Euro Food…Desi Style!

Fritters, chicken casserole, mashed potatoes… I love everything to do with Euro food. The creamy butter swirled into steaming mashed potatoes, topped with parsley and served with a portion of garlic bread straight out of the oven, is good enough reason for me to be on the constant look-out for that inexpensive, generous with portions, and sinfully delicious Euro restaurant. Before we go into the fine details of the concept of European food in India, one experience with ‘authentic European food’ made me realize one thing: I would never survive abroad.

 

Having lived in India all my life and never having travelled abroad, my exposure to foreign cuisine remains highly Indianised. Chinese food means the famous ‘Gobi Manchurian’ followed by Paneer or Chicken fried rice. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that ‘Gobi Manchurian’ practically is non-existent in China, as the word ‘Gobi’ is Cauliflower in Hindi. Almost all the ‘Arabian’ restaurants I have visited serve the famous ‘Quabsa’, which comprises of different types of meat, served on a bed of steaming, spiced-up, and buttered long grain rice; I absolutely love it. Although I am curious to know if the dish is served in the same manner in the Arab countries! I suppose it’s the same for foreigners visiting India. The popular Chicken Tikka Masala and the Rogan Josh that has made its way into almost every Indian eatery there is in Britain, is sure to take any non-Indian trying the same dishes in India by surprise. The blend of strong garam-masalas with generous helpings of desi ghee is something we have all taken for granted. Perhaps this is why, when I visited a famous French restaurant in Pondicherry and tried the quiche, followed by Tuna and mayonnaise salad, I was caught by surprise at the bland taste. Most people swear by it. Not me. Somehow I have never been a big fan of food that looks like a beautiful painting. The artful proportion of colors and portions, decorated tastefully before being served, makes me a tad uncomfortable. To each his own I suppose. I know many people who would disagree with me.

 

Anyway, coming back to my quest for a not-so-heavy-on-the-pocket Euro restaurant finally ended last Saturday when I stumbled across this little, college-goers hang out in Koramangala, Bangalore. The menu seemed appetizing, albeit simple and uncluttered. Too much choice often leaves me confused. I wisely decided to stay away from the Chinese section and stuck to Euro food; and I was not disappointed. A meal for two at a very reasonable Rs.421 included starters, which comprised of baby-corn fritters, served with a portion of salad and French fries. The main course was a simple Chicken burger (American I know!..but who cares, when it was this delicious), again served with French fries, lots of mayo and salad. I decided to go for the Italian Chicken, which had small but several pieces of chicken in a creamy mushroom and baby corn gravy. This was also served with a portion of garlic bread, salad and French fries. The generous portions sizes had me struggling half-way through the meal. But the promise of perfectly garnished chicken and mushrooms, polished off with a slice of garlic bread was too tempting. I knew, I would regret this later, but that’s what weekends are for right? Over-indulging. Having paid the bill, which didn’t make by wallet feel deprived, the only thing that remained was satisfying that annoying sweet tooth. Sometimes though, I think I have more than one sweet tooth…such is the craving. What would be better than to top it off with our very own Malai, Kesar Kulfi. After all, how can Desi-style Euro food be complete without a traditional Indian dessert?

 

P.S: When you know you’re going in for a heavy meal, try not wearing jeans. Sweat pants or pajamas are a good idea, if you’re planning to stretch that meal just a little bit, minus the feeling that your buttons will pop-out any minute!

Eid Biryani and Thereafter….

When the Maulvi announced the arrival of Eid, I jumped up and down in glee. Some of the best Biryani’s are made during Eid time. It’s usually the case of the aunties competing with each other to make the best Biryani that year. As for me? I prefer to be the judge on that day; it’s one of the most rewarding and satisfying experiences. Anyway, followed by the traditional kofta, roti and chai breakfast,I wolfed down a couple of those delicious Gulab Jamoons my mom sent across. The breakfast is usually ‘light’; we believe in keeping some room for the lunch!

 

Armed with a pack of Eno and some Moov I gingerly stepped outside. Why the ‘Moov’? Ahem… ‘Eid Mubarak!’ my neighbor aunty yelled from across the balcony. This was eventually followed by her hugging me thrice, followed by her daughters-in-law, her grandchildren, and her mother…phew! Hence the ‘Moov’.  A visit to some friends… more Sheer Khurma, Jamoon and the ritualistic hugging… and then? More ‘Moov’. One has to do so much for some Biryani! But I strongly believe that it’s totally worth it.

 

In all my life, I have had the best Biryani only twice. Yes, twice and at two places that couldn’t be more different from each other. For the first one, I paid Rs.45. Unbelievable isn’t it? Try as much, I cannot recollect the name of that little, non-descript place in Chikmaglur. I still remember the fine, non-sticky, perfectly spiced rice, with large chunky pieces of chicken. How I relished it. The waiter at the restaurant was amazed at how quickly I has polished it off, and that I actually managed to leave the plate clean enough to be reused (I sure hope they didn’t do that!). The only other place that cushioned the impact of the bill that followed was Samarkhand. A little heavy on the pocket yes…but for those who have tried the Dum Gosht ki Biryani they swear by it. Even before the Biryani was served, the wafting aroma announced its arrival. As the impeccably dressed waiter sliced open the flour covering, I rubbed by hands in anticipation. Long, aromatic grains of Basmati rice, loaded with rich, lean and marinated pieces of mutton. Now I am not a big fan of mutton, but those heavenly, melt-in-the-mouth pieces totally numbed by senses. If I was to write my will that day, I would have happily given everything away. Not an ounce of fat, not an annoying little bone. It was chunky, delicious mutton and rice all the way.

 

That’s reminiscing enough. Let’s get back to the Eid Biryani shall we? I am yet to find the third best Biryani ever, and I hoped this was it. The Biryani was served, along with that was the usual fare of Jamoons, Sheer Khurma, Salad and other sweets that were sure to harden the arteries. The rice and the mutton ratio looked good. ‘Let’s taste’, I thought, heaping some on to my plate. ‘Hmmmm… nice… good masala, decent mutton pieces as well’. After three generous helpings, a couple of Jamoons and other desserts later, I decided that nice as it was, it can be the fifth or fourth best Biryani I have ever had…maybe, not the third. I did not dare say this aloud though, especially not after three generous helpings of everything I could lay my eyes on. This would have ensured a boot meeting my backside, without doubt. All said and done, greed, with a good reason, is a sin in the eyes of every religion. The limitless gorging finally caught up with me that evening. I reached for the Eno and Rantac, just praying for my stomach to stop its summersaults! I promised myself, I would never ever be critical of the Biryanis I eat here on…this was my punishment. And dinner that evening? The humble curd and rice. Speaking of which, I would rate this curd rice a three out of…Ouch Ouch… Okay okay.. no more rating my food. Groan!

I Thank Thee Neighbors

My tryst with viral flu should explain the sudden dip in activity on my food blog. I don’t know what was worse, the feeling that everything tasted like cardboard or that I couldn’t join in on the Ramadan feasting frenzy. Every day as I skimmed through the newspaper, page-after-page would mock me with pictures of men frying chicken samosas and kids gorging on sheer khurma. I had to extract my revenge (hence the pictures).  After bidding a much awaited goodbye to the flu bug, I was only too happy to be a part of the fasting and feasting.

For those who aren’t too familiar with the typical Ramadan food galore, I can safely assume that this won’t be the case once you are through with my blog. Although mutton samosas, chicken rolls, dates etc are typical street-food you will find anywhere near Shivajinagar or parts of Frazer town, the ‘what-we-eat-at-home’ aspect is generally overlooked. That’s where I, your good food guide, come in, to take you though the rich, tantalizing and hazardous- to- your-arteries gastronomic journey.

When the clock struck 6pm, I realized I had overslept and had less than an hour to get started. What was on the menu? I felt like going a bit traditional today. Just as I was about to slice the onions for the pakoras, the door bell beckoned. I beamed as I opened the door to my neighbor… not particularly at him as much as for the steaming bowl of haleem he had. “Why thank you, that is so generous,” I gushed, as I half-accepted, almost snatched the bowl from him.  Ok, so I was barely prepared for the ‘Iftaar’; the badam-laden Sherbat was ready, the humble watermelon cut; but was that enough? My brow creased with worry lines, at the same time my nose sniffed the aroma of home-made samosas. If only words could do justice to the generosity of my neighbors. One after the other followed, mini-chicken samosas, dahi-vada and then semolina fried with minced meat and methi; Oh! Did I mention the rasmalai that adorned the table courtesy dear ol’ dad? There! I just mentioned it.  Now would it be befitting of the lady of the house to not as much as turn on the stove? After a ‘light’ and ‘easy-on-the-stomach’ snack(s), I proceeded to make dinner. Aw come on! Of course I would have to eat dinner? Did you guys really imagine this would satisfy the almost 14 hour long fast? I settled for a simple dish of egg masala with soft, melt-in-the-mouth rotis. The greasy biryani had to wait… I was determined to go easy on what I ate that day.

Whew! Another day, another sumptuous iftaar…I can’t wait for the food-bonanza to begin.

Oh one more thing… not a wise idea to get that routine cholesterol test done immediately after Ramadan!

Midday Meals…Karavalli Style

My idea of the perfect weekend begins and ends with gastronomic delight; after all, how can it be a ‘weekend’ if the week didn’t end with a ‘Burp!’ I am not planning on boring my readers with details of the roasted chicken or the biryani I had on Saturday night and how with each finger lickin’ bite my senses were gradually getting dulled, before I finally lulled myself to a good night’s sleep. Nope! That’s not what I am going to write today.

Typical Sunday mornings include sipping a cuppa hot tea, followed by the irreplaceable leisurely South Indian breakfast. At a distance of less than a kilometer is this not-so-little, not-so-large place that dishes out excellent Pongal vada and Dosas; that’s exactly how I started my Sunday, drowning the food with a steaming cup of filter coffee. I had almost forgotten how coffee tastes when not served in a paper cup! Anyway, let’s get to the point shall we? The thought of driving a distance of almost 60 kilometers for a Sunday lunch may not be everyone’s cup-of-tea. Well, it is mine! (In fact, you can make that a gallon)

The craving for a Karavalli style lunch can seldom be ignored; well…make that almost never. Weekend traffic on the highway daunted me… sure, followed by a road block thanks to a Camel! Yes, this is not a typo; I was indeed forced to come to a 15 minute halt because the noble creature was at time munching on some green, succulent leaves. Camels also have their cravings you know. Driving down for an hour and a half was totally worth it. Now I don’t remember the exact name of everything I ate, and I am not even going to try to recollect them; it’s hard, when all you do is salivate like Pavlov’s dog when you try! I do recollect the Akki roti and a sweet and sour gravy that came with that, cabbage kosambari, a serving or rice with sambhar and one with rasam, some starters I cannot name, bhindi fry, curd as thick as it can get, cool soothing buttermilk, a dal and palak side dish, with bananas to aid digestion. I just had to sneak a peek into the kitchen that doled out this magical food…take a look (pic). Hold on…I still could feel a teeny-tiny hollow in my stomach. I just had to try the hot jelabi at the counter.

Aah… the perfect Sunday… the taste of lip smacking food (or was that the bits stuck between my teeth; I must remember to buy floss), the breezy drive and the afternoon snooze.

Here’s a tip; when you’re planning a hearty meal, try not wearing skinny jeans! Skinny is the last thing you’ll feel.

When Men Cook…

“Men usually cook up a storm,” is what my mum believes strongly, referring to the cleaning up she usually has to do when a male member of the family decides to put his culinary skills to test.  Every time my cousins (the guys) decided to   cook, it was mandatory to slip on a pair of flip-flops before entering the kitchen…Why? Because it was usually layered with a ‘gooey’ substance.  However, my perception about men who can cook has changed over the years; come to think of it, the best chefs are men; last year’s Master Chef Australia was won by a man.  What really strengthened my belief that men can cook and are great chefs was when my better half decided to take over the kitchen responsibilities from me occasionally.

After braving the crazy traffic, dodging the paan spitting bus species, and breathing some carbon-di-oxide rich air, all I wanted to do was come home and whip up some comfort food (did I also mention chomping on some boiled and salted corn on the way?). While I lacked the energy, I knew that little imaginary elves wouldn’t have made the dinner. Imagine my relief when I was told I didn’t have to cook today. I flopped on the bean bag, sipping on some buttermilk “aaaah”. ‘Chop chop chop, sizzle sizzle”….my olfactory senses were now alert. “What’s that?” I asked “Oh this and that” came the reply. Now I was curious, but entering the kitchen was a strict no no. The aroma of onions soaking in the ginger and garlic was getting my stomach juices excited.  After 20 minutes of sautéing and sizzling, I was presented with an invention … “Mixed Vegetables in a Secret Sauce”. Spooning a generous helping, I took the first delicious bite. “Mmmmmmmm…. simple, yet rich…rightly flavored, yet not too heavy.”  I haven’t been able to figure out what exactly went into this dish. All the prodding simply yielded this response, “It’s my secret sauce!”

Maybe someday when the secret it revealed, I will share the recipe on my blog. Right now all I can say is, “give them a chance; men can also whip up magic in the kitchen!”

My Guilt-Free Sunday…Well, Almost!

Bavarian Chocolate Donut

There are two things I very firmly believe I am good at, that’s eating and writing; so I decided, why not do a little bit of both. Typical Sunday evening, spending what’s left of my precious weekend worrying about the week ahead. The weekend had been good so far, some retail therapy, followed by a sumptuous meal at KFC. Wait a minute…did I just say a sumptuous meal at KFC? I immediately felt my jeans were a tad too tight and to make matters worse I was watching some show featuring super-skinny models sashaying around in super sexy clothes. The rewind button in my head was working overtime as I recollected the Zinger Burger with extra cheese, the giant glass of cola, fries and chicken strips. “No more binging, let’s shed those excess pounds,” I thought, heading straight for the exercise-bike at home.

 

“ Wheeeeze…Wheeze…” Yeah that was me, my ‘not-used-to-workout’ lungs protesting as I furiously pedaled away, switching TV channels in the process, to watch something inspirational. Well, I sure was inspired! There they were, two of my favorite food guides on TV. I zeroed in on the show’ Highway on my plate’ salivating as Mayur slid a gorgeous piece of ‘Silken Tofu in Light Soya Sauce’ into his mouth (I nearly slipped on my drool after that). “Da** it! I was hungry again”. I could sense my will-power betraying me and my body heading for the refrigerator. “Oh horror!” the stupid refrigerator had nothing but healthy food! Cucumbers, some butter milk and a salad. “ This will not do”

 

And then I happened…as I bit into the Bavarian Chocolate donut, savoring the creamy chocolate as it slid down my throat; every bite was a little piece so heaven. Well, I am a regular person leading a regular life. Who wants to be like those size zero women on TV anyway? I thought I heard a little voice in my head that said “sour grapes”, but I just drowned that out with another delicious bite. SLURRRP!

 

Well, I managed to keep my weekend guilt-free… err…almost!

 

Pssst….now I am craving some Sheek Kebabs and mint Chutney!

I have arrived! Finally

Hi Foodies and Fussy Eaters,

After numerous requests and suggestions, I finally decided to start my own food blog. If you’re expecting hordes of recipes, then I’m afraid I will have to disappoint you. What I will write about is random stuff; restaurant reviews, best street food in town, some of my own recipes maybe and general ‘what you need to know’ about food. In a nut shell, everything there is to know about food. Considering I think about food almost all the time, this should be the perfect platform for me to share some cool (sorry piping hot) stuff, interesting pics and general trivia. So watch this space for more…. until then…BURRRP!