Bangda fry

After taking an extended sabbatical from the kitchen, I thought the perfect way to celebrate my return would be to cook one of my Mum's recipes- the spicy, tangy, crisp, meaty Bangda (Mackerel) Fry. It's a simplified version of the dish you find in Malvani restaurants.

Ingredients (for 3 whopper mackerels)

For the marinade-

Garlic- go nuts and add lots of it (I used 3 massive cloves)

Red chillies- 4 to 5

Tamarind paste- 5-7 tablespoons (make sure the paste is not runny but thick so it doesn't fall off the fish)

Jeera (cumin)

Rawa for shallow frying

Blend the garlic, chillies, tamarind paste and jeera into a paste. Make slits in the skin of the mackerel and smear the paste all over the fish. Marinade for 5-6 hours if possible.

Before shallow frying the fish roll it in fine rawa to give it a crisp coating. Serve with sliced onion and lemon.

P.S- This was the first time in my life I cleaned the fish myself (with a little help from my friends). Made eating the fish all that more satisfying!

Tripping on chai

On a 3000km road trip across India (in an auto rickshaw!), Pranav Ullal celebrates the joys of drinking chai on the streets and highways of the country while finding that it is the perfect way to break the ice with the locals.

 

 “Whatever the situation, whatever the race or creed, tea knows no segregation, no class nor pedigree. It knows no motivations, no sect or organization. It knows no one religion, nor political belief.”

 

From ‘Have A Cuppa Tea’ by The Kinks

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c3rxNCzzJpY

 

If there was ever an award for the world’s greatest travel beverage, it would, without a doubt, have to be given to Camellia sinensis, better known as tea, cha, chai and tcha depending on which part of the world you’re in. Whether you are pootling around the winding lanes of the English countryside, trekking in the deeper recesses of Namdapha, exploring the streets of Old Delhi or watching the rain pelt down from a cottage in the backwaters of Kerala, your journey/holiday/adventure is likely be dotted with numerous cups of steaming hot tea.  But references to this hallowed brew in most travelogues are perfunctory. We drink so much of it on our travels that it has almost become a mundane custom, and unless we visit a tea plantation or book a holiday to Darjeeling, Assam or Ooty, a cup of tea doesn’t take up too much space in our diaries. Nevertheless, tea and travel go hand in hand, even if we may not realize it, or give it much importance. Having just completed a road trip across India recently, I realized that there are few places in the world where drinking a cup of tea has the allure, sense of bonhomie and joie de vivre, as on the streets and highways of India. There is no better way to mingle with the people of our land, than gate crashing a local chai stall. I covered 3000km in 10 days and drank 42 cups of chai along the way. Every time I sat myself on a bench outside a tea stall, the wonderful, lucid lyrics from The Kinks’ song ‘Have A Cuppa Tea’ came floating into my head.

I could give you a detailed account of the road trip. I could tell you that I covered the 3000km from Goa to Pokhara, Nepal, in an auto rickshaw. No really, it was a two-stroke Bajaj auto rickshaw! I could tell you that it was part of an event called the Rickshaw Run- a mad dash across India in an auto, which has been taking place annually for the last 4 years (see information). I could go on an on about the breakdowns I had (there really weren’t many), the sights I saw (the Taj Mahal, Jaipur Palace and so on…you’ve probably seen them all), the number of times I had to bribe highway policemen in U.P (twice), the number of dead animals on the highway (lost count) and the number of Tunda kebabs I had in Lucknow (None. Sadly I reached Lucknow on the day of Id and the famous Tunda Kebab was shut), but I’ve decided not to.

Instead, this being festive season, I wanted to celebrate the many cups of chai that threaded these events together, for they brought me immense joy during the trip. I thought it is about time that we travelers salute that unsung hero of the Indian highways, rajas of the Indian roads, the stalwarts of the Indian streets (wait for the drum roll)- the Great Indian chaiwallahs. 

Somewhere between Ratnagiri and Mumbai- Men enjoying an evening cup.

From the local addas in the cities, to the kids on the trains, the tea stalls on the dusty highways to the hawkers on busy city roads, cheers to you for making our journeys more memorable. There is a brilliant line in ‘The Book of Tea,’ by the Japanese scholar Okakura Kakuzo, where he says- ‘Tea represents the true spirit of Eastern democracy by making all its votaries aristocrats of taste’. Nowhere can this be truer than in India.

It is in this spirit that I have included a few excerpts from my diary that documented some of the cups of tea I was privileged to drink on the trip. The route I had mapped out for the Run was via Mumbai, Surat, Ahmedabad, Udaipur, Jaipur, Agra, Lucknow and Pokhara. The autumn Rickshaw Run kicked off on 13^th September 2009 from the main promenade in Colva, Goa.

The first cup of chai I had whilst on the road, was in Mumbai after a grueling two-day ride from Goa.

 September 14^th, 2009: At 8pm on a muggy, September night in Mumbai, the Bootle Bumtrinket (my mighty Bajaj 2-stroke rickshaw- I wont bore you with the etymology of the name) stuttered to a halt just outside the Bandra Reclamation bus stop. Unfortunately, the Bumtrinket had decided to revolt in the middle of a traffic jam, and refused to start. Trying to ignore the cacophonous tooting of horns behind me, I jumped out, somehow managing to push her towards the footpath. Ignoring the gaalis I received from annoyed Mumbaikars, I scoured the landscape for a mechanic. Thankfully, I spotted one on the other side of the road. To my considerable delight, I noticed a chaiwallah next to the mechanic. My heart soared, and just for a moment, I forgot about the grime, sweat, smell of petrol and the chaotic Mumbai traffic- it was time for a glass of hot cutting chai. I ordered a cup of heavenly goodness and asked the mechanic if he could fix the rickshaw by next morning. The chai was the best I’ve tasted. It was incredibly good and had a lovely kick of elaichi characteristic of cutting chai. A simple ‘mmmmm’ was enough to put a smile on Shankar’s (that was the chaiwallah’s name) face. The mechanic was able to fix by the next morning. When I to collect it, the mechanic himself invited me to have a cup of tea with him. I ended up drinking15 cups of that divine tea, after which I took some of the kids from the basti behind the tea stall for a spin in the rickshaw. Then it was off to Surat.

 The best tea I’ve ever had- cutting chai at Bandra Reclamation, Mumbai.

George Orwell was one amongst many famous tea drinkers. He was so particular about his cup of tea that he concocted a list of 11 rules that need to be followed in order to brew the perfect cup. In a rather grandiose manner, he claimed that anyone who failed to follow his diktat was not ‘a true tea lover’. If Orwell had ever witnessed tea being made on the streets of Jaipur, he would have probably gone into a coma.

 September 18^th: Jaipur. I stood at a busy intersection close to the Hawa Mahal, as the setting rays of the sun bounced off the ochre walls of Jaipur’s old city. It was teeming with people. All around me there were carts selling food- dhai bhalla, chola bhatura, bhel puri, kangan (a divine, jalebiesque sweet I had never eaten before). I was unable to control myself. Saliva dribbled down my chin as I stuffed my face with warm, deep-fried goodness. Then I went looking for a cup of chai. I found Pradeep Kumar, Jaipur’s finest chaiwallah I was told by his assistant. As I watched him brew a fresh pot, the assistant gave me a detailed lowdown of the economics of his tea stall. With the amount of money he makes, I was surprised Pradeep Kumar wasn’t a millionaire. The chai was oh so good. It had been a long day of riding from Udaipur and it hit the sweet spot, reviving my tired, broken body. An elephant, then a camel, ambled past us. Life was truly beautiful. I asked for another cup.

 Pradeep Kumar’s tea stall, Jaipur.

More chai in the gullies of Jaipur.

 After Jaipur, The Bumtrinket made good progress towards Agra, then Lucknow, and a few days later, reached the Indo-Nepal border, before crossing into Nepal close to Lumbini. Once in Nepal, lots of tea was had on the winding Himalayan roads, in the small, colorful mountain villages so typical of Nepal, and After 10 days of non-stop rickshaw riding, I finally made it to the town of Pokhara, nestled in a valley close to the magnificient Annapurna range.

September 22^nd: I had made it alive to Pokhara, Nepal. It was the end of The Rickshaw Run. The Bootle Bumtrinket has traveled exactly 3,100 kilometers, in 10 days. I had seen more of India (and Nepal) in the 10 days than I had in the last 25 years. Granted, only touched the surface in most of the places because of the tight schedule, but I was content to have seen many of India’s greatest symbols. We can go to the corners of the world in search of adventure but there can be no greater adventure than India itself.

 A Nepali man contemplates his next move. Lake Phewa, Pokhara.

 I was sitting by Lake Phewa on the chilly morning after completing my journey, jotting down such inane clichés, drinking a milky cup of Nepali tea. Four pint-sized children were playing table tennis on a makeshift cement table by the lake. They were playing with the skill of professionals. Meanwhile, two middle-aged Nepali men were playing an intense game of chess close by. Occasionally they paused to have a sip of tea from their glass cups. Sometimes they paused to berate the noisy kids. It was a peaceful scene. The perfect end to a grueling road trip.

Relaxing with a milky cuppa tea in Pokhara after a taxing, 10-day journey.

There is an element of simplicity to drinking chai in India. Although it was given to us by the British, and has Chinese origins, we have made it our own and stamped our unique identity on it. Historically speaking, as a custom, ‘tea drinking’ in India has never had the same elements of mystique and complexity that existed and still exists in China and Japan, or the stiff collared characteristics that the British tea rooms had- even now there are tea rooms in Britain which do a high tea that requires dressing up and spending pot loads of money. Tea in India is and always has been the drink of the common man, and there is absolutely no element of fuss involved in the process. For the weary traveller, not only is it the perfect tonic to revive sagging spirits, but also the ideal drink to break barriers, and discover new people and places. On this note, I leave you with a passage so beautiful, so apt, I want to frame it and hang it on my wall.

“The Philosophy of Tea is not mere aestheticism ... for it expresses conjointly with ethics and religion, our whole point of view about man and nature. It is hygiene, for it enforces cleanliness; it is economics, for it shows comfort in simplicity rather than in the complex and costly; it is moral geometry, inasmuch as it defines our sense of proportion to the universe.”

From ‘The Book of Tea’ by Okakura Kakuzo

The Information

 

The Rickshaw Run

 

A UK based company, called The League of Adventurists, organizes the Rickshaw Run. They have been organizing the event since 2006 and because of its popularity, it happens 3 times a year. The Adventurists also organize events such as The Mongol Rally (London to Ulan Bator) and the Moto-taxi Junket (in South America). For all the information visit their website http://www.theadventurists.com/. The next Rickshaw Run is in December 2009.

 

The Best Chai In The World

 

Shankar’s Tea Stall (there is no board with a name on it so you might have to stand in the vicinity of the stall and shout his name out),

Opposite Bandra Reclamation Bus Stop,

KC Marg, Bandra West

Mumbai

 

Pradeep Kumar’s Tea Stall

Badi Choupad (near the Hawa Mahal)

Jaipur

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Rickshaw Run!

In about 25 days I will be embarking on a potentially mind and stomach blowing journey across India in an rickety auto rickshaw. To add spice to the madness I will be sampling some of the greatest street and highway food on earth as I 'tuk-tuk' my way from the sandy beaches and spicy seafood of Goa, to the chilly mountains and steaming momos of Nepal. 

You can follow the journey via this blog. I will be posting photos and writing updates along the way whenever I find the means to do so. I will strive to uncover hidden street and highway food gems along the way. These after all, are the places that feed millions of Indians on a daily basis.

It promises to be quite spectacular...

To follow the journey please click on the following link:

http://therickshawrun.blogspot.com/

Simplicity

Every crunch of sourdough was Proustian. The delusions of time, space and self didn't just vanish, but disappeared quicker than Usain Bolt doing the 100.

It was simplicity. Beaten eggs and milk cooked on a low flame with sauteed (slightly burnt) garlic. Soft, runny, salty brie was added and the mixture was folded more than scrambled and carefully placed on warm, almost brittle sourdough bread. A sprinkling of freshly ground pepper (a drug so potent)...and man oh man!

Culinary LSD.

Can one want anything more in life than fresh, creamy goat's cheese, with thin flaky oatcakes, topped with thick honey, and a warm cup of tea?

For Abhi's Short Film

He sat by the grave, hammering at the stone,
His face was pale, his body-bare bone.
An old, sooty lantern struggled to light
The tombstone he was carving, at the dead of night.

He put down his chisel to catch his breath
For the air was hot and reeked of death.
After a swig of whiskey and a bite of dry bread,
He resumed sculpting names of the dead.

As he raised his hand, ready to hammer
He saw a little girl, his mind began to stammer.
Two graves away, she stood as if in a trance,
With tears in her eyes, he noticed, stealing a glance.

Her stealthy arrival had given him a fright,
What was she doing here, at this hour of night?
He strained his neck to see her face,
Even when sad, it was full of grace.

Her eyes were perfect, her face, meek,
He wished he could go up to her and speak,
She stood by the grave of a Mrs.Novak
Before he could move, she turned to go back,

She was there again the following night,
This time he didn't have as much of a fright.
He mustered some strength and walked up to her
'That's my ma,' she said, wiping a tear.

'I'm Pauline Novak and that's my ma,' she said again,
'A truck hit us and damaged her brain.
We were in our car when it happened.
I couldn't save her,' she broke down, saddened.

With that she turned around and broke into a jog,
In the blink of an eye, she melted into the fog.
He had a swig of whiskey to dull the pain,
And went back to his stone, it had started to rain.

He hammered away with renewed vigour,
The whiskey had fuelled him into a drunken stupor.
Dawn arrived, the tombstone was finished
He dropped down beside it, his strength diminished.

He thought of the girl, sad and innocent
As he looked at his handiwork, feeling frail and bent.
The cold seeped through his skin and froze his bones
For Pauline Novak was the name on the tomb stone.

p.s. The image was taken from  Abhi's website. The poem was written for a short animation feature he will be making at some point. 

The G.D Law

'The law of Going Dutch states that when there is a gathering of two or more people eating a meal, each person pays for his/her meal regardless of whether they have shared their meal or not. In other words 'Going Dutch' does not mean 'splitting a bill evenly' as there is a chance that by doing this you may be paying for another person's meal as well, unless of course all the food has been split evenly.'

This law was made for charlatans like me and Shaunak. J. Patel (who has currently obtained a seat at the prestigious Kellog's School of Business Management) who previously thought that Going Dutch meant 'splitting a bill EVENLY.'

P.S. I am not a deranged, illiterate lunatic.