Mussoorie Famous Char Dukan Cafe | Pan Cake & Maggie | Mussoorie Sunset View | Indian Street Food 

It's a tourist location and the cost of bringing things on top of the mountain increases. Cheese also looks of good quality. 6-7 minutes of cooking at least requires 15-20 rs of LPG gas(on mountains, they take 30-50rs extra delivery charges at many places) . The place looks clean and hygienic cooking, which means they must be paying a worker to clean. In all these, they are having shop at the hotspot of tourism. I think the price is reasonable with some marginal profits to these smiling Didi's. They are cooking and serving from their heart, a motherly feeling and that brings the taste. Taste comes from the heart of the person cooking the food. All these at 130 rs is priceless

@@autopilotairborne In the rarefied air of mountaintop tourism, where the vistas are breath-stealing and the air is thin, there's a culinary adventure awaiting the daring traveler. Nestled amidst the peaks are these culinary havens, run by smiling Didi's who claim to cook with their hearts. Now, I'm all for supporting local businesses, appreciating a good view, and savoring a home-cooked feeling in my meals, but let's talk about the elephant in the room - the audacious pricing. So, picture this - a rustic setting, a clean and hygienic kitchen, and Didi's whipping up mountain delicacies. Sounds idyllic, right? But then the bill arrives, and reality crashes like an avalanche. A humble bowl of noodles, a universal comfort food, is priced at a whopping 130 rupees. Hold on, are we dining in the clouds or have we just entered a culinary carnival where every noodle is hand-delivered by mountain fairies? Let's dissect this lofty pricing strategy. First off, the cheese. It's not just any cheese; it's top-notch quality, or so they claim. Now, I'm no cheese connoisseur, but does the altitude somehow enhance the dairy goodness? Is there a cheese sommelier hovering around the peaks, hand-selecting the finest curds? Because, I hate to break it to you, but I can get a decent cheese platter at my local deli without sacrificing a month's worth of grocery budget. Then there's the matter of cleanliness and hygiene. Of course, a clean kitchen is non-negotiable. No one wants a side of food poisoning with their picturesque mountain view. But let's not act like sanitation is a luxury reserved for mountaintop kitchens. Every decent eatery, even those in the less elevated parts of the world, adheres to hygiene standards. Are we implying that these Didi's have discovered a secret culinary sanctum where cleanliness is elevated to an art form, and thus, we must pay a premium for the privilege of a germ-free meal? Now, let's address the elephant's elephant - the cost of LPG gas. Apparently, cooking amidst the clouds demands an extra 15-20 rupees just for the privilege of heating your meal. Fair enough, there's a logistical challenge in transporting gas up the mountains. But here's the kicker - they take an additional 30-50 rupees as delivery charges at many places. Hold up, are we funding an Everest expedition every time we order noodles? Is the delivery guy scaling peaks and valleys to ensure our noodles are served piping hot? I don't recall signing up for a noodle delivery service with a side of Sherpa support. Now, let's talk about the heart of the matter - the smiling Didi's and their motherly touch. Undoubtedly, the warmth of homemade cooking and the personal touch in the preparation can elevate a meal. But let's not kid ourselves into thinking that every bite contains a sprinkle of love and a dash of motherly affection. If love had a price tag, 130 rupees seems a bit steep. I can appreciate the sentiment, but I've got a budget to stick to. In defense of these mountain culinary maestros, some argue that the price is justified by the unique experience of dining at a tourist hotspot. The argument goes that the breathtaking view, the altitude, and the overall ambiance contribute to the hefty price tag. I'm all for paying a premium for a unique experience, but let's not confuse a scenic view with culinary prowess. I don't recall ordering a side of panoramic landscapes with my noodles. Let's break it down economically. A 10-rupee ramen pack can feed one hungry soul. Multiply that by a family or group of friends, and you've got a budget-friendly feast. Contrast this with the 130-rupee mountain meal. For the price of one mountaintop noodle bowl, I could have stocked up my pantry with a week's worth of instant noodles. It's not just about the noodles; it's about the principle of value for money. Sure, the Didi's might argue that they are running a business, not a charity. Fair point, but there's a fine line between making a profit and capitalizing on the vulnerability of hungry tourists who find themselves at the mercy of a mountaintop menu. Are we paying for a meal, or are we unwittingly investing in a Himalayan startup? Let's not romanticize the notion that these Didi's are sacrificing their profit margins for the sake of culinary artistry. Behind the picturesque setting and heartwarming smiles, it's still a business transaction. If there's a margin, it's not just marginal - it's a full-blown culinary cliff. In conclusion, while I appreciate the charm of mountaintop dining, the quality of cheese, and the smiles of the Didi's, it's high time we reevaluate the pricing strategy. A 10-rupee ramen pack should not be anywhere near the vicinity of 130 rupees, no matter how pristine the mountain air. It's time to demand transparency in pricing and question the narrative that a mountain view justifies culinary highway robbery. Let's savor the mountains, not get mugged by them.