Tag: India

  • Are you there?

    Are you there?

    Yes. I am.

    It has been more than a year since I wrote a blog post (or rather posted one). I have written quite a bit since last year but hardly anything has made it to this blog. This has been my longest break since I started the blog and it is strange considering there has been so much to write about.

    Last year and the part of this year  has brought about a number of changes- turning 30, adjusting to a married life, moving to U.S., learning how to drive, and getting used to change in working styles. It has also been about the usual stuff- travelling and eating interesting things, reading new stuff, having conversations on politics and sports, and trying out new things in kitchen.

    But it seems that day by day there is less to talk, and a even lesser number of people to talk with. I own a few more devices now than I did a year back, although I use them less than what I used to do. Is it the age catching up? Or is it just the lack of time? Or just a lack of motivation to pick up things of my interest and record them.

    Apart from the fact that my social life in U.S. has been a bit on the decline, the rest of the parameters have stayed the same. I have enjoyed the lakes, the forests, the occasional runs, the beautiful drives, and the snow. Yes the snow. New York has reminded me of Mumbai and Chicago of what Mumbai can never be. Disney brought out unlimited happiness in me, Niagara stunned me with its visuals, and Grand Canyon was a bit of a let down. Food in America has swung between greasy and over-healthy and “good” Indian restaurants have been hard to find. American History has intrigued me, from the museums in DC to Netflix documentaries to books on Civil War. Winter has charmed and shivered me in equal proportions, Fall was something I totally missed, and Summer seems like something that happened a long time ago. Right now I am just hoping that this winter slowly melts into summer again. And yes that is currently the only thing I wish for,

    And I have missed a lot of action back home, especially the experience of voting in the Lok Sabha elections last year and just talking about it a lot. I have developed appreciation for Ravish Kumar’s reporting on NDTV India and have stopped watching the noisy debates of Arnab totally.

    Between all this what has kept me engaged has been my attempts to perfect my Indian cooking. As my wife says there is a difference between being someone who likes to cook occasionally vs. someone who has to cook daily. It is a big challenge to cook daily. It is more difficult to keep your Daal interesting on a day-to-day basis than rolling the perfect Pizza (which I have tried too). As I learn the art of tinkering with the daily recipes, without altering their simple nature, I do indulge a bit of special cooking from time to time.

    Here is a recipe for one dish which reminds me of some awesome drinking / talking sessions at Raj Palace, and something which I prepare for a respite from the usual routine food.

    Recipe: Egg Biryani

    Ingredients:
    * Hardboiled eggs
    * Rice (Cooked, but shouldn’t be overcooked)
    * Whole Garam Masala (Cloves, Cardamon, Cinnamon, Bay Leaves etc.)
    * Onions and tomatoes
    * Regular masalas from Kitchen

    Put some oil in pan. Add few drops of ghee in it. Put thinly sliced onion in it. Fry till they are nice and brown. Bring them to the sides and keep it in pan, don’t mix with oil.
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    Add Jeera and whole garam masala in oil ghee in pan. I added cloves, cardamon, bayleaf and cinnamon. You can consider adding few others of your choice.

    Then add green chillies, ginger-garlic paste, and some ginger julienne. Add tomato paste and a bit of water. Pull in a few fried onions from the side and mix in it. Not all. We want the onions to be separate and not mash in like a paste.

    Once masala is ready add eggs. Then add rice and mix it gently. Add a bit of coriander.
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    Serve with Papad and Raita.

    Best enjoyed with Old Monk and Thums Up.

    Note: Just to be clear, my wife does most of the cooking but I do end up doing a bit too 🙂

  • Recalling Indian Coffee House

    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.

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    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.

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    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?

    Their place is sealed in my memories, forever.

    With inputs from Amey.

  • Spicy Hot Summer, Served With Buffalo Dip

    There are summers, and then there is that idiotic summer.

    I was interning with an organization studying tribal arts in the Rathwa tribe dominated Chota Udaipur region of Gujarat. In a constantly sweltering Sun, which was seldom in mood to bend itself below 45 odd degrees, we roamed across villages exploring styles of Pithora Paintings and scouting opportunities to work on other tribal art forms.

    There are summers, and then there is that romantic summer.

    I remember squeezing out time to go through multiple books at the same time. I fell in love with Arwen from Lord of the Rings and the landscapes of Shire as described by Tolkien, before the book eventually consumed me. I fell in love with villages, with the way Indians lived, took pride in our deep heritage and diverse art forms, and developed a significant admiration for tribal women with their shiny skin and confident demeanor.

    There are summers, and then there is that delicious summer.

    From the 10 year old kid who took me behind his hut at night to mix Gin for me in a earthen pot, to the old uncle who showed me the distillation process for Mahua made liquor, I discovered the existence of Alcohol. I remember taking the first sip, and it was hot, as hot as the Sun on top, it burned my food pipe for a second, but left a deliciously hot aftertaste. Then there was my new found addiction for soft-drinks (the one I always regretted), to unbelievably and brightly colorful Re. 1 shaved-ice candies, popularly termed Jaundice flavored candies by my Professor. But the taste which stayed for me forever was having Huge Makai Rotlas (Maize-Flour Bread, almost 10 inches in diameter), served with spicy hot red-chili garlic dry chutney.

    There are summers, and there is the one that comes alive.

    “You look like a Yamraj”, my friend shouted.

    “I am one, bwhahahaha”, I replied.

    Here I was on one of those idiotic summer days sitting comfortably on a buffalo-back, rekindling my romance with my sense of freedom, with a couple of delicious drops of water flying from the pond and vaporizing of my parched tongue.

    Earlier in the day we had helped our host in the village with some clean-up of his house and then offered to help him take his buffalos for a cleanup. But as I cleaned the buffalos in the village nahar, I slowly soaked in the mood, and didn’t even realize when it became a little adventure involving me and my friend, our host’s son, his friends and the friendly buffalos. We all took a dip in the small pool which had formed at the side of the village stream, saving ourselves from the occasional burst of energy by the head banging buffalos. It was even better with them laying in pool with us climbing on backs, playing “desi” cowboys, or enacting Yamraj and feeling awesome about acting stupidly.

    And suddenly in that one moment everything I did that summer came together, all those images of intense summer heat, beautiful paintings, the earthen pot distillation unit, that spicy chili garlic chutney. And my summer came to life, with a bit of spice, and lovely Buffalo dip.

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    Have you ever gone dipping with Buffaloes in a village pond? Or Elephants, maybe?

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  • थम सा गया ये देश.

    दिशाहीन, उलझा सा, असमंजस से जूझता हुआ,
    मेरा देश ऐसा तो न था.

    घोटालो से चरमराया विश्वास,
    लोकतंत्र का बना मज़ाक.
    अर्थव्यवस्था की चरमरायी सी हालत,
    जाति-धर्म के अनसुलझे विवाद,
    क्या मेरा देश ऐसा ही था?

    पर इन सब के बीच कम से कम एक आशा थी,
    की कुछ बदलेगा,
    सामाजिक और आर्थिक विकास नहीं,
    तो कम से कम होगा जनता का नैतिक विकास.

    लेकिन किसे पता था थमेगी बढ़ने की चाह,
    और उठेगा लोकतान्त्रिक संस्थानों में विश्वास,
    मेरा देश ऐसा तो न था.

    प्रतिदिन समाचारों से मिली निराशा,
    और देश के नेताओं की मुह से निकली भाषा.
    डर सा लगता है अब मुझे इस देश के बारे में सोच के,
    थक से गए है हम,
    और थम सा गया है यह देश.

    -अभिषेक ‘देसी’ देशपांडे

  • We are what we eat and whom we meet.

    How about listening to locals talking about their life and aspirations while sipping a chai and dipping a Parle-G; or sharing a drink with an unknown traveler listening to their experiences; or cooking meals in someone’s kitchen creating chatpate menus; or weaving sari with a local weaver; or gobbling those lovely cutlets on Indian Railways while chatting with the most known strangers; or just covering the entire length of the country in a month, away from the weekly routine of working and waiting for weekends? Sounds decently interesting? Just a bit of what my India, or desh will be like for the next month.

    For a month, I will be traveling across the country, biting my way through local cuisines and eating the brains out of all the adorable people I meet. It excites me as I get to do what pleases me the most, eating, learning, writing, and above all talking to people.

    Ironically I have a much organized and clear plan for the chaotic Northern India, and a much more random one for the prim and proper Southern India. Half my tickets are booked, none of my stays are planned, and I am still to figure out of use a DSLR which my sister is lending me for a month. But most importantly I have planned what I intend to taste at each location and the kind of people I want to meet.

    There are few people who have inspired me a lot recently, most notably Paul Theroux and his travel stories captured in The Great Railway Bazaar, and few travel writers but most notably a girl named Shivya and her writings at The Shooting Star.

    I will be crossing most of the following cities on my travel, in case you happen to be in any one of them would be glad to catchup. The list includes: Varanasi, Agra, Mathura, Delhi, Shimla, Punjab (Amritsar, Chandigarh, Ludhiana), Bangalore, Pondicherry, Coonur, Kochi, Kannur, Bekal, Mangalore, Goa and Mumbai.

    To follow all the updates from my trip please keep visiting the blog, like the Facebook page, or follow @desh on twitter.

    Featured image by Ankit Varshneya.