Hashim Amla driving with Ian Bell at Silly Point. Picture from EspnCricinfo.
It is unusually close to the batsmen. It is a dangerous, yet a rewarding position. It gives new players a chance to learn the game, the nimble ones a chance to display their fielding prowess, and the wily ones a chance to show-off their “running-someone-out” smartness. But sadly it gives the careless, inattentive ones, a chance to get injured, or sometimes just die. No wonder they call it the silly point.
Over the years this spot has developed another utility beyond the realms of fielding. The unstructured and sometimes insensible rise of sledging or Mental Disintegration (as Steven Waugh famously honey-coated the practice) in Cricket has provided it more significance on field than ever before, for it is the only position apart from the bowler who can constantly throw a gaze at the batsman. Learning has been replaced with a know-it-all attitude, nimbleness has been verbalized, and wiliness is now wrapped with arrogance.
What has stayed the same is the fear. Fear of losing your senses for a moment. Fear of getting hit by the thread-infused leather. Fear of injury. Fear of death. Fear of batsman.
The best silly point fielders are those who overcome fear, for whom the dismissal is more important than the reactionary jump, the gaze more important than showing the back.
And then there is the stupid thing called life, full of conversations, good ones, bad ones, and those silly ones. In all our conversations we are either trying to learn something about someone, discuss shared interests, evoke a set of emotions, or debate with rationality and mutual respect. On certain occasions the conversations do not go the right way, leading to confusion, chaos, and ultimately a lot of pain.
Over the years we have changed and so have our conversations. We are trying too hard to talk at times, but too little to connect with others. Changing technology has increased the volume of our conversations, but its value is questionable. Changing social structures and behavioural patterns has led to people vigorously competing for attention. Conversations are being used as tools to please people, to judge them, and many a times to inflict insult or to demean them. Learning has been replaced with a know-it-all attitude, rationality with trivial emotions, and respect with arrogance.
What has stayed the same is the fear. Fear of losing your senses during an important conversation. Fear of getting hit by a verbal blow. Fear of insult. Fear of conflict. Fear of losing a friend, or a loved one.
The best of the conversations are had without any fear and inhibitions in mind, where measured responses take precedence over maintaining an image, and conclusion is more important than outcome.
Never be afraid of making an honest point which you truly believe in. In life, as in Cricket, even a Silly Point is not a bad idea.
If you liked the post, try reading this one: Well left
I am a frequent visitor to the multiple coffee shops in Mumbai. During these visits I have developed a special affection for the filter coffee joints at Matunga, and a growing admiration for the multiple homegrown and international brands setting shop in the city. But for me, and many more like me, coffee had humble beginnings. Sometime it was the whisked, often cardamom-flavored home made Nescafe, or the shake-shake-shake blue plastic shaker mixed cold coffee, or the tongue-tingling espresso served at weddings. But none of the experiences have left a deeper impression on my memory than the turban-clad waiters of the Indian Coffee House. And more than the Coffee, this note is about the institution which will always remind me of the word Coffee.
Indian Coffee House or ICH are restaurants run by a set of co-operative societies across the country with strong presence across Kerala, Madhya Pradesh, Chhattisgarh, and some other cities including Bangalore, Kolkata and Shimla. They have their origins in the Coffee Board of India, and were the first proponents of the coffee-promotion movement some 60 odd years back. Apart from the Coffee they serve, their menu also includes breakfast snacks, primarily South Indian, eggs made in different styles, cutlets, their unique version of Chana-bhaturas, with some branches even serving the full meal. They also have a catering business spawning majorly Public Sector Enterprises.
Indian Coffee House at NTPC Township, Korba
As a child growing up in a small Chhattisgarh township in Korba, ICH was the epitome of having a good time. In those days when eating out was a rarity and swallowing fizzy drinks a luxury, ICH was a break from the routine, one of the only ways of us spending some money on pampering ourselves. It was a destination for family dinners and get-togethers, for some memorable birthday treats, and the best place for watching the annual ritual of township Dusshera celebration (it was mighty difficult to get a good spot, but a Gold Spot did come to rescue).
Drawing from the words of my childhood friend, there was and always will be a certain charm about ICH. I might expect some of the younger kids to go in and find the place a bit morose by coffee shop standards, but then perceptions of all things which I fancied as a kid has changed.
At ICH the dishes were served on thick china plates, something we were not used to at home. The waiters moved around in a quick orderly fashion, with the right hand carrying the serving tray, exactly raised to shoulder length. Their walking was accompanied with a clinging sound of shiny Salem steel cutlery hitting the china. We also learned our first lessons of slightly alien-table manners (using cutlery- knife and fork, wiping hands using tissues), although I personally never got a hang of it. I am still not comfortable eating that way. The glasses reminded me of a curved conical frustum, something which we did come to haunt us during our Xth board Mathematics examination.
The interiors were mostly dull with the only striking colors noticed on the ribbon stripes of turbans wore by waiters. I could never figure out the color coding though, it was green for some, and maroon for others, with a rare occurrence of navy blue. The smell of Sambhar dominated the air, pleasantly interrupted by the fragrant whiff of Khus from the Water Cooler and the scent of freshly brewed Filter Coffee from the kitchen. Add to that the wonderful sound of forks and spoons hitting the cutlery while eating and ICH ruled all our senses.
But the sense of taste was never undermined. All variants of Dosa were served fresh and crisp, and yes you could always ask the waiter uncle to make it extra crispy. The Chutney was more daal than coconut kinds, and the sambhar had a majority share of pumpkins and drumsticks. The Wadas were crisp, Idilis soft, Omelets as trustworthy as ever, French Toasts unique, and Cutlets delightful with those chunky pieces of beetroot and carrot. Rs. 14 could buy you a Masala Dosa, Rs. 16 a Special Masala Dosa (with two pieces of cashew nuts in the masala to make it special), Rs. 12 a plate of Idli, and Rs. 6 a filter coffee (this must be the rates in the mid 90s I guess). And yes the Coffee was a delight. I was introduced to the magic of Filter Coffee here, for which I would be forever indebted to ICH.
I have faint memories of dessert too, they kept Dinshaw’s Ice Cream (a Nagpur based brand prevalent in Central India), a kitchen-made Vanilla Ice-Cream (frozen custard, topped with Fruits). The Lassi Ice-Cream combo was good too.
And when the meal ended, the bill was always brought to you neatly tucked in a pile of saunf. Tips if any were all stuffed in a common piggy bank kept on the manager’s desk.
Indian Coffee House at The Mall, Shimla
Over the years I have got a chance to visit Indian Coffee House across various cities. Delhi’s ICH is at Connaught Place is now a poor cousin of the much popular United Coffee House (not related to the society) and is not in a good shape, and Shimla’s ICH is a place dominated by Lawyers and Government Officers at the Mall which does give it a very true to the ICH feel (there is a new one at Kasumpti now, very dull though). ICH’s across Kerala are the busiest, with people from all age groups coming in for a Coffee and a Cutlet (Beef Cutlets were visibly selling more), and the Bangalore one has been relocated to a neat and new location on Church Street from MG Road post the Metro construction. But it is MP and Chhattisgarh which have kept the institution running outside Kerala in a well spread out and popular manner. I do want to visit the ICHs across Kolkata though, have heard they still retain the old world ICH Charm.
I am scared that like all things good, ICH will cease to exist in a few years from now. So what is the place of an age-old institution with socialist roots in the new India with chic cafes and upmarket restaurants?
I am quite to used to writing letters, just that it has been some time since I felt like writing one for someone. But then I couldn’t resist dropping you note.
It has been a month since I left your shores, and I have thought about you quite often. Before I met you, I had known you only through Cricket, the legend of Ramayana, and sometimes through the history of long running conflict between your children. As a kid who enjoyed bits of the Ramayana (through the eyes of Ramanand Sagar and Uncle Pai) and lots of Cricket, I grew up visualizing you across these two dimensions. But then actual meetings do break notions and change perceptions.
My week long journey took me across your coastal waist line, a bit towards your mountainous heart, and slightly up towards your brain full of knowledge, culture, and tradition.
I have always been attracted towards a curvy waistline like yours. But in your case the attraction was more a result of your immaculate shores and cheerful inhabitants. Sitting on your shores, where the clean waters of Indian Ocean playfully stroked the sands at Hikkaduwa and Unawatuna and skies promptly changed colors through all the shades of a Doordarshan-VIBGYOR, I felt completely at peace. It was a relaxing, a Po-like feeling, sound-years away from all the noise of the city I live in. It was here that I found your kin of happy, beach-cricket playing Buddhists flashing their toothy grins, and flaunting their attractive dark shiny skin, with long flowing Malinga-like hair (probably as a result of their protein-rich seafood diet). In between those smiles, I also came across a few broken grins, carrying wounds of the Tsunami which violated your shores some years back. But the smile of my toothless Scuba Diving instructor assured me that you and your children had moved on.
I left the comfort of your waist and followed your partially ruptured network of railway tracks, and neatly laid out roads towards the central highlands. It was at Kandy where I found the lost tooth of your child’s smile, quite amazingly being that of the Buddha himself. It was the Temple of Tooth which gave me an alternate mythological narrative to the India-Sri Lanka relationship, so deeply engrained in the Ramayana, where the story of the tooth depicted through a series of paintings “Amar Chitra Katha-ed” me. Beyond the temple, with the noise coming back Kandy had started feeling a bit more like home. If your waistline gave me peace and comfort, your heart palpitated between the noisy and the normal, between the brawn and the Buddha.
The City of Kandy
A trip southwards of Kandy would have led us to the beautiful highlands of Nuwara Elaya and Horton Plains, but we chose to navigate northwards. The trek to the royal seat of Sigriya, crossing its recovered 4th Century A.D. compound, its neatly reconstructed gardens, its faded frescos, and artificially constructed staircases helped me overcome my curiosity. It might have been the ruling post of the mighty King Kashyapa, but for me it was my small seat of enlightenment. Sitting atop acres of dark forests, and a murky set of clouds passing at a knee-length, I felt like a learned man. I was happy that I got to know and experience you a bit more. And I finally had an answer to why those Lions are printed on your dress. I wish I could have traveled deeper into your brain towards Anuradhapura, but then the time was less, and I had to caress your hand on my way back home.
The Road to Sigriya
I chose your right hand, the industrious, populated city of Colombo. I saw your children working hard, be it the stock exchange white-collared executives or the street vendors at Galle Face. All of a sudden you were as noisy as my own country, and the lines between you and India blurred. But I noticed more happiness on the face of your children. They all seemed content. You it seems are content after the war has ended. You also have a strong leader running your country. You are lucky.
It was in Colombo where I truly discovered your passion for the gentlemen’s game. From the kids playing Cricket on the Galle Face promenade, to a nostalgic and gastronomically satisfying evening at Cricket Club Café, my last moments in Sri Lanka were spent in the company of a sport we both equally love.
I saw you talking to others to my friend. A lot of travelers come from western countries looking for what I found, but I could notice the special bond you shared with Britishers (probably the aftereffect of the Raj), Australians (influence on Cafés, Steaks, Burgers, and the City of Galle which shares a deep, but recent connect with the continent-nation), and Indians (with whom you share a love-hate relationship). And yes then there were our new friends, the Chinese. I know they are building you bridges, but do remember who built the first bridge to connect your country with the world.
I miss you a bit and so I will be back. For watching a Test Match at Galle, or probably to wander through the remains of Anuradhapura, or for a dive at Trincomalee.
Thanks for the hospitality and comfort you gave me.
Angelic Prawns, Devilled Chillies, and lots of EGB!!!
My journey across Sri Lanka flipped me through a variety of experiences, but the ones which stood out were the Prawns (in salads, curries, butter garlic, cocktail, and an endless list), the devilled recipes (chicken, prawns, vegetables and a brilliant Maggi flavor), usage of some vegetables and fruits which we don’t find that commonly in India (such as Leeks and Avocados), and an ability to merge western influences with local cuisine, both from the legacy of the British Raj, as well as island’s Australian linkages.
Sri Lankan food bears close resemblance to the food served in South India, especially that of Kerala, with bits of Tamil Nadu in it too. But there are some heavy influences of Indian-Chinese cuisine too. And given the growing presence of China in the region, it seems even the cuisine will be dominated by them soon.
The Complete Sri Lankan Meal
After a brilliant experience at Sigriya, Saman’s Guest House was the best thing which could have happened to us. Situated close to the Cave Temples at Dambulla, they serve (or claim to serve) an authentic Sri Lankan meal. The meal included a heap of steamed rice served with (starting from far right corner in clockwise order), Breadfruit, Cabbage, Beetroot, Mango Chutney, Dal Curry, Cucumber, Chicken Gravy, Fried Pappadam and Fried Chillies.
Complete Sri Lankan Meal at Samans, Dambulla
The meal had heavy influences of a Kerala meal, but was way less spicier than any type of Indian cuisine. The Breadfruit preparation was unique, and a new experience. Prepared with coconut, it was a bit like Jackfruit, but still quite different. Chicken Curry was very meek, and so were the other veggies. Although we were happy to have a simple meal after days of Devilled dishes.
But for a SLR 800, I think we deserved a bit more than mildness.
Breakfast Items
Sri Lankan breakfast borders on similarities with South Indian cuisine, but just as you feel you are eating the same thing, there is always a difference which pops up in mouth. An interesting thing which we noticed was the breakfast serving style (common in Lankan bakeries too). A heap of available items is served on a plate and you can pick and choose what you want, and they would keep a track of what you eat and how much, even in a Buffet format.
Common items include Hoppers (our own Idiyappam), Roti (Rice Flour Bread) served with Fish / Potato curry, and Vadai (in various styles, ranging from regular Medu Vada, Vada made from slightly roughly grounded daal, and the weirdest of them all, Vadas with Prawns and Crabs stuck on them, a popular Sri Lankan Railway snack too).
Prawns Vadai, you can even see their moustache!!!
On our way To Dambulla, we stopped at a small place for breakfast. It was a breakfast buffet, where I picked up hoppers with Pol Sambol (a tangy mix of fresh coconut, chilies, and onions, with tones of tamarind), Vadai and Potato Curry (really mild). The spread also included a Fish Curry and Roti, something which I can never eat for breakfast.
Bits of a Sri Lankan Breakfast Buffet
Picked up this platter at a small hotel near Colombo bus stand, similar stuff just that we got some hot sambhar (Tamil style) with some fresh coconut and tomato chutney. Vadai was very rough, and cold. But breakfast for 3 came to 180 SLR!
Sri Lankan Breakfast, Tamil Style!
My Mamaji always tells me that the person who loves eggs, will never be in a situation of not having anything decent to eat in any part of the world. And this Cheese Omelet at Anura’s Café inside Galle Fort didn’t disappoint.
Plain Cheese Omlet
Prawns
Honestly by the end of my Sri Lankan trip I was slightly bored of eating Prawns. Poor prawns had been curried, grilled, fried, devilled, cocktail-ed so many times for me, that their entire species will be planning revenge on me soon.
The best ones I had were these Tiger Prawns at a sweet little Unawatuna Beachside Restaurant (which showcased some random Sri Lankan Folk Dance and Fireplay along with an open kitchen). I sucked on to these prawns as if there will be no tomorrow, and wiped them off with some steamed rice and Sri Lankan curry (which at these place was more like a mild Thai Curry with bits of Lemon Grass and Kaffir lime leaves). The meal was washed off with a glass of good quality Arrack and Coke.
Butter Garlic Tiger Prawns, with rice and curry
Devilled food
Devilled food forms a key style of Sri Lankan out-of-home eating experience. Devilled format is simple, it is a bit sweet, and but rates extremely high on the Scoville Scale. I have seen Devilled dishes (like Chicken and Egg) in some parts of Kolkata too. It is quite clearly an offshoot of the Indian-Chinese cuisine with extensive use of crunchy leeks and capsicums, eggs, and options of sea food, chicken or red meat. And yes it also has a Maggi flavor, with Sajid Khan’s muse and Sri Lanka’s most well-known face outside Cricket as its brand ambassador (Jacqueline, how did he get her!!!).
The Devilled Chicken at Mama’s Shack, Hikkaduwa was neatly done. It was our first meal in Lanka. The Chicken was crisp outside and perfectly cooked, with lots of leeks (giving it a nice crunchy, fresh feel), and a sauce which beat the hell out of Mr. Scoville. (if there was ever one)
Devilled chicken at Mama’s shack, Hikkaduwa
The Devilled Chicken Rice platter for SLR 350 at Lyons Restaurant, Hindu Kovil, Kandy was good value for money, but the taste didn’t match upto the Mama’s standard. The platter had rice, devilled chicken, gravy, and boiled eggs. Two of us couldn’t finish it fully. Tough place to find once you are in Kandy, but once you enter the Kovil area, it welcomes you with Vijay posters, some Tamil signboards, and Tamil Movie CD shops.
Devilled Rice Platter at Lyons, Kandy
Street Food
Vegetarians in Sri Lanka can rely on street food for two of its more popular items, Rotti and Kottu. Rotti is a stuffed Maida Paratha beaten to death with oil with stuffing ranging from the humble veggies to eggs, bacon strips, and the more outrageous Nutella. Although if you are a vegetarian, Rotti is one of your best options for a tasty snack.
Cheese Garlic Tomato Rotti
Kottu on the other hand is a popular dish down in Tamil Nadu. Broken pieces of the same Maida Paratha are scrambled with veggies, and/or meat. Surprisingly we had the best Kottu at the World Trade Centre Cafeteria, near Galle Face, Colombo. The vegetarian one had boiled chana added to it, along with cabbage and capsicum.
But the most satisfying one was consumed after a night long party at Hikkaduwa.
The Making of a Kottu
Other street food items included the Prawns Vadai (mentioned earlier), Tamil street food items like Sundal and Boiled Peanuts, and other breakfast items sold on street-side. I came across these Coconutty Jalebas too while walking near the Kandy Station. Their size reminded me of Indore, but the taste was something I couldn’t connect to.
Coconutty Jalebas
Bakeries
Bakeries in Sri Lanka were quite simply, disappointing, a bit like Jacqueline, beautiful looking, but with no substance. We visited Whitehouse and Bakehouse at Kandy, a Bakery near Galle Station. All of them were average, but very inexpensive.
Kandy Bakeries
Beverages
When it came to drinks, there were experiences both good and bad, but drinking EGB was something special. From the first sip I had at the Colombo Bus stand to the last sip I had at Mumbai, EGB was as special as Old Monk with Thums Up in days of pittance, or like a properly made Thandai for Holi, or probably a bit more than that. EGB is Sri Lankan brand of Ginger Beer (non-alcoholic), a fizzy Gingery drink which goes amazingly well with Sri Lankan food, especially the Devilled stuff. It’s tagline of No EGB, No Food was our food anthem during the entire trip. (SLR 95 for 600 ml bottle)
Giving some tough competition to EGB was Milo. Yes the same Milo which was launched unsuccessfully in India by Nestle few years back, is sold as a cold malted beverage (with Sri Lankan Cricket’s future Angelo Matthews as its Brand ambassador). Somehow I got extremely hooked on to its taste, consuming a significant number of boxes on the trip. (SLR 40 for 200 ml)
Other items included the Sri Lankan team (Sweetish, low on colour, less on fragrance, and mild), popular local beers (Lion’s was consumed in significant quantities, nothing special), Arrack with Lime and Coke (surprisingly delicious), and coconut water. Some local cold drinks were also tried out, including the popular Cream Sodas, but nothing came close to EGB.
My favorite bar on the trip was Sam’s Bar at Hikkaduwa. Run by Sam and his twin brother, this place boasts of a decent crowd, good discussions, a pool area, and a knowledgeable cricket and football loving audience. They serve really good burgers too, with the steaks deriving a lot of influence from Australian style of steak-making.
Another decent drinking place was The Pub at Kandy, a bit on the costlier side though.
Apart from the above we had a brilliant Avocado Milk Shake (along with a Mango shake, and they were selling Mangoes at a lot of places too) at Peddlers Inn, Galle Fort (one of the most beautiful café I have come across).
Mango Shake | Avocado Shake
Avocados are tropical fruits (popular for Guacamole dips) which are grown abundantly in Lanka. We also had a Pesto dripped Avocado salad at a beachside shack in Unawatuna, a very unique taste indeed, much different from the dips we are used to.
Avocado Salad with Pesto Olive Oil dressing and Greens
Cricket Club Café
Among all the places visited, I think Cricket Club Café (Colombo) deserves a special mention. The place is filled with nostalgia and so much cricket that anything else would hardly matter. From the memories of Ian Botham to Sachin to Akram, the décor of the place will surely evoke lot of memories and give you some Goosebumps.
But more than anything which would appeal a Cricket fan is its innovatively laid out food menu. The dishes are designed and named after Cricketing greats, and either includes some of their favourite dishes, or a brilliant superimposition of the player’s name or personality with the dish.
So the dishes were named from the slightly dim-witted Alan Lamb Chops, to the more intelligently named Holding’s Lips (Potato Wedges resembling Holding’s thick lips, and spice representing his fierceness). Some were named to maintain a rhyming theme like Compton Cashews (Spiced and fried cashews with curry leaves), and some were the player’s favourite recipes like the Bradman Special (Pancakes with syrup, fried bananas, ice cream and crushed peanuts). And there were cases where I couldn’t deduce any logic, like Jayawardena Special Pasta (very tasty though). Also lot of items on the menu also had a strong Australian lineage owing to its owners and Sri Lanka’s close ties with the island continent.
Cricket and Food at Cricket Club Cafe, Colombo
The trip to Sri Lanka was surely a memorable one (evident from what I had), but I hope I could have tried food at a Lankan home, that would have given me a really real sense of thier actual cuisine. Although to keep the tempo going, I got myself a kit of Lankan goodies I loved.
Devilled Maggi, EGB, and Milo back in Mumbai
Do read this brilliant post which I came across before visiting Sri Lanka, surely inspired me to go and eat more.
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In case you have visited Sri Lanka, how did your culinary adventure span out?
विचलित मन, कुंठित जीवन,
दिशाहीन, घटनाओं से सहमा, घबराया हुआ।
हर क्षण है मरता मेरे अन्दर यह भारत,
और भारतीयता की भावना।
वो:
विनष्ट तन, निर्जीव जीवन,
मैं ही थी वो घटना जिसने तुम्हे था जगाया।
मेरी मृत्यु के साथ मरी वो कल्पना,
जिसे हमने भारत कहलाया।
भारत:
घटनाएं तो रोज़ होती है, मैं हो चूका उसका आदि,
हिम्मत है तो तुम संभालो इतनी बड़ी आबादी।
घटनाएं तो होती रहेंगी, इसका है एक ही उपाय,
देश को छोड़ देने के अलावा तुम्हारे पास क्या ही है पर्याय?
मैं तो नहीं बदलूँगा, रहना है तो रहो,
वरना नापो रास्ता।
मैं:
तो क्या मेरा संघर्ष व्यर्थ जाएगा?
वो:
तो क्या मेरी मृत्यु व्यर्थ जायेगी?
भारत:
संघर्ष? मृत्यु? किसकी?
मैं तुम्हे जानता तक नहीं।
इतने सालो से यहाँ रहते हो,
इतना भी नहीं समझे की मैं बहुत जल्दी चीज़े भूल जाता हु।
मैं:
अरे भाई, क्रिकेट का स्कोर क्या हुआ है?
गुजरात के चुनाव कौन जीत रहा है?
वो:
ओह, तो तुम मुझे भूल भी गए?
तुम वही हो ना जो मेरे नाम रख रहे थे।
इंडिया गेट पर नारे लगाने वाले तुम्ही थे ना?
भारत:
हा हा हा।
मैं:
यार आज फिर दिल्ली में एक घटना घटी,
बेचारी केवल 15 वर्ष की थी।
वो:
विनष्ट तन, निर्जीव जीवन,
मैं हूँ वो घटना जिसने तुम्हे फिर से है जगाया।
The first whiff of the drink had me confused, and a bit curious. My sense of smell was elevated, probably as a result of my blindfolded vision. I could almost see what I was smelling. A cup of filter coffee, a shot of vodka, a bowl of caramel pudding, or an interesting new note of fragrance. Ok it was time to taste.
The tip of the tongue had a bit of caramel on, with some coffee at the back of it, but I knew it is Vodka as it rolled down my digestive system with a slight tingling feel. The after taste was more coffee than anything. A sweet, coffee taste. I loved it.
Just to make things clear I am not a coffee expert. But I have my set of memories and experiences associated with it, be it the tongue-tingling Indian Styled Espresso, or my favorite filter brew at Matunga. I love my filter coffee, milky and strong, but without sugar. Over the past year though, my coffee consumption has risen, as the Vodka consumption has fallen. Given the circumstances Smirnoff Espresso seems like quite a discovery.
I was introduced to this new flavor this weekend at an Espressology event hosted by Tim Judge at Out of the blue, Bandra. The audience was mix of interesting people, bloggers, popular faces from twitter and some f&b experts. The event was a well-organized one, a neatly laid out space (although a bit cramped leading to 6-7 glasses breaking during the session), but the arrangements and a energetic facilitation by Tim ensured that the audience was hooked on for the entire duration.
Neatly laid out table setupA bit of spice
Tim started by providing an overview of the coffee and vodka market, and gave just the right context before we started experiencing the drinks. First up was the blind tasting, followed with a few cocktails: an Espresso Martini, an Irish Coffee, and a really innovative Vodka-Cola-Sorbet. Also I got a chance to create a new cocktail, the Vodka Hazelnut Rabdi along with Karishma.
What’s more, in possession of a bottle right now and planning to use for a house party soon. You are invited for an Espresso Martini, Shaken not stirred .
In case you can’t make it, here is the recipe.
Espresso Martini using Smirnoff Espresso
The Smirnoff® Espresso Martini
Ingredients:
60ml of Smirnoff™ Espresso, 10ml of Sugar Syrup, Double fresh Espresso Coffee shot
Method:
Fill shaker ¾ with ice. Pour in all ingredients & shake. Strain into cold martini glass or pour on the rocks in old fashioned glass
I got an opportunity to interact with Chef Sergi Arola this weekend at Arola, JW Marriot, Mumbai. Chef Arola is visiting the country and HT Café organized this interactive session with a group of food bloggers.
In many ways the work of Chef is similar to that of a management consultant. Both have a strong set of methodologies and belief systems, something which they seldom move away from. Most of the chefs believe in simplicity and simplifying the problem, or in their case the cuisine in question, a trait common with the most successful consultants who can break a complex problem into simple, solvable sets. And above all they are beautiful presenters of both their thought process and the final end product, with the presentation always being a critical component of delivering the solution.
One of the most intriguing things about Chef Arola is his association with one of the Chefs I adore, Ferran Adria (the King of Molecular Gastronomy). When I got an opportunity I was quick to grab and ask Chef Arola about his experiences with Adria and El Bulli. Although he was appreciative of his association, I think he doesn’t identify much with the concepts of Adria and what he does with his food. Perfectly fine.
The table layout was a simple one, with minimal ingredients, which was in line with the Chef’s philosophy around simplicity in Catalonian food. He believes in bringing the best of Spanish Culture for Mumbaikars, through minor customizations to suit the Indian palette.
We made three dishes, a popular tapas (Patatas Alioli), a tandoori lobster with a simple dressing, and a brilliant dessert. In between the recipes Chef also shared a Tandoori Roti customizations of the Spanish Bread and Tomato staple.
Patatas Alioli
Tandoori Lobsters
And the Dessert
Tandoori Roti with Tomato, Garlic, and Olive Oil
For me the dessert was the dish of the evening, with the foamy custard, cream-cookie mix and the cookies mixing perfectly. It was the lightness of the dish which struck me, as it gave the dessert a slightly guilt free feel.
I look forward to visiting the Arola sometime soon, and I am surely ordering the plate of Patatas and the dessert.
Disclosure: Restaurant’s Public Relations agency covered all the expenses associated with the food tastings mentioned above. For more details refer my disclosure page.
Inviting you for a street food tweetup at Ghatkopar (E), Khau Galli, one of the most exciting street food zones in Mumbai.
Ghatkopar offers a wide range of a street food delicacies, from traditional Gujarati items like Masala Khicha, Fafda-Jalebi, Undhiyu, Patti Samosa, Dhoklas, Khandvi, to the more adventurous Gujju-Pasta, and remixed Dosas. And then there would be the standard fare of frankies, kachoris, panipuris and Pav Bhaji.This is an attempt is to introduce you to this wonderful part of Mumbai, tweet a bit, eat a lot, talk about Gujarati food, share experiences related to street food, click a few pictures, and top it all with a Badshah Malai Gola and a Nimbu Soda to digest it all.So are you coming? And who will be #KhauGalliChaRaja? To confirm please visit the event page.
Damages: 300-400 Rs. per head (approx)
Drop a mail to beingdesh@gmail.com, or tweet to @desh for any additional information.
p.s.: All items are 100% vegetarian. I am not liable for any health-related impacts. I will eat, what you will eat . Expect a bit of chaos in the market, it is very crowded.
Thanks tomy dear friend Dhairya Parikh for introducing me to this amazing place :).
An Indian wedding is an eclectic mix of bright colours, fading traditions, emerging stupidities, and extreme pandemonium. It is difficult to single out the reason for this state of disorder in any wedding. It can come from the Old-Brigade perched closely as if it was another day in the neighborhood park; or from Red-Sari wearing, slightly bottom-heavy aunties, lost in conversations and wiping out plates of Paneer Tikka; or from Whisky-sipping Uncles who pat your back on every instance and always make you feel old by saying, “We saw you when you were this small”; or from youngsters lost between Jooti-Wars and undertaking every step possible to attract the opposite sex; or from those kids aimlessly running across the wedding venue, a third of whom are doomed to fall and cry, and the rest spend their evening fulfilling culinary requests from Old-Brigade, “Beta, you are SharmaJi’s son na. Can you get us a couple of Rotis, please?”.
Amidst the clutter, one tends to seek temporary relief in food. But the sheer magnitude of culinary offerings, which transforms Wedding Buffet into a Pragati Maidan-like Industrial Expo is more nauseating than it is alleviating.
One thing which often helps is a Coffee Break. And nothing can be better than the Jug-वाली coffee, popularly known as Expresso Coffee.
And it isn’t that difficult to make. An intricate system of pipelines run through a kitschy kaleidoscope-like colored metal box which works non-stop to push steam out. The steam is passed into a Jug full of milk, coffee powder, and sugar. It is served usually in paper/thermocol cups, with a sprinkling of drinking chocolate power on top. The end result is screeching-hot.
Someone lifting the coffee usually first cups their hands around to feel the warmth, especially during winters. More often than not, the coffee-drinker then tends to dip their tongue in coffee, and almost all the times it stings the tongue with a sharp burning sensation. The coffee drinking experience is mostly characterized through an alternate usage of cold-blows and tongue-dips, taking the coffee-drinker through a unique journey from Sub-Saharan Africa to the Arctic, within a small yet highly-sensitive region of the tongue.
One can never make out the actual flavors of this coffee, as we can never feel any. The heat ensures that the tongue goes into partial paralysis, and what we remember is just the warmth, and the normalcy it brings to the proceedings around us.
But like all good things, even the Expresso Machine is disappearing from Indian weddings. Now one can see popular coffee retail chains getting into serving coffee at weddings. I still recall walking into a café few years back (Café Coffee Day I vaguely remember) and asking for an Expresso, getting a shot of black coffee in return (And then I realized that it had always been Espresso, and not Expresso as I called it, and this category is popularly known as Indian Espresso).
There are coffee shops everywhere, premium brands available at retail outlets, I have a filter at home to brew filter coffee, I also make my फेटी (whipped) coffee, a couple of Starbucks have just opened up in Mumbai, there are coffee workshops happening all over.
Slowly and steadily the flavors of Shimla were building on me, or probably building a better me. The daily dose of the forgettable Kadhi, the ever so delightful daal, and ghee-moistened rotis served by those beautiful long slender fingers were adding a new dimension to my life. One beyond infatuation, adding a slight crispiness to romantic fascinations of teenage years, and semi-serious indulgences of recent times. It was a 70s movie refashioned for present day consumption, Engineer guy arrives from big city, falls for a Pahadi girl while working on a dam project, impregnates her on “that” lightening-struck, stormy evening, overcomes all difficulties and lives happily ever after. The story was slightly different though, I wasn’t working on any dam project, there were no song and dance routines, I had hardly touched her, and yes the biggest thing, I had never talked to her.
Sitting one night at my haunted accommodation, and listening to my still talking-on-phone friend, I had an idea. Well it wasn’t a stroke of genius , but writing letters was my thing. And I knew this would work. So I added a note, written in a dyslexia-smitten Hindi writing. I had asked her to meet me at Krishna Bakery, at The Mall the day after at evening, 4 PM.
Next night things were running as per the script. Her mom was sitting at the counter and abusing everyone from Chief Minister of Himachal to the Gandhi Family for low Apple production in Himachal this year while reading vividly colorful Punjab Kesari, my friend was still on phone, she was making those lovely rotis, and I was busy eating. She shut the stove, picked the basket and came walking towards our table. As I beamishly watched her face, she served me and my still talking-on-phone friend. And I held her hand. She was shocked. I felt as I was being hit with the thunderbolt, just as Michael Corleone was hit by his Sicilian first wife, or Feroze Khan by an Afghani Hema Malini in Godfather’s pathetic Indian adaptation- Dharmatma.
Her hands were powedered with bits of dry flour, but beneath the flour lay those soft beautiful slender fingers, which I could just hold on to forever. She had a timid, yet a welcoming look on her face. I guess she felt like snatching away her hand, but just couldn’t do it. I quickly took the letter folded as a small chit and pushed it in between her fingers. She snatched away her hands and with a shooting smile rushed inside her house. Behind those dirty-torn curtains, lay something special, something which was building on me, or building a better me.
That night I could hardly sleep.
Next day I had some work at the YMCA office next to Ritz at the mall in afternoon, so I left my office immediately after lunch. I kept thinking about the moment I could talk to her, on the bus, on the Rs. 7 lift ride to the the Mall, during my meeting with the YMCA Shimla Chairman, and all the time after that. The meeting ended around 3:30 PM and I rushed out of the Chairman’s office towards the main road of the Mall.
I reached Krishna Bakery and ordered my favorite plate of Kurkej. Kurkejs are veggie sticks made from a mix of potatoes, carrots, cabbage, and capsicum. The sticks are rolled, coated with a bit of cheese and then baked and fried. They are served with Garlic-Chilly momo sauce, green chutney and white sauce (which tastes like packaged Garlic mayo). Strangely I haven’t found this dish anywhere else in India. Although they are horrible while they are cold, tasty yet hardly edible. I took my plate, spotted an empty bench and sat there, munching on Kurkejs. It was almost 4 PM. There was a chill in air, heightened by the anticipation of meeting, a bit of nervousness and a lot of expectation.
And it was 4:15 PM.
There was beauty all over, the old Victorian structures and wooden buildings, the cutest of school kids in their bright uniforms and toned blazers, beautiful people with an amazing Himachali sheen on their skin, and above all the mist filled scenery. Her presence would have completed this already complete picture.
And it was 4:45 PM.
I waited for some more time, slowly flicking through the Dominique Lapierre book I had been reading. Freedom at Midnight had its chapters on Shimla, especially the scenic descriptions of Viceregal Lodge (now Institute of Advanced Studies) witnessing the drafting of India’s partition plans. Me waiting for her here was a bit like the partition plan, the foolish quickness of decision making, and the absence of a sound logic were similar to the drawing of the Radcliffe Line.
But not all decisions in life tend to be logical.
And it was 5:30 PM already.
There was no point waiting further. I packed some Momos for my friend and started walking down the Mall towards the bus stand. Strangely at this bakery, the Momos were plated in the exact same way as Kurkejs were, with lots of Momo sauce, Green Chutney and Mayo. I gave my friend a call and asked him to meet me at Kasumpti. I then took one of those bread-box like Shimla Transport buses towards Kasumpti.
I met him at the bus stand and he wanted to have an early meal. Obviously given I wasn’t there, he would have missed our evening Pakods, Jalebi and couple of shots of milky tea. We started walking towards the eatery.
We reached our daily kadhi-daal-roti adobe around 7 PM. My still-talking-on-phone entered while I stood outside. She was standing on the counter, looking at me, with an amicable smile, a really pleasing one. All of a sudden there was a mini-eruption of anger within, maybe she was smiling at my foolishness. I quickly walked past the eatery and ran towards my hostel.
My friend didn’t even realize that I was absent till he came back to hostel that night.
That night I could hardly sleep. There was another week to go before I moved back to Mumbai.
So for the next seven days I kept passing her place, looking at her and walking past it. I saw an array of emotions, smiles turning to sorrow, happiness turning to fury, and amazement turing to disugust. The growing coldness in her eyes was completely in contrast with the rising temperature.
I didn’t meet her again. Infact I never met her. I left Shimla the next week. The flavors which had dominated my life for the past few weeks had mellowed down. Life was a bit like those cold Kurkejs, tasty, yet hardly edible.
.
beingdesh 