DISCOVERY OF INDIA
FOOTLOOSE & FOODWISE

An amazing array of tastes, aromas and flavours will be discovered by those who embark upon a culinary voyage of Indian cuisine and its regional variations. Pushpesh Pant initiates us on to the great Indian foodtrail and its delights

Conversation, writings and reflection focusing on Indian food normally swing between the two poles of fabulous and fantastic to plebian and platitudinous. We have friends rejoicing tirelessly on the tikka murgh masala vanquishing all competition to become the ‘national dish’ of Great Britain and other acquaintances who have just stumbled upon it. Some four centuries before the birth of Christ, a Greek traveller named Megasthenes was amazed to see Indians suck honey out of bamboos they grew in their fields. ‘Sugarcane, you know’.

Interest in the new age lifestyle has revived an interest in ayurvedic roots of native cuisines and all kinds of half-baked wisdom is being generously doled out by people equally ignorant of both ayurveda and Indian food. To make matters worse, food-festivals organised by not only the deluxe eateries but small-time restaurants have created the illusion that the average person dining out today is exposed to pan-Indian flavours and has a varied choice before him/her.

One may, like the poor Russian princess, who did not know she was speaking French all her life, consume kilos of galauti without realising that extra fine mince does not a galawat ka kebab make.

The discovery of India remains to be made by the gourmet and the glutton alike. We have great pleasure inviting our readers to follow us on this food trail, footloose and fancy-free, from North to South and East to West of contemporary India. Food-lovers of the Hind you have nothing to lose but your prejudices.

The taste of paradise is not limited to Roghan Josh, Kabargah, Alu Dum and Rista-Gusthaba. There are delightful vegetarian delicacies that are waiting to be given their due. Nadur Yakhni or Khatte Nadur have seductive power, subtle yet irresistible. Try the Kashmiri chaman once and one can bet safely that you will think twice about ordering kadahi paneer or even the shahi one. Haq-sag has a simple elegance that can only be matched by kadam cooked the Kashmiri way. Nothing is allowed to interfere with the natural textures, colours and flavours.

The debt that the nation owes to the denizens of Punjab must be acknowledged. But this does not mean that we should all be bound in unending servitude to daal makhani, gobhi masala, paneer lubabdaar and kukkad tangadi or tandoori Bhangadi. (sorry, the temptation to rhyme was too strong!) Why don’t we boldly ask for rarha gosht, Amritsari macchi and good old baigan ka bharta which alas not many cook well even at home. We have long felt that in an effort to outdo the Avadhi cuisine in nazakat and nafasat, the faux Mughaliya veneer has unnecessarily maimed the robust Punjabi fare.

There should be no need to evoke the princely heritage of Patiala or revive memories of the Khalsa empire to justify the regional cuisine.

The Rajasthani and the Gujarati cuisines too seemed to have painted themselves in a corner. They are linked in popular imagination with strict, almost fanatical vegetarianism, manifest in lentil-based gatta/ kadhi/ dhokla/ khandavi. Seldom do we pause to ponder that items relished as nashto and farshan are not illustrative of the regional riches. Nor does the Marwar region get by with kachauri and mirchi bada.

Mindless propagation of asafoetida-laced rich goodies has served only to put the health-conscious off these menus. Why oh why do we turn a blind eye to Rajput non-vegetarian repast—shule, mukul, maans dahi ki gujiya et al and give a miss to the delightful khat mitthi Gujarati daal soured and tinted with kokum? And, are we also not proud inheritors of the Gujarati- speaking Parsi and Bora Muslim food?

The problem, we think, is primarily caused by the confusion created by the political map of India. The states of the Union are organised on a linguistic basis while the major culinary regions/cultural zones make a mockery of this man-made division. We tend to locate the Parsi in Mumbai/Maharashtra and God alone knows why we insist on separating the coastal people in realm of food. Goa and Mangalore have, it must be conceded, distinct culinary identities but the differences is not the result of spoken language.

If you observe food taboos, and there is no reason why not, the pork and beef recipes have to be written off in Goa, Mangalore and the Malabar coast as well as pockets of Tamil Nadu and Andhra while the stir-fried vegetables garnished with fresh grated coconut can be enjoyed without inhibition by all.

Sambar has reached all corners of our land but please have no illusions, what is dished out routinely by the Udupiwala Madrasi, a mind-blowing contradiction in terms if there ever was one is not even a pale shadow of the mother of all daal celebrated in ancient Tamil texts Silappadhikaram and Manimekalai. From spicing to tempering, from choice of seasonal vegetables incorporated to percussion accompanists provided to enhance the effect of this sensuous symphony there are few gems in the all India repertoire that can match its resplendence.

Then there is the infinite variety of vegetables hardly looked at in the North. The snake gourd, various yams and some familiar friends prepared with refreshing originality—the pachadi and pulisseri, poriyals, torans and vertathu. The wealth of non-vegetarian dishes Chettinad/ Malabar et al is just beginning to be unveiled. The risk here is that like the idli-vada, dosai uttapam scene, the North will unwittingly settle for the lowest common denominator. It is a matter of great shame that appam and stew are available on certain days in South Indian joints even in the Capital and even the mighty Sagar Ratna was constrained to change its original recipe at the outlet in Delhi’s five-star Ashoka.

As we head in the northerly direction from deep down South, the ironies are no less glaring. Hyderabd is synonymous with biryani, mirchi ka salan and bagahar ke baigan. Thanks to the exertions of the head honcho of the Welcom group S.S.H. Rehman, the world without the erstwhile Nizam’s domain have heard of sundry exotic kebab and have been laboriously educated about the city’s dum pukht connection but there is more to the food in this historic city. The daily diet of the common man is no less enticing—the myriad daalcha, khima-khichari, tamatar ka kut, and that addictive delicious morsel lukmi. The red-hot sea food in coastal Andhra has its own fan following. The bark, let us assure you, is worse than the bite. Try the roya vepudu and banish all thoughts from your mind of golden fried Chinese prawns.

Unfortunately, we insist on carrying the grand backbreaking burden of Mughliya imperial food every-where and all the time that we fail to see what is staring us in the face. Even in Delhi, be it Karim’s or New Jawahar nestling in the by-lanes of Old Delhi in the shadow of the great Jama Majid we order, by reflex, dishes pre-fixed with awe-inspiring words Shahi or Jehangiri-Noorjehani etc while Alu-gosht, plain pasande promise far greater satisfaction. The present generation is a stranger to badami and methi ki chatani or matar ki kachauri. Paranthewali gali plods on valiantly but you can’t really flog a dead horse. R.I.P. the Delhi parantha.

The story is not very different in Lucknow. The legend of the Tunda kebabiya, the fascinating fabrications regarding the origins of the Kakori kebab and the fantastic boasts of the local bawarchi-rikabdar eager to find gainful employment in five-stars specialty restaurants have affected the acuity of even the Epicure’s vision. Awadhi food is not merely what the nawab and taluqdar consumed. People who served them sustained themselves with a seasonally sensible diet. These recipes are what urgently need to be reclaimed before they too are bastardised. The simple shami kebab, the home-style band gosht, nimona—an intriguing dish prepared with fresh peas—and cold black masoor daal in a shikora, paired with khamiri roti are dining experiences to give one’s right hand for.

Similarly, such is the power of myth-making that for most of us Bengal is the land of maach and mishti. Don’t get us wrong, we have nothing against illich or chenna but we have an equally soft spot for mocha (banana blossom), chollar daal, sonar mung daal, tamatar tonk, potol and the Bengali alu-dom, which is far lighter and tantalising than its Kashmiri or Banarasi cousins. And, kashundhi, for us, is miles ahead of the English mustard.

We have, in this short piece, just scratched the surface. The riches of Indian cuisines invite all of us to a scintillating voyage of discovery. Discovery of India in the realm of food reverberates with millennial echoes—atmanam viddhi—know thyself and annam vai Brahman— food is the supreme cosmic reality. The diversity of its manifestation is infinite. The quest for the best will always remain an unending journey of exploration. Recall the Buddha’s words, Appa dipo bhava, be your own lamp. May you be guided well by your palate on uncharted seas.

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