QUBANI KA MEETHA IN PUNE
By
VIKRAM KARVE
What’s the perfect ending to a rich and spicy Mughlai meal? A cool soothing Falooda, perhaps!
And after fiery Kolhapuri fare? A chilled Mastani, maybe, to quench the fires within!
And do you know what the ideal finale to a Hyderabadi Biryani repast is? It is a unique refreshing apricot-based sweet-dish dessert called Qubani Ka Meetha, or Khubani Ka Meetha, spell it whichever way you like. And you get it only in Hyderabad. That’s what I thought, till yesterday afternoon, when famished after a tiring bout of shopping on Main Street, I entered my all time favorite eatery, George Restaurant on East Street, and spotted on the “Today’s Special” menu board, written as the last item – Qubani Ka Meetha.
Now first a bit about George “The House of Quality Food, since 1936” – as the logo says. When I was small boy, in the 1960’s and 1970’s, once in a while, my father used to bring us for a meal to East Street in Pune Camp, to Kamling for Chinese, or Latif or Kwality for Mughlai, and after our meal we always had a meetha paan at George Paanwala at the entrance to George Restaurant. I used to peer inside to see the animated expressions of the hungry hoi-polloi patrons vigorously devouring their food, and yearn to taste the fare, but it was only in the late 1970’s that I became a regular patron and began to savor the mouthwatering cuisine served at George. Since then, there has been a remarkable metamorphosis in the ambiance and variety of cuisine and George has transformed into a decent affordable family restaurant.
Having decided to end my meal with the legendary Hyderabadi dessert Qubani Ka Meetha, I ordered a Mutton Biryani to pave the way. Well, the Biryani at George is first-rate, but not as superb as those I have tasted in Hyderabad, or even as good as that served by Olympia or Shalimar in Mumbai, or Dorabjee, Blue Nile, or Good Luck in Pune. It certainly passed the spread-test with flying colours, and tasted wholesome, maybe, a wee bit bland. Now-a-days, I’d rather savor the inimitable tender succulent Rotisserie Chicken, a Mix-Grill, a Roast, or a Mughlai Gravy dish with Naan, at George, but right now I focus on mindfully relishing the Biryani in front of me, enjoying every morsel.
The Qubani Ka Meetha, or Khubani Ka Meetha, is served. I lovingly caress the bowl – it’s nicely chilled. They’ve put a dollop of vanilla ice cream on top. I wish they’d served it with chilled freshly whipped cream [malai] as they do in Hyderabad. I push aside the ice cream, dig deep, scoop some of the darkish brown dessert on my tongue, and close my eyes as the luscious tang, sublime flavor and invigorating aroma of the apricots permeates within me. [Qubani, or Khubani, means Apricots or Jardaloo]. Something tickles my taste buds – it’s a pistachio nut – delectable as it disintegrates and releases its characteristic taste and the contrasting flavors mingle on my tongue. I blend in a bit of vanilla ice cream, and slowly and deliberately, relish every bit of the ambrosial Qubani Ka Meetha as it glides on my tongue. Today I’m not going to have a Paan, for I’ve had an ideal end to a delicious meal.
Dear fellow Foodies, please do let us know if you know any places in your town where one can relish this splendid legendary Hyderabadi dessert – Qubani Ka Meetha.
VIKRAM KARVE
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com
vikramkarve@sify.com
Monday, May 21, 2007
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Food Walk in Pune
FOOTLOOSE IN PUNE
[The Art of Loafing]
by
VIKRAM KARVE
What is ‘loafing’?
Idling away one’s time on useless things?
Aimless loitering?
Loitering! Sounds a bit derogatory, isn’t it? Okay let’s say it’s aimless wandering. Perfectly useless time spent in a perfectly useless manner! Yes. That’s how I would like to define the art of loafing. Spending perfectly useless time in a perfectly useless manner!
That’s what I did a few days back. I loafed. I spent a perfectly useless day in a perfectly useless manner – Loafing. Let me tell you about it.
It’s a beautiful morning. I try to furtively slip out of my house unnoticed, but I am stopped in my tracks by my wife’s piercing voice, “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know?” I answer truthfully, and this adroit answer probably precludes the next question she is about to ask, “What time are you coming back?” for she knows I will again truthfully answer, “I don’t know.”
“Take the mobile with you,” she shouts, but I pretend not to hear and make myself scarce and disappear as fast as possible for I do not want the manacles of technology to ruin my day. If you want to truly enjoy life – beware of the technology trap!
It’s a bright day. I feel good. Flush with a sense of carefree irresponsibility, I walk with a spring in my step. I am going to enjoy my leisure.
Should I turn left? Should I turn right? I was free. Free to go wherever I desired. Free. To enjoy my day as I wanted. True freedom. To travel with no destination to reach. No task to complete. No deadlines to meet. Just Loaf. Aimlessly. Timelessly. Spend a perfectly useless day in a perfectly useless manner.
I see a bus, stop it and hop in.
“Where do you want to go?” the conductor asks.
“Where does this bus go?” I ask.
“Pune Railway Station.”
“Okay. One Pune Railway Station,” I say holding out a tenner.
The conductor gives me an amused look and hands me a ticket and a rupee coin. I sit down, think interesting thoughts and enjoy the view through the window. On these trips of mine I prefer traveling by bus and, of course, I love to walk on foot. Driving my car on the terrible potholed, crowded and chaotic roads of Pune makes me go crazy, and, at my age, I dare not venture out too far on my scooter, lest I land up with broken bones in hospital or, worse, lifeless in Vaikunth or Kailas crematoriums!
That’s what I sometimes do on these glorious trips of mine. Just jump into the first bus that comes along and let it take you wherever it goes. Go where life leads you. Last time I landed up in the heart of Pune – near Shaniwar Wada. In Mumbai, Kolkata, Chennai and Delhi it’s even more exciting, as there are so many more routes and choices, and you can serendipitously explore so many novel and exotic places you wouldn’t dream of going to otherwise.
The PCMT bus reaches the Railway Station. It’s a smooth ride. (PCMT buses seem to be better than PMT buses!).
I get down and admire the magnificent heritage stone building of Pune Railway Station. I stand in the porch and look inside. Trains, crowds – I love the atmosphere. On impulse, I enter, and stroll on the platform, panning my gaze all over, and stopping once in a while to feast my eyes on any attractive object that arrests my attention.
“Want a seat?” a porter asks.
“No,” I say.
“Where are you going?” he pursues.
“Nowhere,” I say.
“Waiting for someone,” he asks, probably in anticipation of porterage.
“No,” I say.
He stares at me for a moment and walks off with a look of perplexed dejection. I look around. Everyone is waiting to go somewhere, or for someone. I am waiting to go nowhere, and for nobody. So I walk out of the station and head for Shiv Kailash Milk Bar bang opposite.
If you arrive at Pune by train on a hot morning, never make the blunder of heading for the rickshaw stand. You’ll get all stressed up waiting in the never-ending queue and haggling with the rickshawallas trying to con you. Just cross the road to Shiv Kailash, sit under the shade on one of the stainless steel stools placed on the pavement, invigorate yourself with a tall glass of cool refreshing lassi (which is guaranteed to banish the depleting effects of the tiresome train journey) and tell the waiter to hail a rickshaw from the many hanging around. This is what I have been doing for so many years, during my numerous homecomings, since the days Pune was called Poona.
Shiv Kailash serves the best lassi in Pune. It’s almost as good as the one at Pehelwan in Varanasi. The lassi freshly made in front of you topped off with a generous dollop of soft fresh cream. It’s thick, lip-smacking, nourishing, and gives me a heavenly feeling. I sip slowly, relishing every mouthful, almost eating the delectable fluid after letting it perambulate on my tongue, as I watch the world go about it’s business outside. People come, gulp their lassis in a hurry, and rush away, while I blissfully savor each and every drop of the delicious lassi.
I walk leisurely towards Camp. Past Mira College, GPO, Zero Milestone, Police Headquarters, Nehru Memorial Hall, where I cross the Moledina Road admiring the imposing Lal Deval Synagogue, and turn left, past the place imperial Dorabjee Store Building used to be once. Now there is a huge shopping complex and a glitzy mall opposite. I reminisce. West End, New Empire, all the adorable landmarks gone – “Landmark” – what’s that? A swanky new music-cum-book store. I walk in. The place is swarming with chic salesgirls and salesboys. No one pays any attention to me. Maybe I blend well with the surroundings. I realize the tremendous advantages of obscurity and the benefits of anonymity. Had I been a “successful” person, rich and famous, or someone with a striking personality, people would notice me and I doubt I would have been able to enjoy myself with such carefree abandon. Only non-achievers like me can truly enjoy a life of carefree irresponsibility.
I roam around the ground floor music section. There are no music stations where you can listen to music – like they have in Rhythm House and Planet-M in Mumbai. So I go the first floor bookstore. It’s spacious, neatly laid out and looks impressive. The books are arranged subject-wise, clearly visible from anywhere. There are cushioned stools to sit and browse and also two long sofas below the huge tinted windows towards the far side. I start from the left. Food, Philosophy, Self-Help, Travel, Coffee Table, Erotica, Classics, Fiction, Computers, Children, Indian Writing – there are books on every topic you can think of. The tranquil ambiance is so soothing and conducive that I browse to my heart’s content, loosing myself into that wonderful state of timelessness I experience sometimes when I’m totally immersed into doing something I love.
By the time I leave Landmark, cerebrally satiated, it’s almost three in the afternoon, I’m hungry, and in desperate need of gastronomic satiation. So I walk past Manney’s, West End, turn right on Main Street, cross Aurora Towers, turn right, walk past ABN Amro Bank, and turn left on Dastur Meher Road, a walk leisurely towards Sarbatwala Chowk till I reach Dorabjee and Sons. I dive in through the low entrance and look around. The eatery is crowded, with noisy families bashing away regardless greedily devouring the heaps food before them. The mouth-watering aroma, and the sight of the appetizing food, creates in me such ravenous pangs of hunger that I quickly sit on the only vacant table and order a Mutton Biryani – the signature dish of Dorabjee.
As is the hallmark of specialty cuisine restaurants – the menu is select – just a few choice dishes a single page. There’s Sali, Curry, Masala and Biryani in Mutton and Chicken; Kheema, Brain, Eggs, and combinations thereof, cutlets in gravy, and a few Veg dishes, for appearance sake. On Sundays, you can have Dhansak, maybe on your way to the races in the season.
I spoon some Biryani onto my tongue, seal my lips, close my eyes, turn my senses inwards with full consciousness to imbibe and savor the unique medley of juices released by the succulent piece of mutton, the bitterish-sweet taste of the slightly burnt crisp fried onions, and the spicy flavorsome rice. It is superlative delicious authentic cuisine at its best. Dorabjee serves the best mutton biryani in Pune – no doubt about it.
The fervent atmosphere of the place and exquisite quality of the food is such that one eats enthusiastically, with wholehearted zest and gusto; not apologetically and self-consciously, as one tends to do, trying to be prim and proper, in highfalutin restaurants. At Dorabjee, you can enjoy every morsel of your food with passionate ardor. And as I reach blissful satiety I realize that a well-filled stomach radiates a kind of spiritual happiness.
The ideal way to end this rich spicy repast is to cool it off with a Falooda. So I walk down Sachapir Street, cross Main Street, and head for Badshah on East Street to down a deliciously sweet and chilled Rose flavored Royal Falooda. And then to Kayani, down East Street, to pick up some Shrewsbury Biscuits and Chocolate Walnut Cake.
I stand outside Kayani, wondering what to do. Maybe I can go to Manney’s and browse some more. If Landmark has got the ambiance, Manney’s got the books! And then just walk down Main Street admiring pretty looking things, till I’m tired and hungry. Maybe I’ll have some sandwiches, a roll and cold coffee at Marzorin. Or pastries and a softy at Pasteurs. Or a Burger at Burger King, or a Chopsuey at East End, down East Street. Maybe Kathi Rolls at Olympia, Chicken Masala at George, Chana Bhatura at Monafood, Sev Barfi at Bhavnagri, Wafers at Budhani, or Sizzlers at The Place next to Manney’s. The possibilities are endless!
Or should I see the movie at Victory opposite, or at West End nearby. Maybe I’ll jump into the first bus I see and go wherever it goes. How about going for a long walk on Laxmi road into the heart of town? Or an idyll beside the river in Bund Garden, or Saras Baug, or Sambhaji Park? Or maybe I’ll just head home. The possibilities are endless! I am free to do whatever I choose to do! Loaf to my heart’s content! To continue to spend a perfectly useless day in a perfectly useless manner!
You can take my word for it, dear reader. There is nothing you’ll enjoy more than loafing. It is when you cease to do the things you have to do, and do the things you like to do, and you want to do, that you achieve the highest value of your time. The freedom to enjoy life is the ultimate reward. Why should you defer happiness waiting for some elusive abstract rewards? What reward could be greater than a life enjoyed as it is lived?
If you do not find happiness as you are, where you are, here and now, you will never find it. There is always plenty in life right now to enjoy for one who is determined to enjoy it. The feast of life is before you. Do you have the appetite to enjoy the feast of life? So my dear friend, discover the art of loafing, and you’ll redeem the art of living from the business of living.
The Art of Traveling and The Art of Loafing – inextricably intertwined, aren’t they?
VIKRAM KARVE
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com
http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
vikramkarve@sify.com
vikramkarve@hotmail.com
[The Art of Loafing]
by
VIKRAM KARVE
What is ‘loafing’?
Idling away one’s time on useless things?
Aimless loitering?
Loitering! Sounds a bit derogatory, isn’t it? Okay let’s say it’s aimless wandering. Perfectly useless time spent in a perfectly useless manner! Yes. That’s how I would like to define the art of loafing. Spending perfectly useless time in a perfectly useless manner!
That’s what I did a few days back. I loafed. I spent a perfectly useless day in a perfectly useless manner – Loafing. Let me tell you about it.
It’s a beautiful morning. I try to furtively slip out of my house unnoticed, but I am stopped in my tracks by my wife’s piercing voice, “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know?” I answer truthfully, and this adroit answer probably precludes the next question she is about to ask, “What time are you coming back?” for she knows I will again truthfully answer, “I don’t know.”
“Take the mobile with you,” she shouts, but I pretend not to hear and make myself scarce and disappear as fast as possible for I do not want the manacles of technology to ruin my day. If you want to truly enjoy life – beware of the technology trap!
It’s a bright day. I feel good. Flush with a sense of carefree irresponsibility, I walk with a spring in my step. I am going to enjoy my leisure.
Should I turn left? Should I turn right? I was free. Free to go wherever I desired. Free. To enjoy my day as I wanted. True freedom. To travel with no destination to reach. No task to complete. No deadlines to meet. Just Loaf. Aimlessly. Timelessly. Spend a perfectly useless day in a perfectly useless manner.
I see a bus, stop it and hop in.
“Where do you want to go?” the conductor asks.
“Where does this bus go?” I ask.
“Pune Railway Station.”
“Okay. One Pune Railway Station,” I say holding out a tenner.
The conductor gives me an amused look and hands me a ticket and a rupee coin. I sit down, think interesting thoughts and enjoy the view through the window. On these trips of mine I prefer traveling by bus and, of course, I love to walk on foot. Driving my car on the terrible potholed, crowded and chaotic roads of Pune makes me go crazy, and, at my age, I dare not venture out too far on my scooter, lest I land up with broken bones in hospital or, worse, lifeless in Vaikunth or Kailas crematoriums!
That’s what I sometimes do on these glorious trips of mine. Just jump into the first bus that comes along and let it take you wherever it goes. Go where life leads you. Last time I landed up in the heart of Pune – near Shaniwar Wada. In Mumbai, Kolkata, Chennai and Delhi it’s even more exciting, as there are so many more routes and choices, and you can serendipitously explore so many novel and exotic places you wouldn’t dream of going to otherwise.
The PCMT bus reaches the Railway Station. It’s a smooth ride. (PCMT buses seem to be better than PMT buses!).
I get down and admire the magnificent heritage stone building of Pune Railway Station. I stand in the porch and look inside. Trains, crowds – I love the atmosphere. On impulse, I enter, and stroll on the platform, panning my gaze all over, and stopping once in a while to feast my eyes on any attractive object that arrests my attention.
“Want a seat?” a porter asks.
“No,” I say.
“Where are you going?” he pursues.
“Nowhere,” I say.
“Waiting for someone,” he asks, probably in anticipation of porterage.
“No,” I say.
He stares at me for a moment and walks off with a look of perplexed dejection. I look around. Everyone is waiting to go somewhere, or for someone. I am waiting to go nowhere, and for nobody. So I walk out of the station and head for Shiv Kailash Milk Bar bang opposite.
If you arrive at Pune by train on a hot morning, never make the blunder of heading for the rickshaw stand. You’ll get all stressed up waiting in the never-ending queue and haggling with the rickshawallas trying to con you. Just cross the road to Shiv Kailash, sit under the shade on one of the stainless steel stools placed on the pavement, invigorate yourself with a tall glass of cool refreshing lassi (which is guaranteed to banish the depleting effects of the tiresome train journey) and tell the waiter to hail a rickshaw from the many hanging around. This is what I have been doing for so many years, during my numerous homecomings, since the days Pune was called Poona.
Shiv Kailash serves the best lassi in Pune. It’s almost as good as the one at Pehelwan in Varanasi. The lassi freshly made in front of you topped off with a generous dollop of soft fresh cream. It’s thick, lip-smacking, nourishing, and gives me a heavenly feeling. I sip slowly, relishing every mouthful, almost eating the delectable fluid after letting it perambulate on my tongue, as I watch the world go about it’s business outside. People come, gulp their lassis in a hurry, and rush away, while I blissfully savor each and every drop of the delicious lassi.
I walk leisurely towards Camp. Past Mira College, GPO, Zero Milestone, Police Headquarters, Nehru Memorial Hall, where I cross the Moledina Road admiring the imposing Lal Deval Synagogue, and turn left, past the place imperial Dorabjee Store Building used to be once. Now there is a huge shopping complex and a glitzy mall opposite. I reminisce. West End, New Empire, all the adorable landmarks gone – “Landmark” – what’s that? A swanky new music-cum-book store. I walk in. The place is swarming with chic salesgirls and salesboys. No one pays any attention to me. Maybe I blend well with the surroundings. I realize the tremendous advantages of obscurity and the benefits of anonymity. Had I been a “successful” person, rich and famous, or someone with a striking personality, people would notice me and I doubt I would have been able to enjoy myself with such carefree abandon. Only non-achievers like me can truly enjoy a life of carefree irresponsibility.
I roam around the ground floor music section. There are no music stations where you can listen to music – like they have in Rhythm House and Planet-M in Mumbai. So I go the first floor bookstore. It’s spacious, neatly laid out and looks impressive. The books are arranged subject-wise, clearly visible from anywhere. There are cushioned stools to sit and browse and also two long sofas below the huge tinted windows towards the far side. I start from the left. Food, Philosophy, Self-Help, Travel, Coffee Table, Erotica, Classics, Fiction, Computers, Children, Indian Writing – there are books on every topic you can think of. The tranquil ambiance is so soothing and conducive that I browse to my heart’s content, loosing myself into that wonderful state of timelessness I experience sometimes when I’m totally immersed into doing something I love.
By the time I leave Landmark, cerebrally satiated, it’s almost three in the afternoon, I’m hungry, and in desperate need of gastronomic satiation. So I walk past Manney’s, West End, turn right on Main Street, cross Aurora Towers, turn right, walk past ABN Amro Bank, and turn left on Dastur Meher Road, a walk leisurely towards Sarbatwala Chowk till I reach Dorabjee and Sons. I dive in through the low entrance and look around. The eatery is crowded, with noisy families bashing away regardless greedily devouring the heaps food before them. The mouth-watering aroma, and the sight of the appetizing food, creates in me such ravenous pangs of hunger that I quickly sit on the only vacant table and order a Mutton Biryani – the signature dish of Dorabjee.
As is the hallmark of specialty cuisine restaurants – the menu is select – just a few choice dishes a single page. There’s Sali, Curry, Masala and Biryani in Mutton and Chicken; Kheema, Brain, Eggs, and combinations thereof, cutlets in gravy, and a few Veg dishes, for appearance sake. On Sundays, you can have Dhansak, maybe on your way to the races in the season.
I spoon some Biryani onto my tongue, seal my lips, close my eyes, turn my senses inwards with full consciousness to imbibe and savor the unique medley of juices released by the succulent piece of mutton, the bitterish-sweet taste of the slightly burnt crisp fried onions, and the spicy flavorsome rice. It is superlative delicious authentic cuisine at its best. Dorabjee serves the best mutton biryani in Pune – no doubt about it.
The fervent atmosphere of the place and exquisite quality of the food is such that one eats enthusiastically, with wholehearted zest and gusto; not apologetically and self-consciously, as one tends to do, trying to be prim and proper, in highfalutin restaurants. At Dorabjee, you can enjoy every morsel of your food with passionate ardor. And as I reach blissful satiety I realize that a well-filled stomach radiates a kind of spiritual happiness.
The ideal way to end this rich spicy repast is to cool it off with a Falooda. So I walk down Sachapir Street, cross Main Street, and head for Badshah on East Street to down a deliciously sweet and chilled Rose flavored Royal Falooda. And then to Kayani, down East Street, to pick up some Shrewsbury Biscuits and Chocolate Walnut Cake.
I stand outside Kayani, wondering what to do. Maybe I can go to Manney’s and browse some more. If Landmark has got the ambiance, Manney’s got the books! And then just walk down Main Street admiring pretty looking things, till I’m tired and hungry. Maybe I’ll have some sandwiches, a roll and cold coffee at Marzorin. Or pastries and a softy at Pasteurs. Or a Burger at Burger King, or a Chopsuey at East End, down East Street. Maybe Kathi Rolls at Olympia, Chicken Masala at George, Chana Bhatura at Monafood, Sev Barfi at Bhavnagri, Wafers at Budhani, or Sizzlers at The Place next to Manney’s. The possibilities are endless!
Or should I see the movie at Victory opposite, or at West End nearby. Maybe I’ll jump into the first bus I see and go wherever it goes. How about going for a long walk on Laxmi road into the heart of town? Or an idyll beside the river in Bund Garden, or Saras Baug, or Sambhaji Park? Or maybe I’ll just head home. The possibilities are endless! I am free to do whatever I choose to do! Loaf to my heart’s content! To continue to spend a perfectly useless day in a perfectly useless manner!
You can take my word for it, dear reader. There is nothing you’ll enjoy more than loafing. It is when you cease to do the things you have to do, and do the things you like to do, and you want to do, that you achieve the highest value of your time. The freedom to enjoy life is the ultimate reward. Why should you defer happiness waiting for some elusive abstract rewards? What reward could be greater than a life enjoyed as it is lived?
If you do not find happiness as you are, where you are, here and now, you will never find it. There is always plenty in life right now to enjoy for one who is determined to enjoy it. The feast of life is before you. Do you have the appetite to enjoy the feast of life? So my dear friend, discover the art of loafing, and you’ll redeem the art of living from the business of living.
The Art of Traveling and The Art of Loafing – inextricably intertwined, aren’t they?
VIKRAM KARVE
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com
http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
vikramkarve@sify.com
vikramkarve@hotmail.com
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
( 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
[ 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
[ 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
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
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
(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
(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
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
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
Friday, December 23, 2005
Good Food I love to eat in Mumbai and Pune India
MY FAVOURITE FOOD AND WHERE I EAT IT
By
Vikram Karve
I love good food. And I love walking around searching for good food ( food walks I call them). Let me share with you, dear fellow foodie, some of my favourite eateries. Most of them are in South Mumbai, where I live, a few (where mentioned) are in Pune which is my home town which I visit quite often. Read on. It’s my very own Vikram Karve’s Value For Money Good Food Guide. I’ve walked there and eaten there. It’s a totally random compilation as I write as I remember and I may have missed out some of my favourites but I’ll add them on as and when memory jogs me and also keep adding new places I discover during my food walks. Try some places and let me know whether you liked it.
Vada Pav - CTO Vada Pav (Ashok Satam’s Stall) alongside the Central Telegraph Office (CTO) at Flora Fountain ( Hutatma Chowk). Or at Sahaydri at Churchgate.
Misal Pav – Vinay in Girgaum . Walk down Marine Drive, cross the road near Taraporewala Aquarium, take the lane between Kaivalyadhama Yoga Centre and Ladies Hostel ( it’s called Income Tax Lane), cross the railway overbridge, walk straight on Thakurdwar Road, cross Girgaum (JSS) Road, walk a bit and Vinay is to your right.
Kheema Pav – Stadium. Next to Churchgate Station. Kyani at Dhobi Talao.
Seekh Kebabs – Ayubs ( Chotte Mian ). Take the lane to the left of Rhythm House Music Store at Kalaghoda and let your nose guide you.
Jeera Butter – Ideal Bakery. Kandewadi, Girgaum. And try the sugarcane juice at Rasvanti next door.
Chicken Stew ( Kerala Style),Malabar Paratha and Appams – Fountain Plaza. In the lane off Handloom House. Fort. [ Brings back nostalgic memories of Ceylon Bake House in Ernakulam Kochi (Cochin) ]
Chicken Biryani – Olympia. Colaba Causeway. In Pune it’s Dorabjee & Sons restaurant on Dastur Meher road off Sarbatwala Chowk in Pune Camp.
Mutton Biryani – Shalimar. Bhendi Bazaar. I like the Chicken Chilly Dry too.
Malvani Cuisine – Sachivalaya Gymkhana Canteen. Opposite Mantralaya. Nariman Point. Bombil Fry, Pomfret masala, Kombdi (Chicken) Vada and Lunch Thali.
Gomantak Cuisine - Sandeep Gomantak. Bazargate Street. Fort.
Chiken Masala and Khaboosh Roti – Baghdadi. Near Regal. Off Colaba Causeway.
Nihari – Jaffer Bhai’s Delhi Darbar. Near Metro.
Nalli Nihari – Noor Mohammadi. Bhendi Bazaar.
Berry Pulao – Brittania. Ballard Estate.
Puri Bhaji – Pancham Puriwala. Bazargate street. Opposite CST Station (VT).
Kolhapuri Cuisine – I go to ‘Purepur Kolhapur’ at Peru Gate Sadashiv Peth in Pune for authentic Kolhapuri Pandhra Rassa, Tambda Rassa and Kheema vati. In Kolhapur it’s Opal.
Gulab Jamun – Kailash Parbat. 1st Pasta Lane. Colaba Causeway.
Rasgulla – Bhaishankar Gaurishankar. CP Tank.
Khichdi – Khichdi Samrat. VP Road. CP Tank.
Vegetarian Thali and Chaas(buttermilk) – Bhagat Tarachand. Mumbadevi. Zaveri Bazar.
Navrattan Kurma – Vihar. JT Road. Churchgate.
Veg Burger and Chicken Cafreal Croissant – Croissants. Churchgate.
Tea while browsing books – Cha-Bar. Oxford Bookstore. Churchgate.
Just a refreshing cup of Tea – Stadium. Churchgate.
Ice Cream – Rustom. Churchgate.
Pav Bhaji – Lenin Pav Bhaji Stall. Khau Galli. New Marine Lines. Near SNDT.
Jalebi – Pancharatna Jalebi House. Near Roxy. Opera House.
Milk Shakes, Juices and uniquely flavored ice creams – Bachelor. Opposite Chowpatty.
Stuffed Parathas – Samovar. Jehangir Art Gallery.
Stuffed Omlettes and Steaks – Churchill. Colaba Causeway.
Sea food – Anant Ashram. Khotachiwadi. Girgaum.
Apple Pie and Ginger Biscuits – Yazdani Bakery. Cawasji Patel Street. Between PM Road and Veer Nariman Road. Fort.
Cakes – Sassanian Boulangerie. 1st Marine Street. Near Metro.
Buns, Breads and Pastries – Gaylord Bake Shop. Churchgate.
Falooda – Badshah. Crawford Market.
Curds – Parsi dairy. Princess Street.
Sandwiches – Marz-o-rin. Main Street. MG Road. Pune.
Chole Bhature – Monafood. Main Street. Pune.
Shrewsbury Biscuits – Kayani Bakery. East Street. Pune.
The mere thought of Shrewsbury biscuits evokes in me a sensation I cannot describe. I am feeling nostalgic and am off to Pune - for Shrewsbury at Kayani, wafers at Budhani, Sev Barfi at Bhavnagri, Amba Barfi and Bakarwadi at Chitale, Biryani and Dhansak at Dorabjee, Misal at Ramnath, Sizzlers at The Place, Pandhra Rassa at Purepur Kolhapur, Mango Ice Cream at Ganu Shinde, Mastani at Kavare, Bhel at Saras Baug and on the banks of Khadakvasla lake, Pithla Bhakri, Kanda Bhaji and tak on top of Sinhagarh Fort, Chinese at Kamling ( Oh no. Sadly it’s closed down so I’ll go across to the end of East Street to the East End Chinese takeaway next to Burger King).
And guess what? The moment I reach Pune, I’ll walk across the station and enjoy a refreshing Lassi at Shiv Kailas. And then walk down in the hot sun to Main Street. One thing I’ll miss is the non-veg samosas at erstwhile Naaz on the West End corner at the entrance to Main Street. The good old Naaz and Kamling are two places I really miss.
See you then. It’s one in the afternoon and I’m hungry. I’m going out for lunch – guess where !
Dear fellow foodies. Please do send in your comments so I can keep updating.
Happy Eating ! Merry Christmas & Happy New Year.
VIKRAM KARVE
vikramkarve@sify.com
vikramkarve@hotmail.com
By
Vikram Karve
I love good food. And I love walking around searching for good food ( food walks I call them). Let me share with you, dear fellow foodie, some of my favourite eateries. Most of them are in South Mumbai, where I live, a few (where mentioned) are in Pune which is my home town which I visit quite often. Read on. It’s my very own Vikram Karve’s Value For Money Good Food Guide. I’ve walked there and eaten there. It’s a totally random compilation as I write as I remember and I may have missed out some of my favourites but I’ll add them on as and when memory jogs me and also keep adding new places I discover during my food walks. Try some places and let me know whether you liked it.
Vada Pav - CTO Vada Pav (Ashok Satam’s Stall) alongside the Central Telegraph Office (CTO) at Flora Fountain ( Hutatma Chowk). Or at Sahaydri at Churchgate.
Misal Pav – Vinay in Girgaum . Walk down Marine Drive, cross the road near Taraporewala Aquarium, take the lane between Kaivalyadhama Yoga Centre and Ladies Hostel ( it’s called Income Tax Lane), cross the railway overbridge, walk straight on Thakurdwar Road, cross Girgaum (JSS) Road, walk a bit and Vinay is to your right.
Kheema Pav – Stadium. Next to Churchgate Station. Kyani at Dhobi Talao.
Seekh Kebabs – Ayubs ( Chotte Mian ). Take the lane to the left of Rhythm House Music Store at Kalaghoda and let your nose guide you.
Jeera Butter – Ideal Bakery. Kandewadi, Girgaum. And try the sugarcane juice at Rasvanti next door.
Chicken Stew ( Kerala Style),Malabar Paratha and Appams – Fountain Plaza. In the lane off Handloom House. Fort. [ Brings back nostalgic memories of Ceylon Bake House in Ernakulam Kochi (Cochin) ]
Chicken Biryani – Olympia. Colaba Causeway. In Pune it’s Dorabjee & Sons restaurant on Dastur Meher road off Sarbatwala Chowk in Pune Camp.
Mutton Biryani – Shalimar. Bhendi Bazaar. I like the Chicken Chilly Dry too.
Malvani Cuisine – Sachivalaya Gymkhana Canteen. Opposite Mantralaya. Nariman Point. Bombil Fry, Pomfret masala, Kombdi (Chicken) Vada and Lunch Thali.
Gomantak Cuisine - Sandeep Gomantak. Bazargate Street. Fort.
Chiken Masala and Khaboosh Roti – Baghdadi. Near Regal. Off Colaba Causeway.
Nihari – Jaffer Bhai’s Delhi Darbar. Near Metro.
Nalli Nihari – Noor Mohammadi. Bhendi Bazaar.
Berry Pulao – Brittania. Ballard Estate.
Puri Bhaji – Pancham Puriwala. Bazargate street. Opposite CST Station (VT).
Kolhapuri Cuisine – I go to ‘Purepur Kolhapur’ at Peru Gate Sadashiv Peth in Pune for authentic Kolhapuri Pandhra Rassa, Tambda Rassa and Kheema vati. In Kolhapur it’s Opal.
Gulab Jamun – Kailash Parbat. 1st Pasta Lane. Colaba Causeway.
Rasgulla – Bhaishankar Gaurishankar. CP Tank.
Khichdi – Khichdi Samrat. VP Road. CP Tank.
Vegetarian Thali and Chaas(buttermilk) – Bhagat Tarachand. Mumbadevi. Zaveri Bazar.
Navrattan Kurma – Vihar. JT Road. Churchgate.
Veg Burger and Chicken Cafreal Croissant – Croissants. Churchgate.
Tea while browsing books – Cha-Bar. Oxford Bookstore. Churchgate.
Just a refreshing cup of Tea – Stadium. Churchgate.
Ice Cream – Rustom. Churchgate.
Pav Bhaji – Lenin Pav Bhaji Stall. Khau Galli. New Marine Lines. Near SNDT.
Jalebi – Pancharatna Jalebi House. Near Roxy. Opera House.
Milk Shakes, Juices and uniquely flavored ice creams – Bachelor. Opposite Chowpatty.
Stuffed Parathas – Samovar. Jehangir Art Gallery.
Stuffed Omlettes and Steaks – Churchill. Colaba Causeway.
Sea food – Anant Ashram. Khotachiwadi. Girgaum.
Apple Pie and Ginger Biscuits – Yazdani Bakery. Cawasji Patel Street. Between PM Road and Veer Nariman Road. Fort.
Cakes – Sassanian Boulangerie. 1st Marine Street. Near Metro.
Buns, Breads and Pastries – Gaylord Bake Shop. Churchgate.
Falooda – Badshah. Crawford Market.
Curds – Parsi dairy. Princess Street.
Sandwiches – Marz-o-rin. Main Street. MG Road. Pune.
Chole Bhature – Monafood. Main Street. Pune.
Shrewsbury Biscuits – Kayani Bakery. East Street. Pune.
The mere thought of Shrewsbury biscuits evokes in me a sensation I cannot describe. I am feeling nostalgic and am off to Pune - for Shrewsbury at Kayani, wafers at Budhani, Sev Barfi at Bhavnagri, Amba Barfi and Bakarwadi at Chitale, Biryani and Dhansak at Dorabjee, Misal at Ramnath, Sizzlers at The Place, Pandhra Rassa at Purepur Kolhapur, Mango Ice Cream at Ganu Shinde, Mastani at Kavare, Bhel at Saras Baug and on the banks of Khadakvasla lake, Pithla Bhakri, Kanda Bhaji and tak on top of Sinhagarh Fort, Chinese at Kamling ( Oh no. Sadly it’s closed down so I’ll go across to the end of East Street to the East End Chinese takeaway next to Burger King).
And guess what? The moment I reach Pune, I’ll walk across the station and enjoy a refreshing Lassi at Shiv Kailas. And then walk down in the hot sun to Main Street. One thing I’ll miss is the non-veg samosas at erstwhile Naaz on the West End corner at the entrance to Main Street. The good old Naaz and Kamling are two places I really miss.
See you then. It’s one in the afternoon and I’m hungry. I’m going out for lunch – guess where !
Dear fellow foodies. Please do send in your comments so I can keep updating.
Happy Eating ! Merry Christmas & Happy New Year.
VIKRAM KARVE
vikramkarve@sify.com
vikramkarve@hotmail.com
Thursday, December 22, 2005
The Art of Eating - Nihari at Jaffer Bhai's - Eating out in Mumbai: Vikram Karve
AN AFFAIR TO REMEMBER
by
Vikram Karve
I look in front of me. I like what I see. I keep seeing, my eyes locked on to the target, as if by some mysterious, yet astonishing, force of attraction. Something is happening with me. Senses heighten; stimulated, aroused in a way I have never felt before. Waves of desire rise within me. I feel tremors of anticipation. My mouth salivates and I lick my lips lasciviously in eager expectation. I feast my eyes hungrily. My heart beats. I feel possessed. Intense passion, Lusty craving overwhelms me. I can’t control myself any longer. Wild with desire, I move towards my target, ready for the kill.
No. No. Dear Reader. Just wait a moment. The object of my desire - It’s not what you are thinking. What I am looking at, the object of my attention, the focus of my temptation, is a bowl Nihari – two succulent pieces of mutton floating in a rich nourishing gravy looking so luxuriant and tempting, that I just can’t wait to devour. But I control myself. Good food must be savored delicately; slowly, attentively and respectfully; in a befitting manner, with finesse and technique, with relish and appreciation and you will experience true gustatory delight. That’s the Art of Eating. It’s sacrilege to eat in a ravenous and rapacious manner.
The bowl of Nihari, so luxuriously appetizing; a Khameeri Roti, so soft and fluffy. It looks heavenly. I move closer. The tempting aroma - so enticing, so blissful - permeates within me, energizes my brain cells, activates my taste buds. My mouth waters. I am ready to eat.
Eating is not a gustatory experience alone, it’s visual and olfactory as well. Food must look good, smell good, taste good and, most importantly, make you feel good. The Art of Eating. It’s Holistic. Multidimensional. Encompassing all domains of your inner being.
If you want to do full justice to good food you must build up an appetite for it – merely being hungry is not enough. And the first step towards building up an appetite for good food is to think about it – simulated imaginative gustatory visualization to stimulate and prepare yourself for the sumptuous indulgence. An important thing we were taught at boarding school was to read the menu and prepare for the meal by beginning to imagine eating each and every dish, from soup to pudding, in our mind’s eye. Remember: First plan your “eat” and then eat your “plan”.
It’s true. I eat my food twice. First in my mind’s eye – imagining, visualizing, “vicariously tasting”, fantasizing, strategizing on how I am going to savor and relish the dish to my utmost pleasure and satisfaction till my mouth waters and I desperately yearn to eat it. And then I do the honours – actually go and eat it and enjoy the delightful experience.
Using my right thumb and forefinger, I lovingly pick small piece of meat from the gravy and delicately place it on my tongue. I close my eyes. Look inside. To focus my conscious energy. To accentuate my awareness. To concentrate. That’s the cardinal principle of the Art of Eating. You must always close your eyes during the process of eating. When you eat, you must eat; nothing else, no seeing, no hearing, no talking. No multitasking. Focus, eat mindfully, meditatively, honour your taste buds and you will attain a state of delightful bliss and happiness.
The meat is so tender that even a toothless person can eat it. It’s truly “Melt in the mouth” cuisine – like the famous Galouti Kebabs of Lucknow. Soft, succulent, juicy.
You don’t chew. You just gently squeeze the meat, softly rolling your tongue against the palate and the meat dissolves releasing its intoxicating flavours. It’s sheer bliss. Enlightenment. Gustatory Orgasm. Sensory Resonance. I do not have words to describe the exhilarating sensation.
That’s the hallmark of a genuine nourishing Nihari, the best part of the thigh muscle, specially selected prime marrow bones with generous portions of succulent meat, tenderized and marinated with curds, seasoned lovingly in the choicest of spices and dum-cooked to seal in the juices and flavours, slowly and gently, in a gravy carefully thickened with an assortment of flours of wheat, maize and dals as per the season and taste and garnished with thin strips of ginger and fine slices of fresh green chillies and a sprinkling of coriander.
I turn my attention to the Kameeri Roti. Holding the roti with my left hand I pull out a piece with my right. The texture is perfect – soft and fluffy. I sample a piece – yummy – it tastes good by itself; and why shouldn’t it? Whole-wheat atta kneaded with plenty of curds, seasoned with a bit of sugar and salt, fermented overnight in a moist cloth, flattened and cooked in a tandoor. Nourishing, luxuriant, ideal with the Nihari.
I dip a piece of roti in the thick gravy allowing it to soak in and place it on my tongue. Exquisite. A gentle bite. Tangy ginger and sharp chilli. A confluence of contrasting tastes. I absorb the riot of zesty flavours. It’s exciting, invigorating, perks me up and I am ready for what I am going to do next.
And what am I going to do next? You knew it didn’t you? I call for a marrow spoon, dig it into the marrow bone, scoop out some marrow and lick it on my tongue. I close my eyes and I can feel the nourishment coming all the way through. It’s a heavenly feeling.
I eat in silence. Mindfully. Savour the aroma, delicately place the food on my tongue, chew slowly and experience the variety of flavours as the permeate my taste buds, fully aware and sense the nourishment as the food dissolves and sinks deep within me.
The succulent meat. The sumptuous gravy. The luxuriant fluffy Kameeri Roti. It’s a feast worthy of the Gods. An ambrosial repast.
I am in a supreme state of bliss. Is this enlightenment? Or gustatory delight. Maybe it’s meditative eating. Or let’s narrow it down to the art of eating a Nihari.
It’s simple. Create a positive eating atmosphere, honour your taste buds, respect your food and eat it in a proper state of mind, with love, zest, awareness and genuine appreciation and it will transport you to a state of bliss and happiness. In a nutshell, this is ‘The Art of Eating’.
Epilogue
I used to visit two eateries on 1st Marine Street Dhobi Talao near Metro Cinema in Mumbai – Sassanian when in the mood for Parsi food or maybe a Roast Chicken, or to pick up delicious cakes, biscuits and freshly baked delights from their Boulangerie next-door and Punjabi Fish Mart for earthy deep fried fish best enjoyed piping hot by well fortified cast-iron stomachs on cold damp monsoon evenings. Sometime back, returning one evening from one of my food-walks, I noticed, in between these two, a newly opened restaurant - Jaffer Bhai’s Delhi Darbar – with a takeaway section, from where I picked up a menu card and walked home. Later that night I read the menu card and was delighted to find on it my favourite non-vegetarian delicacy – Nihari. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I partook of the dish.
And soon I had my tryst with Nihari and experienced this delightful gustatory affair to remember.
VIKRAM KARVE
vikramkarve@sify.com
vikramkarve@hotmail.com
by
Vikram Karve
I look in front of me. I like what I see. I keep seeing, my eyes locked on to the target, as if by some mysterious, yet astonishing, force of attraction. Something is happening with me. Senses heighten; stimulated, aroused in a way I have never felt before. Waves of desire rise within me. I feel tremors of anticipation. My mouth salivates and I lick my lips lasciviously in eager expectation. I feast my eyes hungrily. My heart beats. I feel possessed. Intense passion, Lusty craving overwhelms me. I can’t control myself any longer. Wild with desire, I move towards my target, ready for the kill.
No. No. Dear Reader. Just wait a moment. The object of my desire - It’s not what you are thinking. What I am looking at, the object of my attention, the focus of my temptation, is a bowl Nihari – two succulent pieces of mutton floating in a rich nourishing gravy looking so luxuriant and tempting, that I just can’t wait to devour. But I control myself. Good food must be savored delicately; slowly, attentively and respectfully; in a befitting manner, with finesse and technique, with relish and appreciation and you will experience true gustatory delight. That’s the Art of Eating. It’s sacrilege to eat in a ravenous and rapacious manner.
The bowl of Nihari, so luxuriously appetizing; a Khameeri Roti, so soft and fluffy. It looks heavenly. I move closer. The tempting aroma - so enticing, so blissful - permeates within me, energizes my brain cells, activates my taste buds. My mouth waters. I am ready to eat.
Eating is not a gustatory experience alone, it’s visual and olfactory as well. Food must look good, smell good, taste good and, most importantly, make you feel good. The Art of Eating. It’s Holistic. Multidimensional. Encompassing all domains of your inner being.
If you want to do full justice to good food you must build up an appetite for it – merely being hungry is not enough. And the first step towards building up an appetite for good food is to think about it – simulated imaginative gustatory visualization to stimulate and prepare yourself for the sumptuous indulgence. An important thing we were taught at boarding school was to read the menu and prepare for the meal by beginning to imagine eating each and every dish, from soup to pudding, in our mind’s eye. Remember: First plan your “eat” and then eat your “plan”.
It’s true. I eat my food twice. First in my mind’s eye – imagining, visualizing, “vicariously tasting”, fantasizing, strategizing on how I am going to savor and relish the dish to my utmost pleasure and satisfaction till my mouth waters and I desperately yearn to eat it. And then I do the honours – actually go and eat it and enjoy the delightful experience.
Using my right thumb and forefinger, I lovingly pick small piece of meat from the gravy and delicately place it on my tongue. I close my eyes. Look inside. To focus my conscious energy. To accentuate my awareness. To concentrate. That’s the cardinal principle of the Art of Eating. You must always close your eyes during the process of eating. When you eat, you must eat; nothing else, no seeing, no hearing, no talking. No multitasking. Focus, eat mindfully, meditatively, honour your taste buds and you will attain a state of delightful bliss and happiness.
The meat is so tender that even a toothless person can eat it. It’s truly “Melt in the mouth” cuisine – like the famous Galouti Kebabs of Lucknow. Soft, succulent, juicy.
You don’t chew. You just gently squeeze the meat, softly rolling your tongue against the palate and the meat dissolves releasing its intoxicating flavours. It’s sheer bliss. Enlightenment. Gustatory Orgasm. Sensory Resonance. I do not have words to describe the exhilarating sensation.
That’s the hallmark of a genuine nourishing Nihari, the best part of the thigh muscle, specially selected prime marrow bones with generous portions of succulent meat, tenderized and marinated with curds, seasoned lovingly in the choicest of spices and dum-cooked to seal in the juices and flavours, slowly and gently, in a gravy carefully thickened with an assortment of flours of wheat, maize and dals as per the season and taste and garnished with thin strips of ginger and fine slices of fresh green chillies and a sprinkling of coriander.
I turn my attention to the Kameeri Roti. Holding the roti with my left hand I pull out a piece with my right. The texture is perfect – soft and fluffy. I sample a piece – yummy – it tastes good by itself; and why shouldn’t it? Whole-wheat atta kneaded with plenty of curds, seasoned with a bit of sugar and salt, fermented overnight in a moist cloth, flattened and cooked in a tandoor. Nourishing, luxuriant, ideal with the Nihari.
I dip a piece of roti in the thick gravy allowing it to soak in and place it on my tongue. Exquisite. A gentle bite. Tangy ginger and sharp chilli. A confluence of contrasting tastes. I absorb the riot of zesty flavours. It’s exciting, invigorating, perks me up and I am ready for what I am going to do next.
And what am I going to do next? You knew it didn’t you? I call for a marrow spoon, dig it into the marrow bone, scoop out some marrow and lick it on my tongue. I close my eyes and I can feel the nourishment coming all the way through. It’s a heavenly feeling.
I eat in silence. Mindfully. Savour the aroma, delicately place the food on my tongue, chew slowly and experience the variety of flavours as the permeate my taste buds, fully aware and sense the nourishment as the food dissolves and sinks deep within me.
The succulent meat. The sumptuous gravy. The luxuriant fluffy Kameeri Roti. It’s a feast worthy of the Gods. An ambrosial repast.
I am in a supreme state of bliss. Is this enlightenment? Or gustatory delight. Maybe it’s meditative eating. Or let’s narrow it down to the art of eating a Nihari.
It’s simple. Create a positive eating atmosphere, honour your taste buds, respect your food and eat it in a proper state of mind, with love, zest, awareness and genuine appreciation and it will transport you to a state of bliss and happiness. In a nutshell, this is ‘The Art of Eating’.
Epilogue
I used to visit two eateries on 1st Marine Street Dhobi Talao near Metro Cinema in Mumbai – Sassanian when in the mood for Parsi food or maybe a Roast Chicken, or to pick up delicious cakes, biscuits and freshly baked delights from their Boulangerie next-door and Punjabi Fish Mart for earthy deep fried fish best enjoyed piping hot by well fortified cast-iron stomachs on cold damp monsoon evenings. Sometime back, returning one evening from one of my food-walks, I noticed, in between these two, a newly opened restaurant - Jaffer Bhai’s Delhi Darbar – with a takeaway section, from where I picked up a menu card and walked home. Later that night I read the menu card and was delighted to find on it my favourite non-vegetarian delicacy – Nihari. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I partook of the dish.
And soon I had my tryst with Nihari and experienced this delightful gustatory affair to remember.
VIKRAM KARVE
vikramkarve@sify.com
vikramkarve@hotmail.com
Saturday, November 05, 2005
The Art of Eating a Gulab Jamun by Vikram Karve
The Art of Eating a Gulab Jamun
by
Vikram Karve
The art of eating comprises three simple steps :
First you learn or come to know about good food – you hear from someone, read somewhere, or come across while browsing the net or from TV or the media or even from the menu card .
Next you go there and observe people eating and relishing the delectable cuisine you have heard so much about – the way they are eating and enjoying themselves. The expression of satiation on their faces. This tempts you to taste and savor the cuisine yourself.
And then you actually order the food you have been yearning for, delicately put a piece in your mouth and actually experience the pleasures of eating it , firsthand.
One winter evening I suddenly feel an urge, a craving, a desperate sort of yearning, for my favourite sweet – The “Gulab Jamun”.
I believe that if you want to be happy you must fulfill such feasible and viable desires at once, here and now, so I put on my walking shoes, cross the Oval – the Rajabai Tower Clock is striking Six – turn right at the Mumbai University gate, and the left, and walk towards Kalaghoda, turn right towards Colaba Causeway which is a foodies’ delight and soon reach my destination - Kailas Parbat – at the southern end of Colaba Causeway.
I have heard from my friends that Kailas Parbat is the best place in Mumbai for Gulab Jamuns. I have enjoyed delectable Gulab Jamuns at many places – at Pachkuin Road in Delhi, Pehelwan at the end of Lanka in Banaras, and even in a place called Dumka in the back of the beyond – but now amongst the people eating Gulab Jamun at Kailas Parbat I see veteran, a connoisseur , relishing it with such satisfaction that I go to the counter and order a Gulab Jamun myself.
Just one hot mouth-watering Gulab Jamun in a liberal amount of thick syrup. It’s nice and hot - Gulab Jamuns must be eaten hot – and very soft and juicy. I spoon a small luscious piece and place it delicately on my tongue and close my eyes to enhance the quality of the gustatory experience – whenever you want to enjoy good food just close your eyes, concentrate on your tongue and notice the feeling.
I just leave the succulent Gulab Jamun piece on my tongue for a while to let the hot sweet viscous syrup permeate deep into my taste-buds and the moment I gently roll my tongue the Gulab Jamun disintegrates and melts in my mouth releasing its delicious cardamom tinged flavor and soothing rose fragrance within me. I eat slowly, deliberately, eyes closed, savoring every moment, relishing the divine taste, prolonging the heavenly experience – it’s epicurean delight of the highest order.
I walk back home in state of supreme bliss, the lingering taste of the delicious Gulab Jamun remains with me for a long long time.
Vikram Karve
E-Mail : vikramkarve@hotmail.com
by
Vikram Karve
The art of eating comprises three simple steps :
First you learn or come to know about good food – you hear from someone, read somewhere, or come across while browsing the net or from TV or the media or even from the menu card .
Next you go there and observe people eating and relishing the delectable cuisine you have heard so much about – the way they are eating and enjoying themselves. The expression of satiation on their faces. This tempts you to taste and savor the cuisine yourself.
And then you actually order the food you have been yearning for, delicately put a piece in your mouth and actually experience the pleasures of eating it , firsthand.
One winter evening I suddenly feel an urge, a craving, a desperate sort of yearning, for my favourite sweet – The “Gulab Jamun”.
I believe that if you want to be happy you must fulfill such feasible and viable desires at once, here and now, so I put on my walking shoes, cross the Oval – the Rajabai Tower Clock is striking Six – turn right at the Mumbai University gate, and the left, and walk towards Kalaghoda, turn right towards Colaba Causeway which is a foodies’ delight and soon reach my destination - Kailas Parbat – at the southern end of Colaba Causeway.
I have heard from my friends that Kailas Parbat is the best place in Mumbai for Gulab Jamuns. I have enjoyed delectable Gulab Jamuns at many places – at Pachkuin Road in Delhi, Pehelwan at the end of Lanka in Banaras, and even in a place called Dumka in the back of the beyond – but now amongst the people eating Gulab Jamun at Kailas Parbat I see veteran, a connoisseur , relishing it with such satisfaction that I go to the counter and order a Gulab Jamun myself.
Just one hot mouth-watering Gulab Jamun in a liberal amount of thick syrup. It’s nice and hot - Gulab Jamuns must be eaten hot – and very soft and juicy. I spoon a small luscious piece and place it delicately on my tongue and close my eyes to enhance the quality of the gustatory experience – whenever you want to enjoy good food just close your eyes, concentrate on your tongue and notice the feeling.
I just leave the succulent Gulab Jamun piece on my tongue for a while to let the hot sweet viscous syrup permeate deep into my taste-buds and the moment I gently roll my tongue the Gulab Jamun disintegrates and melts in my mouth releasing its delicious cardamom tinged flavor and soothing rose fragrance within me. I eat slowly, deliberately, eyes closed, savoring every moment, relishing the divine taste, prolonging the heavenly experience – it’s epicurean delight of the highest order.
I walk back home in state of supreme bliss, the lingering taste of the delicious Gulab Jamun remains with me for a long long time.
Vikram Karve
E-Mail : vikramkarve@hotmail.com
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Morning Food Walk
Food Walks in Mumbai : Vikram Waman Karve
A Sumptuous Breakfast after a long brisk walk in the heart of Mumbai
By
Vikram Waman Karve
I start early, at dawn, from my house in Churchgate, hit Marine Drive and walk briskly towards Chowpatty where I turn right, cross Marine Drive and take the road adjoining Wilson College, walk past Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan , Gamdevi , Nana Chowk and crossing the railway overbridge keep going on Grant Road passing Novelty Cinema , turn right at Delhi Durbar on Falkland Road, reach VP Road, walk past Gol Deval and there I am at the Bhendi Bazar Mohamed Ali Road crossing – my destination Noor Mohammedi Hotel in front of me. Over an hour and a half of brisk walking has built up a healthy appetite in me and I am ready for a sumptuous breakfast.
I enter the Spartan no-nonsense eatery and order a Nalli Nihari and Roti. Within a minute a bowl of piping hot gravy and a fluffy khaboosh roti is placed in front of me. I dip a piece of the soft roti in the rich gravy, let it soak for a while, put it in my mouth and close my eyes to savour and relish the gastronomic experience in its entirety.
I can feel the gravy soaked roti melting on my tongue, releasing its delicious flavours which permeate into my soul. I am in seventh heaven and keep on attaining higher states of sheer bliss with every succulent bite of the mouth watering concoction – they say it’s a bone marrow and wheat gravy but I don’t delve too much on the contents of a dish – it’s the taste and delicacy that matters.
It’s a delectable beginning to a delightful day as the luscious taste of the delicious Nalli Nihari lingers on my tongue for a long long time. It’s epicurean satiation of the highest order – a blissful experience I can never forget.
VIKRAM WAMAN KARVE
E-mail : vikramkarve@sify.com, vikramkarve@yahoo.co.in
A brisk morning walk and a sumptuous breakfast by Vikram Waman Karve
Food Walks in Mumbai : Vikram Waman Karve
A Sumptuous Breakfast after a long brisk walk in the heart of Mumbai
By
Vikram Waman Karve
I start early, at dawn, from my house in Churchgate, hit Marine Drive and walk briskly towards Chowpatty where I turn right, cross Marine Drive and take the road adjoining Wilson College, walk past Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan , Gamdevi , Nana Chowk and crossing the railway overbridge keep going on Grant Road passing Novelty Cinema , turn right at Delhi Durbar on Falkland Road, reach VP Road, walk past Gol Deval and there I am at the Bhendi Bazar Mohamed Ali Road crossing – my destination Noor Mohammedi Hotel in front of me. Over an hour and a half of brisk walking has built up a healthy appetite in me and I am ready for a sumptuous breakfast.
I enter the Spartan no-nonsense eatery and order a Nalli Nihari and Roti. Within a minute a bowl of piping hot gravy and a fluffy khaboosh roti is placed in front of me. I dip a piece of the soft roti in the rich gravy, let it soak for a while, put it in my mouth and close my eyes to savour and relish the gastronomic experience in its entirety.
I can feel the gravy soaked roti melting on my tongue, releasing its delicious flavours which permeate into my soul. I am in seventh heaven and keep on attaining higher states of sheer bliss with every succulent bite of the mouth watering concoction – they say it’s a bone marrow and wheat gravy but I don’t delve too much on the contents of a dish – it’s the taste and delicacy that matters.
It’s a delectable beginning to a delightful day as the luscious taste of the delicious Nalli Nihari lingers on my tongue for a long long time. It’s epicurean satiation of the highest order – a blissful experience I can never forget.
VIKRAM WAMAN KARVE
E-mail : vikramkarve@sify.com, vikramkarve@yahoo.co.in
A Morning Food Walk and sumptuous breakfast in Mumbai by Vikram Waman Karve
Food Walks in Mumbai : Vikram Waman Karve
A Sumptuous Breakfast after a long brisk walk in the heart of Mumbai
By
Vikram Waman Karve
I start early, at dawn, from my house in Churchgate, hit Marine Drive and walk briskly towards Chowpatty where I turn right, cross Marine Drive and take the road adjoining Wilson College, walk past Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan , Gamdevi , Nana Chowk and crossing the railway overbridge keep going on Grant Road passing Novelty Cinema , turn right at Delhi Durbar on Falkland Road, reach VP Road, walk past Gol Deval and there I am at the Bhendi Bazar Mohamed Ali Road crossing – my destination Noor Mohammedi Hotel in front of me. Over an hour and a half of brisk walking has built up a healthy appetite in me and I am ready for a sumptuous breakfast.
I enter the Spartan no-nonsense eatery and order a Nalli Nihari and Roti. Within a minute a bowl of piping hot gravy and a fluffy khaboosh roti is placed in front of me. I dip a piece of the soft roti in the rich gravy, let it soak for a while, put it in my mouth and close my eyes to savour and relish the gastronomic experience in its entirety.
I can feel the gravy soaked roti melting on my tongue, releasing its delicious flavours which permeate into my soul. I am in seventh heaven and keep on attaining higher states of sheer bliss with every succulent bite of the mouth watering concoction – they say it’s a bone marrow and wheat gravy but I don’t delve too much on the contents of a dish – it’s the taste and delicacy that matters.
It’s a delectable beginning to a delightful day as the luscious taste of the delicious Nalli Nihari lingers on my tongue for a long long time. It’s epicurean satiation of the highest order – a blissful experience I can never forget.
VIKRAM WAMAN KARVE
E-mail : vikramkarve@sify.com, vikramkarve@yahoo.co.in
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)