Before Connaught Place wakes up, Wenger’s is already full: Delhi’s iconic bakery turns 100

It’s 11 am on a Sunday. At the Connaught Place circle, the crowd is thin. The shoe-shine boys are setting up their shops. The colonnaded white Georgian-style buildings have not come alive yet.

But Wenger’s, tucked into a corner of Block A, is already bustling. In its 100th year, the confectionery and bakery is busy as ever, drawing customers across generations.

The steady stream of visitors passes beneath a gold ribbon-style sign bearing the store’s name. On either side, arched glass windows frame the wooden-and-glass doors.

Inside, the display cases are aligned parallel to both walls. The tray with the Shami Kababs is already empty — and it’s been only 15 minutes since the store opened.

Some customers queue up to make their payment while others wait to collect their orders.

Seated on a stool at the counter, in front of the kitchen door, is the 82-year-old former manager, the well-known Charanjeet Singh.

Dressed in a crisp powder-blue shirt, black trousers and a navy-blue tie, he sits tall amid the crowd. His navy-blue turban and gold-rimmed glasses are unmistakable.

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A customer approaches: “Bauji, yeh shami kabab kab tak aayega? (When will the shami kebabs be refilled?)” He answers the question without missing a beat.

Speaking to The Indian Express, the octogenarian recounts the decades he has spent at the store. “I came here as an air-conditioning engineer in 1965… I was 21 years old. But O P Tandon (the previous owner) sir saw potential in me and decided to hire me as manager.”

Charanjeet retired in 2004 but still helps with the daily running of the place.

From Kashmere Gate to Connaught Place

The story of Wenger’s did not begin at its current location.

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In 1924, a Swiss couple, Jeanne Seterchi Wenger and H C Wenger, started a catering venture at Kashmere Gate and named it Wenger’s. It moved to its present spot at Connaught Place in 1933.

Designed by British architect Sir Robert Tor Russel, the new spot was an instant hit. The space included a café called Rendezvous, a ballroom called La Mer, and a party shop called the Green Shop, spread across two storeys.

In 1945, with Indian independence approaching, the Swiss couple sold the bakery to Brij Mohan Tandon, who had been working as the General Manager.

Wenger’s moved to its present spot at Connaught Place in 1933. (Express Photo by Abhinav Saha)

By 1979, the cafe shut down. The first floor was partitioned and rented out to other businesses.

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Charanjeet Singh remembers the Wenger’s of 1965 with photographic clarity. “When I first arrived, there were four types of cake – Vanilla, Strawberry, Pineapple, and Chocolate,” he says.

Now there are dozens. “The Butterscotch Cake, New York Cheesecake, Red Velvet… These are newer flavours. We also have seasonal specials.”

The savoury menu has expanded too. “We now have patties – once only mutton and vegetable, now expanded to include chicken, paneer and mushroom,” says Charanjeet.

As tastes evolved, newer dishes like the Burger Pizza were added to the menu.

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Yet, a handful of recipes have survived untouched through the century. “The plain cake, also called the Madeira Cake, the plum cake, the shortbread biscuits, and lemon tart. These are some of the oldest recipes,” he says.

According to Charanjeet, the current generation of owners — Aman and Atul Tandon, B M Tandon’s grandsons — introduce new items carefully. Nothing goes on sale until the recipe is perfected.

The bestsellers have not changed much. Chicken Patty sells out fast. Among pastries, Black Forest and Pineapple remain favourites. The absolute king, Charanjeet says without hesitation, is the Cream Roll. Among cakes, the Fresh Fruit Cake has stood the test of time.

Customers inside the store in Connaught Place A Block on a Sunday morning.

A century of patrons

Over the years, Wenger’s has drawn an unlikely mix of the famous and the ordinary. Charanjeet recalls them the way an old security guard remembers faces that pass through his gate.

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“Madan Lal Khurana ji – former Union Minister of Parliamentary Affairs of India – used to come. Even former Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee Sahab used to frequent the store, but that was before he became the Prime Minister. When Sajjan Kumar ji used to come, his four bodyguards would stand outside.”

Jumping into the conversation, Kamleshwar Prasad, the current manager of Wenger’s, says, “Even Shah Rukh Khan used to come here. But he wasn’t so popular then, it was during the time when his serial Fauji was on air.”

The regular families are harder to identify. Charanjeet says, “People tell us, ‘we used to come first with our grandfather, then with our father’. They have been coming for 70-80 years. But we never ask for their name. When we see them, we feel that we have something special.”

82-year-old Charanjeet Singh, the former manager, retired in 2004 but still helps with the daily running of the place.

Writer and literary historian Rakhshanda Jalil, who grew up in Delhi, frames this more easily. “In the face of a market economy that is all about deep pockets and big chains, here is somebody valiantly standing on their own, without branches, just a standalone store. I see it as a story of endurance, courage, of just holding your own. And I think that in itself is a very charming story.”

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For Jalil, the bakery is tied to a childhood memory: early evenings in her father’s white Ambassador, walking the corridored hallways of Connaught Place with her siblings, and inevitably ending up at Wenger’s with their noses pressed against the glass cabinet.

She recalls the same three-tier system of payment which exists to this day — you take the order coupon, you pay, you queue again to collect.

In 1945, the Swiss couple who started the bakery sold it to Brij Mohan Tandon, who had been working as the General Manager.

For younger visitors, the associations are different but the pull is just as real.

Nandini Chaubey, 22, a Philosophy student, first visited Wenger’s after an ankle surgery. “I never had the opportunity to try anything because it was always so crowded,” she says.

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Her family tried the blueberry cheesecake, burgers, onion rings, and chocolate croissants. They were hooked.

What keeps drawing her back, she says, is something harder to name. “It feels like home. Whenever I have relatives over or friends over, I go to Wenger’s. It’s a very welcoming place,” she says.

Some customers stop by on the way to the airport — before a transfer or a relocation. They take something with them: a cream roll in a paper bag, a fresh fruit cake in a box, a piece of Wenger’s to carry wherever they are going.

A place in Delhi’s memory

Outside, Delhi has transformed beyond recognition since Charanjeet first arrived. Where a car passed every 15 or 20 minutes, an Ambassador, a Landmaster, perhaps a military officer’s motorcycle, there is now unceasing traffic. The ballroom is gone. The restaurant is gone.

But inside, near the kitchen door, Singh reaches beneath the counter and pulls out a thick, well-worn file. Its pages are organised by date, from the 1st to the 31st. Behind the final divider are orders spilling into the next month.

“This was a system I had made 50 years ago,” he says, with the quiet satisfaction of a man who never saw reason to change something that worked.

Each entry  – a birthday cake, a box for a farewell, a Plum Cake for a family passing through — sits in its slot, waiting for the day it is due.