sell out. During the pandemic, when demand for comfort food rose and help became scarce, the kitchen adapted by supplying meals to more than 20 Parsi baugs through pre-orders and home delivery. Staff began revisiting older recipes that had faded from the regular menu. With help from community members and the institutional memory of long-serving cooks, dishes such as Bharuchi mutton, an older form of Chicken Maivala, Kanda Keri ma Ghosh, Kerwai, and French-influenced pastries like religieuse returned on seasonal “Rewind” menus. The process was painstaking. Some recipes required multiple attempts to match the remembered taste. The women who had cooked them decades earlier provided the essential reference points.
The connection to the Tata family has always been personal as well as institutional. Lady Navajbai’s creation was carried forward by her son Naval Tata and later by Simone Tata, who expanded the children’s clothing and lingerie sections and maintained a close interest in the institute. Ratan Tata himself was known to enjoy the simple, well-made food from the RTI bakery. Stories of his preference for certain chocolate items and home-style Parsi dishes circulate among those familiar with the place. The institute has never been a private kitchen for the family, yet its food has long been part of the wider Tata world of quiet quality and continuity. In recent years, the next generation has also engaged with related Tata Trust entities, underscoring the enduring family link to the broader mission of women’s empowerment and skill-building.
Today the institute employs around 140 people from underprivileged backgrounds, most of them women, drawn from different parts of the country. Some live in hostel facilities; others commute. The work remains generational for many families. Skills learned in the kitchen or embroidery room are passed on. Income supports housing, education, and medical needs. The doors have stayed open to people of different communities and to those often overlooked by mainstream employment. Parallel to the food, the embroidery unit continues to produce intricate gara work and restore heirloom pieces, while a Montessori school and teacher-training centre operate from the annex. The food, however, remains the most public expression of the original idea.
The kitchen has evolved carefully. Newer offerings under a “Gourmet at 35” banner introduce contemporary dishes and sandwiches aimed at younger, well-travelled customers. Food aggregators list RTI items. The old restaurant space has been refreshed for private events. Yet the core menu of cutlets, cheese straws, Parsi sweets, and classic bakery items endures because the women who prepare them treat consistency as a form of respect for both the recipe and the customer. About 40 per cent of the staff have decades of service. Their knowledge of timing, proportion, and subtle adjustment cannot be fully captured in any written recipe.
Nearly a hundred years after Lady Navajbai opened the doors, the Sir Ratan Tata Institute still does what it was created to do. It offers employment that builds independence. It produces food that tastes of care rather than spectacle. And it does so largely through the steady labour of women whose names are known to regulars but rarely celebrated in headlines. They have fed generations of Mumbaikars, sustained a community institution, and, through the quiet excellence of their work, become part of the larger story of the Tata legacy. The cutlets and the cakes are legendary. The women who make them every day are the reason why.
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