beingdesh

Category: Ahmedabad

  • Thali Memoirs and A Visit to Rajdhani

    Honestly, I have slightly moved away from the Thali format (by Thali I mean the Unlimited Thali formats, representative of the scores of Marwari-Rajasthani-Gujarati style platters). My initial indulgence in Thalis was a result of petty bets on hogging more rather than any particular interest food. We took so much interest in wiping clean watis of aam-ras, popping those mini-puris and puran–polis, or having more servings of Khichdi-Kadhi than each other, that we hardly noticed the freakishly amazing array of flavors on offer.

    But it helped that in the prime of my hogging days I was based in Ahmedabad, the capital of thalis in India. Slowly I was getting educated about a culinary tradition basic to Indian cooking and eating, the Thali. It took different meanings- from the thali eateries outside Baroda station which were a simple and affordable replacement for home cooked food, to the luxurious experiential dining at Vishala in Ahmedabad. One of my favorites was Pakvaan at Ahmedabad (Near Ellis Bridge), for me it stood for affordable luxury, especially in the cash-strapped days of engineering.

    But then there was what most consider to be the Holy Grail of all Thalis, Govardhan Thaal, at SG Road, Ahmedabad. I remember sneaking past its 56 dish-written whiteboard on multiple occasions, just to be turned-off by the Rs. 120 price tag. I recall when Dad came to visit me and asked for a place where we could go out for Dinner, Govardhan was the place I chose. And I still remember that meal, from the rose-petal-water handwash, right to the rasmalai.

    Times changed and once I came to Mumbai, Rajdhani at InOrbit, Malad gave me an opportunity to relive those Thali memories. Sometimes I feel Thali eating is more about an interesting company, you don’t get time to talk between that quick serving, but you can easily talk with your gestures, eye movements (about to pop-out in case you have had more than enough) and more often than not, a Burrp.

    But then offlate my eating capacity has taken a dip, and the more I have explored food, the more I have started resisting thali. It has become very difficult for me to consume in high quantities, and also I need time and space to absorb a dish, both aesthetically and through my digestive system. Needless to say sometimes the Thali restaurants do come across as slightly intrusive, with their hands popping out of all directions with food, allowing little peace of mind.

    So initially when I received this invite for Rajdhani, I was slightly tentative to go. But then I thought, let’s go, for all the great memories…

    The Visit to Rajdhani

    I will not talk much about the food on offer, because there are few people (Gaurav, Shirin, and Krytie) who have already talked about it. To be short I loved the starters (Patra and Vatana Pattice), then I was lost in the middle with lot of servings, and then regained some ground with the Kheer, a piece of Jalebi, and some Kadhi-Khichdi, and ending it all with a gorgeous Paan-Shot (I like the one served at Punjab Grill much more, guess they use an actual Paan). It’s not like I didn’t like the food, but somehow as I mentioned above I have moved away from the format. But that’s my perspective, a lot of people do love this format (like almost all the members in my entire family).

    I think it is much more important to highlight the processes straight from sourcing to cooking, from serving fresh to developing a signature serving style, from expanding the concept from a single restaurant to a chain, and above all for serving fresh food, daily. So here are two things which stood out for me during my visit:

    Serving FRESH food, daily: Most of the successful players in the business tend to be experts in minimizing wastage, reusing stuff and taking pains to source good quality stuff at minimizing wastage. And yes these are traits more important than having a wide menu, or a great ambience. If you are not getting what I am trying to explain, read something about the restaurant business like Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential, its all about minimizing wastage and keeping your costs in control. So a lot of places you go to actually don’t end up serving “FRESH” food, because it doesn’t make business sense (remember the times when you had so much Garlic in your Daal Tadka, or on a Sunday Brunch you had 2-3 types of Shredded Chicken Salads).

    I love Rajdhani because it serves FRESHLY COOKED FOOD. You visit the kitchens and see limited quantities of a standardized menu being prepared, and you notice the limited cold storage, you know you are eating fresh stuff. And given the tough Industry this is, it is a big USP. And believe me it is a USP. It is one thing which makes Rajdhani food similar to food at home, along with the service which is full of Love (or as we do in India, with Ghee).

    Check out this video of our Kitchen tour (and you can take one anytime during your visit to Rajdhani). Mr. Nair, the VP of Khandani Rajdhani, guides us through the cooking process, the techniques, and the history of Rajdhani.

    Speaking the Language of Food: Goto any restaurant and you see people from all over India working as part of serving staff. But go to a Rajdhani and you will only see people from Rajasthan. Why? Simple, these are people who have grown on Daal Baati or a Gatte ka Sabzi, they will serve what they know. Plus these guys have developed their own code-language of communicating to cut down on service time. We got this small demo at Rajdhani.

    The effort which the staff puts in serving is something unachievable in any other format, they know about the food, they contribute to its creation, and also create a new affectionate language around the same, and the feeling is communicated to its customers. I was reminded of this quote from the Italian movie Life is Beautiful.

    You’re here serving, you’re not a servant. Serving is the supreme art. God is the first of servants. God serves men, but he’s not a servant to men.

    Serving really is a supreme art at Rajdhani. (Although as I mentioned above I have moved away a bit from this format, still I appreciate the effort they put in their service).

    The things which is commendable is that apart from achieving the above two, they have been able to replicate the model, and scale it to create a sustainable and a profitable business model out of it. On the sidelines of the visit when I was chatting with Mr. Nair, I recognized his love for Thali format and the cuisine, heard stories of his early days in business running Thali formats in Gujarat, and realized where all this love and affection in the staff comes from.

    And he too like me, loves Govardhan Thaal and rates it as the best Thali Restaurant in India Smile

    I believe that if you are fond of Thalis, Rajdhani is a must visit place, for all its good service, and freshly prepared food. For people like me, I believe there is space in the market for a slightly slow-paced Thali restaurant.

    Featured Image by Gaurav

    Disclosure: Restaurant’s Public Relations agency covered all the expenses associated with the food tastings mentioned above. For more details refer my disclosure page.

  • The Curse of the Ring

    It was my first winter in Ahmedabad. And a cold winter it was. I remember very few things from that period, maybe there was hardly anything worth remembering. Not from that winter, and not from the few months which followed it.

    Although I do remember the irritating smell of fresh paint in the new hostel, the constant playing of Sayonni by two lovely seniors, who were never awake in mornings, and who hardly wore anything more than a lal chaddi. And yes, I recall sleeping a lot, waking up to my roommate singing Kishore Kumar songs. I remember him slowly breaking out from his pre-college cocoon, ready to fly, but confused how to flutter his wings. I remember the dingy and dark classroom, so much different from the first semester, when things were brighter, when gardens seemed greener, and people around me seemed so cheerful. I recall the guys not taking a bath, and I certainly recall guessing which girl had n0t taken a bath. There was a new food court in plans to challenge Brijwasi, putting my new found weight loss to test, a 15 KG miraculous loss was unsustainable few said. I remember me evolving from a small town slightly confused person, to an extrovert and loud, but still a confused person. Film club, cricket club, elections, cultural festival, joy, fights and sorrows, the second semester in DAIICT was about everything, other than studies.

    I remember that it was around this time that I started reading a lot. Past couple of years had been spent in flipping through thick volumes of PL Soni and Morrison and Boyds of the world, but it had still not killed my childhood passion of exploring books. More than gaining knowledge and killing time, reading at DAIICT was about walking together with a brilliant flock of students and faculty who also read a lot. I remember picking up classic fictions from friends, few biographies and short story collections from library, and also at times fiddling with Asimov and HG Wells after which I decided to stay away from Science Fiction as I found it slow-paced and inconclusive.

    It was during these times that I encountered Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings in my friend LKP’s hands. LKP (read la ka pa) always used to carry it around with pride and laziness. A torn book with yellow brittle pages and green cover had been a subject of two recent blockbuster movies and innumerable discussions (although nothing beats the amount of discussions on Matrix during that year) at hostel. Quite naturally I went ahead and borrowed the book.

    It was a slow start to the book, as I progressed I flipped back and forth to have gaze at the Elvish key and the map of middle earth. The initial journey and formation of the fellowship was still not arousing the level of interest I had expected.

    And then Chicken Pox happened.

    It had been spreading in the hostel, I got it, missed 4 weeks, missed the mid-terms, screwed my academics, who cares, this semester was not at all about studies.

    A lot of home-care, further weight loss, and few neem baths later I was back to college. I tried to get a grasp of the acads but they were too distant now. Trying to complete Frodo and the fellowship’s journey was of much more interest to me than exploring shortest path algorithm or breadth first search. So it was a week before the final exams that I picked up the book again.

    And then Viral Fever happened.

    The exam and its results are something which I don’t want to discuss. But over the next couple of months I went through an intriguing journey of discovering rural India and its tribal populace with one of my favorite professor and a bunch of inquisitive teenagers. Even during this period I read a lot and discussed my readings with friends and professor. After the rural internship and vacation I was back on campus again, the bright semester had started (somehow I felt, the odd semesters were always brighter and better, the even ones despite the fests were somehow marred by something or the other) and I decided to pick up the book again and start reading.

    And then conjunctivitis happened.

    People close to me know that I am a bit more than the usual superstitious fellow, and the next thing I did was to give the book back to LKP. A few months later I went ahead and saw the movies, and I have seen it hundreds of times since then admiring each and every piece of what Tolkien imagined and how Peter Jackson articulated his imagination. But it has been extremely difficult for me to order that book. In fact I have never dared to touch a copy of it again.

    The small yellow pencil, wearing a friend’s wrist watch, putting on the same jeans for each and every exam, the timing of a haircut, sitting at the same place or doing the matchstick trick during a cricket match, eating the same breakfast on important days, not drinking on certain days, scratching the forehead before an important meeting etc. etc.

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    Is it only me who is afraid of superstitions or do I have others around for company too?

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  • Block 83

    When you leave school for college, a million things run in your mind, staying away from your family for the first time, the kind of people you will end up meeting in college, who will be your roommate, will the newly earned freedom be at the cost of something etc etc.

    Cut back to 2002 when a few innocent souls stepped in dusty sec-7 of Gandhinagar, a Colonel with shiny bald head and a glowing moustache showing us the not so impressive facility, and curly haired friendly gujju guy showing us our rooms. We were nervous, most of us were accompanied by our parents who were equally concerned if not more.

    So I entered the wing on the 2nd floor, very jarjarr apartments, seemed like they will break down soon, decently sized one room apartments with wooden cupboards and loads of dust. First thing which most of us bought there were plastic buckets. My room mate was Kamsi Vrishna but he had moved out to some PG in Sec-2 looking at the hostel condition with Dagar Sas. So I was alone in the room.

    In front of us used to lived Kayur with pea-cockish hairstyle, always stuck onto the metal seat, his roomie Panabesh, sainik school import, reminded me initially a lot of the lafoots in townships :), front door had Ghaitanya and Saveen (famously known as Charra later on). Other inmates were Copolla a distant relative of the francis ford coppola khaandaan and an extremely religious guy in the first year , so was his roomie Gaibhav Vupta.

    Then there was my awesome roomie Sajeev, oily haired bespectacled simpleton from Vizag on his way to be a changed man (four years down the line…kaafi change :)), who escaped from the neighboring wing as his room mate was an abusive chap. He came in and we both got the honour of being each other’s roomies for the next four years.

    Then there was a quite room, of Jrateek and Pandheer, mostly busy educating themselves I assume, quite simple I was the least interested in padhai in the block.

    But then there were few whom were brainwashed by me, Jaran Kaine with his beautiful legs, Sajjwal Ungal with his already faded Pepe jeans (asking our hotel supervisor for happening places in gandhinagar), a self proclaimed rock music bhakt Krinal and Jineet Vain with his shaggy doo like walk and ability to call da as ra.

    Frequent visitors included Sabhishek who used to dance his hear out in the wing with Saveen ( and our neighboring old uncle almost had an heart attack due to the hulla), LKP for aalasya, Grasoon at times, Nand, the 82 block gang including gex suru tonu, mhinav abhishra, Kakshat etc. Also we had a lot of visitors in Panabesh’s room which included Jarun Vain, and all.

    Just thought would remember all of them today, lost contact with many of them, but awesome days they were.

  • The Times of Navratri- Edition 2

    Sometime in 2002, somewhere in Gujarat

    Hostel life, weird quizzes & scary electronics course make up my life nowadays. Although I am enjoying riding cycle daily to college and me and my roomie Sajeev have been losing weight, and lots of it. I enjoy programming, and lot of bak bak we do in hostels. But midterms are coming up.

    Bored by studies me and Prajjwal were thinking of only one thing, Navratri. Apart from my memories in childhood and Prajjwal’s quest of finding cool places in city another motivator was Vishal- our hostel supervisor. His story of condom sales spiking up 10 times during Dandiya season in Gujarat & all nooks and corners of building being occupied by couples doing you-know-what was enough to fuel… fuel us to goto Garba.

    So we tried to convince everyone, starting from our dear 83 block. Puneet & Krunal; the lovely legged Sainy, simple Sajeev, tanabesh & his peacocked roomie. Prajjwal asked a few girls, but given the midterm was on, no one was ready for it. So me and Prajjwal begin our journey towards the nearby Sector’s garba.

    Rs. 10 entry was well within our budgets, although it sounded insane to me that people paid for entering garba (of course later on I came to know about paying 1000 bucks for entering it J). As we entered it was a mix of nostalgia, teenage fantasies and bhakti bhavna all packed into one.

    Well we entered and kept on watching junta dancing, and we kept on watching and watching.

    Garba is the bestest form of dance ever I thought, and Prajjwal agreed, still trying to look for his favorite Dilli-ish girls. But he too lost interest and then we just immersed into the excitement of dance & music. We didn’t enter the arena, firstly we didn’t wear proper attire and secondly we were too shy to dance in front of these awesome performers.

    We were standing and we found our ever sweating- rock music loving- calculus prof. Nice Guy he is. So we chatted with Prof. Chatterjee on a zillion things. An awesome night where we were mesmerized by dance, the devotion for Devi Ma & and slightly disappointed at our Prof. not offering us a cold drink.

    And the initial thoughts, well in teenage days they are never gone, but still parked for sometime J

    2 years later

    Garba time in college, the arena is ready, guys dressed up in Kurta-Pyjama, girls shining in their traditional attire. That day most of them had taken a bath it seems ( a popular perception within my batch that like guys, even girls were lazy enough not to take a bath J) and sort of put some make up too. A rarity again J

    Well we danced and had loads of fun, this time it was post the midterms too.

    Few days later

    Chachu said, yeh ek aitihaasik kshaan hoga, jab hum Ravan ka dahan karenge. So all of us started from a few Bamboo frames, loads of Fevicol (everyone smelled of it that day), crackers and whole loads of masti constituted the process of making our college’s first ravan. Painted black and around 15 feet tall, it was constructed on the A-D wing junction and carried to the ground. The night was fun as the Ravan caught fire and Chachu set up his famous havan later.

    But us raat sab Pyaase hi soye the J

    Final Year

    Puneet still believed in the first year Vishal theory, and he insisted that during our final year we try out the Hot Shot Garba at Karnavati Club. For a Rs. 200 entry it was worth the no. of well tattoed backs we saw, and heard a 3rd/4th runner up Indian Idol singer. All of the city’s super rich were there and it seems lot of so called setting is done there. Still this one didnt beat the simple garba of sectors near our college.

    And Puneet still remains, well he remains… 🙂

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