In terms of eating and exploring stories around food, this has been a relatively weak year. But the weekend which just went by, I think I did some justice to what I truly believe in, and enjoy doing.
It all started with the Taste of Mumbai festival, which was held at the Grant and Wilson Gymkhana Grounds from 22nd to 24th Mar, 2013. Taste festivals are organized globally across major cities with a promise to offer world-class cuisine, demos, interactions with leading Chefs and other events.
I attended the festival on a (really) hot Saturday afternoon. I was initially lost observing the details of the venue (minus the Taste festivities) as after my reading of Ramchandra Guha’s Corner of the Foreign Field, I have started looking at these Gymkhana grounds in a special way. Although the thoughts of the Palwankar Brothers and origins of Cricket in Mumbai quickly faded out soon as I set my sight on some amazing food.
My favorite set of dishes came from the Caperberry stall. Caperberry is a Bangalore based restaurant which is introducing the concepts of molecular gastronomy in India. It is just not a simple extension of the famous El Bulli school of cooking, but rather an experiment with Indian flavors contributing significantly to it.
At the festival they served Assorted Spherifications, Cauliflower Espuma, and Stuffed Morel.
(Clockwise starting from left) Assorted Spherification, Cauliflower Espuma, Stuffed Morel from Caperberry
I have been waiting for the spherifications to burst in my mouth ever since I read about El Bulli and the concepts of Molecular Gastronomy. These forms and textures just hit with you a pleasant surprise. I loved the Mango-Feta one with a hint of Ginger, although it seems the public opinion was vastly in favour of the Pani Puri one. When you are having something like this your taste-buds wait with a certain expectation, but the surprise hits you hard, in a delightful way. The Cauliflower Espuma had quite easily the best flavours of the afternoon for me. Cauliflower subjected to a series of Nitrogen induced experiments (or what is popularly called Cryo-Cooking) was a delight to consume.
With Chef Abhijeet from Caperberry
It was great to have a chat with Chef Abhijeet, the man behind these delightful creations. We had a chat on the different viewpoints about Molecular Gastronomy, with a significant lobby of Chef being not in favor of such techniques, as you play around with natural forms. Chef’s simple reply to the argument was, “ In order to be different and successful, you sometimes need to face a bit of criticism”. As the taste of the Mozzarella Sphere lingered in my mouth, I couldn’t agree more.
I got to taste a few more interesting dishes as the afternoon progressed (check the entire set here). Somehow I had a strong craving for Prawns and I loved the Garlic Prawns from Arola and the Aglio Olio from Westin Prego. Kofuku is one place is on my hit-list as I got a Wasabi-attack after a long time from a Sushi place. Will be visited soon for some Sushi.
(Clockwise starting from Top-Left corner) Porcini Carpaccio from Arola, Aglio Olio and Tiramisu from from Westin Prego,and Tempura and Sushi from Kofuku
There were cooking demos, book launches, and some drinking happening on the sides. I had some good cocktails at the Mai Tai lounge and some fennel flavored beer. In between everything I finally caught up with Sneh and Aditi and tasted some of their amazing breads from The Baker’s Dozen. Do try them out if you happen to visit Prabhadevi.
Breads from The Baker’s Dozen
On the sidelines of the event caught up with Shivani, Prachi, and Richa. It was also great to finally meet Pooja Dhingra from Le15 and Roxanne (The Tiny Taster).
It was a great event but the name is slightly misleading. As I was chatting with someone the other day, calling it the Taste of Mumbai with no Malwani Seafood, Gujarati Snacky food, or Matunga Idlis is not that correct. Nothing against the festival though, hope they keep doing it every year.
Orange Chocolate Fountain was a topic of much debate
By the end of it I was a bit tired with the heat, but a discussion on the Orange South American Chocolate Fountain tasting like Orange Cream Biscuits we had as kids, and the journey ahead kept me alive.
Disclosure: The organizers of Taste of Mumbai festival covered all the expenses associated with the food tastings mentioned above. For more details refer my disclosure page.
Post the festival I roamed around the Hindu Gymkhana looking at the Cricket match for sometime. Thoughts of Palwankar Brothers were again interrupted by a call my friend Harsh (my partner in Crime). He had been talking so much about this Baklava place at Bhindi Bazaar (which he had tried looking for a week back, rather unsuccessfully), that we felt like we should try once. Rushina had a written a detailed post on this two years back. Given that Harsh is generally so excited about sweets (read his recent post on Baklava and its sister concerns) our journey through the cramped roads of Bhindi Bazaar felt as if it was just a short walk.
I could see the tinkle in his eyes when we were about to reach the store. even my tiredness was all gone when I sensed his energy and quickly moved pass the heavily fragrant attar shops.
The Baklava Story at the Iranian Sweets Palace, Bhindi Bazar
We reached the Sweets Palace but unfortunately couldn’t catch-up with the owner, Hasan Bhai. The Baklava was very different from the ones I have had (very high proportion of the filling to pastry), and the Louse Pista was fascinating. Regret not buying the Louse.
After the long tiring day we celebrated the Baklava achievement with a peaceful evening at Tea Centre. I had been to the Tea Centre after almost two years, a long time to stay away from a place I have liked so much in the past.
Tea Centre
Looking forward to more such weekends. Hope I keep exploring Mumbai with the same rigour in the days to come.
The story of Mysore Pak is close to my heart, one full of love and equal amounts of good cholesterol.
Mysore Pak is quite simply my favourite sweet. There is nothing which comes close to it. Well Jalebi sometimes does, but it still remains a distant second. Bengali sweets are further down the podium. And the western desserts? Well they don’t even clear the heats.
My story is one of discovery, friendship, taste, and limitless delight. I have limited knowledge about its origins and don’t wish to explore a lot. Also I don’t claim to know which form of it is the original, the melt-in-your-mouth Sri Krishna Sweets style or the porous, brittle, harder variety. All I can narrate is the story built of on true love for the sweet, or for the former version of it. The one which deliciously fades away in your mouth with the trueness of Ghee as a rich aftertaste.
My initial encounters with Mysore Pak were far from satisfactory. The sweet shop in my township served a dry, ribbed version, closer to the second variety I mentioned earlier. And then I remember this episode from Malgudi Days where the kid forces his miserly Grandpa to show him a movie, and buy him a Mysore Pak. Although there might have been instances of me tasting its greatness, but probably my taste buds were as immature as I was, still waiting to register its taste.
Things actually turned for the better once I reached Bangalore. Unlike many other things which I love, I can’t single out one instance when I was hit by this sweet lightening. It was a series of events, the boxes of Sri Krishna and Adayar Anand Bhavan (some of them brand it as MysorePa nowadays) arriving at my office with colleagues returning from their native places in Tamil Nadu; the 100 gms I will pick up for Rs. 23 post a idl-vada-dosa breakfast at AnnaKuteera, Banashankari (or any Darshini, or Sagar); the Rs. 50 pack picked up for the sugar-rush post a drinking session.
By the end of my first year in Bangalore, I had established this sweet as the best response for a sweet-craving amongst my friend circle(s). Any drinking session or get-together was meaningless without ending it with Mysore Pak. It made our evenings complete, in a way Curd Rice completes a South Indian meal. I remember an incident where I was walking the lanes of Kormangala with a friend in a drunk state, the drinking session halted by its absence. I also recall carrying a dabba through the city, to welcome a friend of mine who had arrived from Mumbai. I once had a box which was completely frozen in refrigerator so I melted it in a pan, extracted a bowl full of ghee from it, and used it to on khichdi. I enjoyed the moment when I had Milk Mysore Pak, or the brilliantly innovative Horlicks Mysore Pak. It was a fascination which kept growing on me, both the feeling, the stories and yes, the weight.
When I visited Bangalore after a long time, all my friends got together for a drinking session like the older times. There was Gobhi Manchurian, Biriyani, Boiled Eggs, and Medu Wadas. But the session was halted as one of my friends recalled, Pattu aaya hai, aur Mysore Pak nahi! Quite expectedly, my friends halted the session, rushed across the city to get the sweet, and raised a toast to our true love for it.
Even now friends coming from down South usually end up getting a box for me. I am lucky to have friends who appreciate and understand my crazy obsessions.
I love the feeling of Mysore Pak fading away in my mouth, a unique experience with hardly a comparable one to mention. The simplicity of the sweet is unquestionable. It is probably the easiest sweet to de-construct in mouth, equal proportions of Ghee, Sugar and Gram Flour breaking down to infuse such rich flavours I heard it was made for the Mysore Maharaja first, probably the creator took the simplest route to creating something so delightful, and pure.
Yes it is the purest form of love I have ever felt from food, and hence the term Pak-e-Mysore. It is interesting how Pak the Sugar Syrup in Hindi (or Kannada) changes to Pak the pure in Urdu.
We are always on the look out for love, pure and unconditional love, and I am lucky to have Mysore Pak in my life, for what will never change is my love for it.
I had got this Black Dog bottle from United Spirits for review. I thought I will cook something special for a special guest on a special evening to go along with this special bottle. Probably some fried fish, with crispy potatoes on the side, or some peanut butter toast, or probably some eggs on toast with strawberry jam. I had even thought of steaming some –garlicy-prawn-filled momos or using Whiskey as a medium to make some barbecue sauce. It would have been so special. Although like most of my plans, even this one failed.
My early memories of Black Dog take me back to this Amrish Puri dialogue from some Meenakshi Sheshadri movie.
Amrish Puri on Black Dog
Talk of evil and black dogs running through your blood-stream! Hilarious, representative of 80s cinema, and talks a bit about the brand too. Naughty, bordering on evil, but not harmful in anyway. But it was a few years before I actually tasted alcohol of any kind, leave aside Black Dog.
I got an opportunity to taste Black Dog for the first time few years back in Bangalore. It was that typical someone-returned-from-US occasion, with couple of bottles of scotch. There was Chivas Regal, and then there was Black Dog. I chose to go the Amrish Puri way. Although the feel of the whiskey was much smoother on the palate than the others I had tasted, the mind wanted it to be rough, slightly naughty, edgy, and a bit dark on humor, as Amrish Puri. And I processed it along with some egg toasts as the evil drink.
I developed a taste for Scotch in a purely Delhi style later. It was done by sneaking bottles from my friend’s place, setting up a mini-bar in Cars, parking them at Karol Bagh, and eating fried fish and butter laden chicken along with scotch. And yes, we always had them in steel glasses.
Over the past couple of years I have moved away from Hard Liquors, and mostly stick with Wines and Beers. But then this bottle came along.
And so shifting to the present times. As I mentioned earlier I had been fiddling with multiple ideas related to this Bottle. But like most things, they didn’t work out.
I had thrown a party at my place inviting 20+ friends of mine. The menu was a bit playful, I had tossed a few salads and dressed up a few crackers as there was Sangria for company. A lot of Sangria. And there was Mojito. There were Gujju snacks sourced from Ghatkopar, and there was Pani Puri from my favourite roadside cart close to home. I usually organize such parties in afternoon, as it gives people some time to recover post the dozes of alcohol.
At the fag end of the party few people wanted to do some rounds of Vodka Pani Puri, so I opened up my alcohol cabinet for some Vodka. And I found the Black Dog bottle missing! Gone!
I rushed to the bedroom and found two of my friends sitting comfortably sipping Black Dog along with rounds of Ghatkopari Gujju snacks. In a moment all my plans went woosh and I snatched away the bottle, rather rudely. But then I felt bad so I left it there and went ahead serving my friends for the rest of the afternoon.
In the evening when were wrapping everything up we were left with 4-5 friends. And then the two of them came out with half the bottle of Black Dog. We were quite high already from the multiple dozes of alcohol, but we snatched some ice cubes, filled the glasses with it and started sipping it. It was relaxing after a tiring day, slightly refreshing, and was paired perfectly with a lot of friends.
Isn’t drinking all about that? About friends, about a good chat, and about some relaxing times.
And yes it is about a bit of naughtiness too. God, I miss Amrish Puri so much.
Disclosure: Public Relations agency engaged by this brand had sent their product to me for a review. I had mentioned that I don’t usually do product reviews on my blog in my communication with them. For more details refer my disclosure page.
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?
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?
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 