Friday, September 22, 2006

Lamington

LAMINGTON AT SPICER
( a melt in the mouth treat )
By
VIKRAM KARVE


In the evening I often go for a walk on Aundh Road from Bremen Chowk towards the railway line at Khadki. It’s one of the best places to walk in Pune, wide roads with plenty of greenery and foliage on both sides. And on my way back I treat myself with a Lamington at the Spicer College Bakery Shop. I delicately place the soft delicacy between my lips, press and squeeze a piece of the wonderful stuff on my tongue. I close my eyes in order to enhance the experience of supreme bliss as the Lamington melts in my mouth and the chocolatty-coconutty luscious syrupy sweetness permeates into me.

A Lamington is a delicious cube of sponge cake, dipped in melted chocolate and sugar and coated in desiccated coconut. They originated in Australia around 1898 in what later became the state of Queensland. Whilst the origin of the name for the Lamington cannot be accurately established, there are several theories.

Lamingtons are most likely named after Charles Baillie, 2nd Baron Lamington, who served as Governor of Queensland from 1896 to 1901. However, the precise reasoning behind this is not known, and stories vary. According to one account, the dessert resembled the homburg hats favoured by Lord Lamington. Another tells of a banquet in Cloncurry during which the governor accidentally dropped a block of sponge cake into a dish of gravy, and then threw it over his shoulder, causing it to land in a bowl of desiccated coconut or peanut butter. A diner thought of replacing the gravy with chocolate and thus created the lamington as we know it today. Ironically, Lord Lamington was known to have hated the dessert that had been named in his honour, once referring to them as "those bloody poofy woolly biscuits". Another theory is that they were named after Lady Lamington, the wife of the Governor.


The Spicer College Bakery Lamington is my favourite – and can you imagine it costs just Eight Rupees [that’s six Lamingtons for a Dollar, for those who think in Dollars!]. The chocolate icing keeps the cake moist. The desiccated coconut protects it from drying out in the hot climate. And it’s quite a juicy generous lip-smacking treat!

The Spicer College Bakery serves a variety of healthy goodies like carrot cake, nut cake, doughnuts, samosas, soy patties, soya milk; but, for me, it’s always the yummy succulent Lamington!


VIKRAM KARVE
vikramkarve@sify.com

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Mouthwatering Memories by Vikram Karve

MOUTHWATERING MEMORIES
[ Idiappam and Chilli Chicken at Ceylon Bake House ]
By
VIKRAM KARVE


The last time I visited Ceylon Bake House off MG Road near Jos Junction in Ernakulam [ Kochi, then Cochin ] was almost a decade ago in 1987, but the nostalgic lip smacking gastronomic experience of Idiappam and Chili Chicken still delightfully lingers within me, and instantly makes my mouth water, so I hark back, reflect, reminisce and I write this from my memory. The place may have undergone a transformation now, maybe even metamorphosed into a highfalutin snobbish restaurant (I hope not!) but I recall Ceylon Bake House as a down-to-earth Value-For-Money eatery for authentic Kerala cuisine in Kochi. I wonder why it was called a “Bake House”!

It was an unpretentious place, but so popular that it was always bustling and crowded even past midnight. My favourite food here is the Idiappam and Chilli Chicken – I love eating the noodle-like rice-based soft and steaming Idiappams along with the zesty reddish Chilli Chicken, as the contrasting tastes sizzle, mingle, blend and marry on my tongue. I felt revitalized and recharged after every bite of the delicious combination.

I also liked the Fish Curry, Veg and Non-Veg Stews, Biryanis, Roasts, Kormas; Veg, Egg and Non-Veg Curries, and, not to forget, the heavenly yummy Malabar Parottas served at Ceylon Bake House.

If you are in Kochi, have a meal at Ceylon Bake House, and do let me know whether it is still the same old down-to-earth value for money authentic Kerala cuisine eatery it once was, or has it changed! And can someone please tell me where to find good Kerala cuisine in Pune.


VIKRAM KARVE

vikramkarve@sify.com

Ernakulam Food walk

MOUTHWATERING MEMORIES
[ Idiappam and Chilli Chicken at Ceylon Bake House ]
By
VIKRAM KARVE


The last time I visited Ceylon Bake House off MG Road near Jos Junction in Ernakulam [ Kochi, then Cochin ] was almost a decade ago in 1987, but the nostalgic lip smacking gastronomic experience of Idiappam and Chili Chicken still delightfully lingers within me, and instantly makes my mouth water, so I hark back, reflect, reminisce and I write this from my memory. The place may have undergone a transformation now, maybe even metamorphosed into a highfalutin snobbish restaurant (I hope not!) but I recall Ceylon Bake House as a down-to-earth Value-For-Money eatery for authentic Kerala cuisine in Kochi. I wonder why it was called a “Bake House”!

It was an unpretentious place, but so popular that it was always bustling and crowded even past midnight. My favourite food here is the Idiappam and Chilli Chicken – I love eating the noodle-like rice-based soft and steaming Idiappams along with the zesty reddish Chilli Chicken, as the contrasting tastes sizzle, mingle, blend and marry on my tongue. I felt revitalized and recharged after every bite of the delicious combination.

I also liked the Fish Curry, Veg and Non-Veg Stews, Biryanis, Roasts, Kormas; Veg, Egg and Non-Veg Curries, and, not to forget, the heavenly yummy Malabar Parottas served at Ceylon Bake House.

If you are in Kochi, have a meal at Ceylon Bake House, and do let me know whether it is still the same old down-to-earth value for money authentic Kerala cuisine eatery it once was, or has it changed! And can someone please tell me where to find good Kerala cuisine in Pune.


VIKRAM KARVE

vikramkarve@sify.com

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

KACHORI

MY FAVORITE FAST FOOD
By
VIKRAM KARVE


My wife observes and indulges in (and consequently subjects me to) all types of fasts. She fasts on Mondays, Chaturthies and any occasion she wants to fast. Actually, her “fasts” are not true fasts in the rigorous real sense, only a change of food, to what I call “fast food” which is quite delicious and maybe a bit more calorie-rich than normal food (that’s the “fast food” I’m referring to, not the burgers and pizza you thought!).

My favorite fast food is the Kachori. No! No! It’s not the scrumptious Rajasthani style lip-smacking Khasta Kachori I’m referring to, but the Sweet Kachori served by most Udipi eateries in and around Mumbai and Pune.

Take boiled mashed potato, add a bit of sabudana peeth (sago flour) for binding, a pinch of salt and sugar and knead into a dough.

Roast fresh juicy grated coconut with sugar, khus khus, dry fruit like raisins, cashews, till it is nice and crispy “khamang” – and your filling is ready.
You must roast in pure ghee, as oil is not permitted on a “fast”.

Make largish round patties with the potato dough on the outside and a generous portion of the roasted sweet coconut filling inside and deep fry till nicely crusty, crisp and light brown and your sweet kachori is done (fast and simple isn’t it?).

Serve with a katori of whipped sweet curds and your “fast food” is ready to eat.

You will be tempted to break a piece of Kachori, dip it in the curds and then eat it – don’t do it, that’s not the right way to eat sweet kachori and you’ll ruin the experience as the concoction will turn soggy. What you must do is to place a chunk of crisp hot kachori on your tongue and close your eyes. Now savor the “khamang” crunchy taste of the lively roasted coconut filling for some time, then press your tongue on your palate and roll till the heavenly sweet filling and the crisp potato covering amalgamate. It’s really yummy!

Now is the time to pop in a spoon of sweet curds, and let the feisty assortment of flavors dance and mingle on your tongue till the food dissolves in your mouth and disappears into you giving you a feeling of supreme satisfaction. [I once saw a movie called “Blow Hot Blow Cold” in the seventies – the art of eating a sweet kachori is similar: hot and cold, hot and cold, crunchy and soft, crunchy and soft, sweet and sour, sweet and sour!].

I first tasted the sweet kachori at a place called Apsara near Hirabaug on Tilak Road in Pune. It’s still my favorite. Vihar, at Churchgate in Mumbai, serves an excellent sweet kachori too; and I’m sure you’ll find it on the menu of almost all Udipi restaurants.

So next time you want to relish your “fast” you know which “fast food” to eat, in addition to the usual sabudana khichadi, sabudana wade and ratalyacha kees.

Happy fasting!


VIKRAM KARVE
vikramkarve@sify.com

Friday, September 08, 2006

Berry Pulao

Berry Pulao in Pune
By
Vikram Karve


I’m feeling good. It’s four in the evening and I’ve just polished off a delicious Berry Pulao in Pune. Words cannot describe my state of supreme contentment and blissful non-alcoholic intoxication as I sit down to write this for you.

Berry Pulao in Pune? Not possible! There’s only one place in India where you get Berry Pulao and that’s Britannia Restaurant in Ballard Estate Mumbai. I read somewhere; Busybee, I think, who wrote – “If it’s Berry Pulao, it must be Britannia”.

That’s right. The Berry Pulao I relished just a few moments ago, was indeed from Britannia – my friend Sanjiv just drove down from Mumbai with a mutton berry pulao nicely packed in Britannia’s containers with the restaurant’s motto written on top: There is no greater love than the love of eating.

Dear fellow Foodie – if you’ve eaten and relished Berry Pulao at Britannia, my words will not be adequate to describe the unique gastronomic experience you’ve had. If you haven’t, read on.

The Mutton Berry Pulao looks good. A base of aromatic yellowish-orange basmati rice, topped with kababs, crisp reddish-brown strips of fried onions, fried cashew nuts, and, of course, the dark red berries. I start of with a tiny sweet and sour berry to stimulate my tongue and then pick out a kabab from the top layer of the pulao, pop it on my tongue, close mouth and my eyes, press the soft meat between my tongue and palate, roll it, let it disintegrate and savor the heavenly flavor; my appetite whetted, I feel so ravenous, that I just can’t wait to devour the delicacy in front of me. But I am not going to “devour” the pulao greedily, but do full justice to my favorite pulao by eating it mindfully. “Mindful eating”: that’s the art of eating, with all your senses fully focused inwards to derive total epicurean pleasure.

The mutton, the kababs as well as the generous chunks of well marinated and superbly cooked pieces of prime meat, is boneless. The mouthwatering succulent pieces of mutton, substantial in size, are soft and tender, and taste delicious and satisfying. The soft spicy kababs are nice and zesty. The basmati rice is fragrant and tasty. The cashew nuts crisp. And, of course, the sweetish taste of the fried onions combining with the sweet and sour tang of the berries. The berry pulao is indeed a heavenly medley of the choice ingredients, blending the symbiosis of tastes, fusion of flavors and bouquet of fragrances. In its entirety, relishing a Berry Pulao is a matchless epicurean experience.

Many a greasy and spicy “Biryanis” and “Pulaos” leave you feeling heavy, acidic in the stomach, hot and bitterish in your throat and with a tartish feeling on your tongue.

The proof of the pudding is in the eating; the proof of a pulao or biryani is in its aftertaste. It’s that lovely wispy aftertaste that makes Berry Pulao my favorite. Maybe that’s the secret of the “berries”.

Dear reader. What are you waiting for? If you are in Mumbai, head for Britannia and have a hearty lunch. (It closes in the evenings, I think). When I was in Mumbai, I’ve had many a “working” lunches there as I worked nearby. Now I have to depend on friends likes Sanjiv to drop a berry pulao at my house on the way back from their frequent drives to Mumbai. And if you are not in Mumbai, you know where to go whenever you’re there. Till then keep reading this and enjoy this delectable dish vicariously in you mind’s eye.

Bye the way, can someone tell me the difference between a Biryani and a Pulao? Of course, I know the answer – just trying to cross-check!

Next, I’m going to write about my favorite Biryanis. Till then –
Happy Eating!


VIKRAM KARVE
vikramkarve@sify.com

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Do Piaza in Aundh

Do Piaza in Aundh
(food review – Seasons, Aundh, Pune)
By
Vikram Karve


Last Saturday I was invited for a party in the new Seasons Hotel at Aundh in Pune. It was a cozy get-together in the lovely banquet hall on the first floor, and as we headed for the buffet table I was delighted to find Gosht (Mutton) Do Piaza on the menu.

If you want a first impression of a restaurant that serves Mughlai cuisine order a “Do Piaza” and it will give you an idea of the standard of Mughlai food you can expect there. Indeed Do Piaza may be considered the benchmark to assess and evaluate a Mughlai restaurant.

Do Piaza means “two onions’ or rather double onions. Legend has it that this delicious dish was invented by Mullah Do-Piaza the renowned and celebrated cook at the Mughal Emperor Akbar’s court. One of the Navratnas (nine jewels), it is said he could conjure up culinary delights using only two onions, and cooked in that particular style is called Gosht Do Piaza.

Water is not used at all when cooking a Do Piaza. Onions are used twice – hence the name “Do” or “Two” Piaza.

First marinate the Gosht or meat (Mutton or Chicken, though a true Do Piaza is of Mutton) thoroughly in spices and curds.

The marinated meat is then liberally layered with onion rings, the vessel covered with a tight lid, and the meat allowed to cook in its own juices and those released by the onions on a slow fire, till the onions are reduced to pulp. ( the“first’ piaza).

In another pan, fry sliced onions (the “second” piaza) till crisp brown with ginger, garlic, bay leaf and add tomatoes, stir, and when reduced to a pulp, add the cooked meat in onion rings from the first pot, and stir fry till well browned and the gravy thick, squeeze a lemon, garnish with coriander and your Gosht Do Piaza is ready. Remember, don’t add water at any stage or you will ruin the dish.

Now back to the Gosht Do Piaza I ate at Seasons. It looked good – nicely browned generous pieces of succulent mutton, in translucent juicy onion rings in a scrumptious gravy. It smelt good too – the mouthwatering aroma wafting towards me. It tasted even better – absolutely delicious, not spicy hot, the unique sweetish zest of onions discernible, as the heavenly medley of flavors and fragrances synergized inside me. Relished with soft tandoori roti, it was sheer bliss.

The other dishes were good too. Especially the grilled fish in lemon sauce and mint potatoes, the paneer masala and the Dum Aloo. (The dessert comprising Gulab Jamuns and whipped cream was out of place – a kulfi or falooda would have been ideal after the do piaza).

I shall always cherish the cozy evening and memorable dinner in excellent company and wonderful ambience. The delectable juicy taste of the superb Gosht Do Piaza will linger within me for a long long time and my mouth will always water in anticipation every time I pass by the Seasons Hotel on my evening walks in Aundh.


VIKRAM KARVE

vikramkarve@sify.com

Friday, August 25, 2006

Food walk - Kerala Cuisine in the heart of Mumbai

FOUNTAIN PLAZA
(KERALA CUISINE IN THE HEART OF MUMBAI)

(Food review by Vikram Karve)


If you happen to be in Fort area of Mumbai, are famished and hungry for a sumptuous lunch, and in a mood for Kerala cuisine, try Fountain Plaza. There a number of eateries who derive their names from the erstwhile Flora Fountain (now Hutatma Chowk) and I’m not referring to the more famous Fountain Restaurant opposite HSBC Bank which is a Sizzler and Steak place, or Fountain Inn, the Mangalorean seafood eatery in Nanabhai Lane. I am referring to Hotel Fountain Plaza, on RD Street off DN Road, near Handloom House next to Eastern Watch Company, my favorite Kerala Cuisine restaurant in south Mumbai.

There is plenty to choose from – Fish, Chicken and Mutton, not much a choice for vegetarians, except in the snacks department, which you can try at “Tiffin Time” in the evenings.

To start off, I like the Fish Curry in white coconut gravy with Malabari Paratha (Parota) with a fried Pomfret on the side. I pop a piece of the succulent fish on my tongue, followed by a generously soaked portion of the soft paratha in the delicious rich gravy, close my eyes, and press the juicy food between my tongue and palate. Never bite, just press the tongue upwards against your palate and savor the heavenly taste as the fish disintegrates releasing the delicious juices and spicy flavor.

Next I order a Chicken Korma ( the Chicken Stew is good too) with Appams and then have my favorite Malabari style Mutton Biryani.

There are a large number of dishes on the menu including Chinese and “Mughlai”, but at Fountain Plaza it’s better to focus on Kerala Cuisine.

If you are heading home in the evening, stop by for tiffin, and enjoy an evening ‘banana based’ snack like banana roast, banana fry, banana bonda etc which are the specialty of the place with a cup of tea or coffee.

I like Fountain Plaza. A no-nonsense Spartan eatery. Mouthwatering food. Nourishing snacks. Lip smacking gravies. Satiating meals. Value For Money eating.

Next time you are in Fort, Mumbai, give the place a try, and let me know if you liked it.


VIKRAM KARVE

vikramkarve@sify.com

Friday, May 26, 2006

Heritage Cuisine

HERITAGE CUISINE
Lavang Lata at Babumosai

By

VIKRAM KARVE



“Heritage Cuisine” – sounds good isn’t it?

You may presume that this pompous term refers to pretentious traditional high-brow cuisine which adorns the tables of the classes!

In my vocabulary “heritage cuisine” is high-falutin gobbledygook for simple staple down-to-earth local street-food relished by the masses. Like Vada Pav (Mumbai’s “Heritage Burger”), or Puneri Misal, or Kulcha Chole, Katchi Dabeli, Bhel, Kathi Kababs, Baida Roti, Malpua – the list is endless.

There is a delicious sweetmeat called “Lavang Lata” which I tasted for the first time and relished piping hot at Pehelwan’s at the end of Lanka near BHU in Varanasi in the seventies. A cool Lassi ( in winter) or warm milk (in summer), both with dollops of rabdi added, topped up the gastronomic experience.

Later, in the eighties, I came across slightly different versions of Lavang Lata at various eateries, most notably Nathu at Bengali market in New Delhi. But these versions were nowhere close to Pehelwan’s Banarasi Lavang Lata.

Just imagine my surprise, when, during my walk last evening, I chanced upon a delectable Lavang Lata in an out-of-the-way unpretentious sweet shop called ‘Babumosai Bengali Sweets’ tucked away almost in obscurity, way off the beaten track, on Aundh Road on the way to Khadki in Pune.

Actually I was in search of Rasgullas. (Roshogollas, if you want it spelt that way). Having relocated from a ‘happening’ place like Churchgate in the heart of Mumbai to an obscure “back of the beyond” desolate place somewhere in the jungles on the banks of Mula river between Aundh and Sangvi, craving and wandering desperately in my search for ‘heritage food’, I hit the Aundh road past Spicer College towards Khadki, enjoying a refreshing walk between the expanse of the verdant Botanical Gardens and the foliage of Pune University, when in the first building I encountered on my left, I saw a nondescript signboard “Babumosai Bengali Sweets” (maybe the spelling ought to be ‘Babumoshai’) atop a deserted lackluster sweetshop.

There was no one in the shop and the lifeless atmosphere and uninspiring display almost put me off. But having come so far, I decided to give it a try and looked at the sweets on display in trays behind a glass counter - Rasgullas, Sandesh, Rajbhog, Gulab Jamuns, Malai Sandwiches - the ubiquitous ‘Bengali Sweets’; and suddenly a man came out carrying a tray of piping hot Lavang Latas, the very sight of which made my mouth water so much that I ordered one immediately.

I walked outside the shop, stood in the cool evening air, took a small bite of the Lavang Lata, rolled the syrupy hot piece on my eager salivated tongue and closed my eyes in order to enhance my gustatory experience.

I pressed the Lavang Lata upwards with my tongue against the palate, the roof of my mouth, and slowly it disintegrated releasing its heavenly flavour of nutmeg and cardamom. That’s the way you should enjoy Bengali sweetmeats – never bite, swallow and devour in a hurry. Don’t use your teeth; slowly, very slowly, just roll on your tongue and lightly press on the roof of your mouth till the delicacy melts releasing its luxurious flavour and divine fragrance into your gustatory and olfactory systems. And remember, keep your eyes closed, shut yourself to the outside world, focus on your tongue, internalize the experience and transcend to a state of delightful ecstasy, till you feel you are in seventh heaven. That’s the art of eating.

The Lavang Lata is perfect. Not sickly sweet, but tantalizingly tasty, with the subtle essence of its ingredients and seasoning coming through. The rabri and khoya, the raisins and dry fruits, the crispy sweet crust, the spices and most importantly, the exotic fortifying and stimulating taste of clove. It’s sheer bliss. The invigorating taste lingers on my tongue for a long long time , as if for eternity.

Just writing this is making my mouth water. And I am rushing to “Babumosai” once more – this time to sample the Rasgullas, maybe the Sandesh – and I’ll tell you all about it right here.

And I’ll keep writing about all the my experiences with “Heritage Cuisine” and the art of eating.

Dear fellow Foodie - do let me know if you enjoyed reading this.


VIKRAM KARVE

vikramkarve@sify.com

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

The Art of Eating Green Chilli Ice Cream by Vikram Karve

THE ART OF EATING GREEN CHILLI ICE CREAM
by
VIKRAM KARVE

I’ve just relished a bowl of “green chilli ice cream” and the zestful taste still lingers on my tongue. Never before had I enjoyed eating ice cream so much. It was indeed a unique gustatory experience. Let me tell you about it.
I love ice cream. Today morning a friend of mine told me that there is a place opposite the Mumbai Chowpatty Sea Face that serves “green chilli” ice cream. I didn’t believe him. I have savored myriad flavours of ice cream but “green chilli ice cream” seemed a bit far fetched. On questioning, my friend confessed that he had only heard about it, not eaten it himself.
The very concept of green chilli ice cream whetted my curiosity so much that at sunset I was standing in front of Bachelorr’s ( that’s the spelling on the menu card) Ice Cream and Juice Stall, my appetite fully stimulated by a long brisk walk.
It was there on the menu card – Green Chilli Ice Cream. I ordered it and walked with the bowl to a lonely bench nearby to enjoy the eating experience in glorious solitude.
The ice cream looks a creamy pink ( not chilli green as I had expected it to be). I close my eyes and smell the ice cream – a nice sweet milky fragrance, a bit fruity; certainly no trace of the piquant penetrating sting of chillies. I spoon a bit on my tongue. My taste buds are smothered by a sweet mellifluous sensation as the cold creamy ice cream starts melting on my tongue. I am disappointed, feel conned – it seems it was just hype. This is run of the mill stuff. Or is it? Wait a moment. As the ice cream melts away I suddenly feel a sharp piercing fiery taste that sizzles my tongue, stings through my nose and penetrates my brain. My tongue is on fire and, like instant firefighting, I instinctively spoon a blob of ice cream onto my tongue. The cool ice cream quenches my burning tongue with its almost ambrosial taste but the moment it melts away I am zipped like a rocket with the sharp punch of the green chillies.
So that was the art of eating green chilli ice cream. Hot and cold. Burn and quench. Sting and soothe. Contrasting sensations. Like alternating current. Sharp tangy kicks burning through the cool syrupy sweetness till your system is fully perked up. And a trace of the biting flavour of the green chilli remains within me for a long long time as I walk away.
Green chilli ice cream doesn’t satiate – it excites, gives you a “kick”, zests you up. Try it. And let me know if you liked it.

VIKRAM KARVE

vikramkarve@sify.com
vikramkarve@hotmail.com