CHYA PANI

The best memories album invariably holds pictures of family members gathered together on chilly evenings in the verandah with hot tea and garam pakoras.

Better butter

 

What can be better than fresh home churned butter? 

GIVE ME RED

These red jewels are among my favourites (BTW I have hundreds of favourites). They are a great source of vitamin C calcium, riboflavin, niacin, thiamin, phosphorus and potassium, besides having loads of fiber and being low in calories, saturated fat, cholesterol and sodium. Packed to the brim with anthocyanins (pigments which gives it the blood red colour) it has also got great cancer fighting and antiaging properties. 

I crunch it up for breakfast, whip up juices, sprinkle some into my salads and brighten up my curd rice. And yes let me not forget the in between meal  snacks.

MOMO MIA

Recently I got a forwarded mail highlighting the idiosyncrasies of Darjeeling..among them was "Its only in Darjeeling that the best thing on the menu in every restaurant will be momo and thukpa". How very true:)

Momos have made their humble but steady journey which had maybe begun from Tibet or China and have made acquaintance with Chinese food lovers in most Indian cities. But wait a minute unlike the panch rupaiya pela (Rs 5/plate) momos in Darjeeling these cost up to 10 rupees per piece that too in a wayside stall [I nearly passed out on hearing this:)].

http://pattypans.blogspot.com/2008/03/this-one-is-for-vir-sanghvi.html

Searching for the perfect greens

Its been really hot for the past few weeks and I have walked to at least some seven eight odd bhaji shops around in search of some greens. Bunches of coriander that sabziwalnis in Haat Bazaar back home would throw in gratis with your weekly purchase are costing fifteen bucks!!! I am not having coriander and there is no sign of mint. Methi saag is a thing of the past and finally I got some palak. It cost me twenty rupees for a bunch that look like a really pathetic bangali babu who had thoroughly beaten up by a gang of dhood shood peene wala Haryanvi Jats. I bought it home and retrieved precisely twelve intact leaves from two bunches. Oh how I miss the Haat Bazaar back home....the haggling, the bargaining, the crowds and yes the squelchy feeling below your feet in monsoons.

CORN FLOWERS

Much before multiplexes and flavored popcorn costing more than a decent meal in any normal eatery invaded our lives, corn flowers were a staple item on our evening tiffin (belka ko khaja)menu. Before you get me wrong corn flowers are not flowers of the corn plant. Makkai ko phool or Maize flowers were what we called the corn that was popped in a wire contraption over a blazing fire in my grandmother’s place. True enough they looked like snow white flowers as my grandmother popped them and piled them up on a round bamboo tray (Nanglo). All the maize was from our fields, some were consumed fresh (boiled, fried, as rotis, roasted), some ground to a flour and some to grits and rest stored. The stored maize would hang in rows in the loft above the hearth smoked to a lovely golden colour. We were invariably given the job of shelling the corn which gave ample opportunities for corn shelling competitions.
On ordinary days we dipped them in doodh-pani which was milk, water and lots of sugar - a unique recipe concocted by my grandmother to get us children drink the milk. I should not forget to mention that while we happily gulped the doodh-pani , we wouldn’t touch the doodh. Id rather say we were a milkman’s delight since adulterated milk was what we favored. But there were days when a lot of fresh buttermilk would be churned and a radish and cheese dip (Mula ra Churpi ko achar) would be made. If there is a contest for the best way of eating popcorn then this will win hands down. Its been ages since I sat in a circle eating home popped corn flowers with fresh buttermilk and churpi and moola ko achar, catching up on family gossip. Oh! I would give anything in the world for such a moment. But I guess for the time being I have to be satisfied with the inanely expensive boxes of insipid thermocole bits served in the name of popcorn served at the food counters of multiplexes.

DUSTY PLATFORMS, TICKETLESS TRAVEL AND GHUGNI TO DIE FOR

There is this railway station in South Bengal called Naihatti where we used to board the train for Kolkatta (then Calcutta). I never saw the ticket counter of this station, for buying a ticket would amount to social boycott in the ladies hostel. It was one of the traditions in the university that the girls always travelled ticket less. So during the few months spent in the university I experienced ticket less train journeys whenever we went to Kolkatta. Looking back I think it was a survival strategy since going to Kolkatta took 3 hours and we got just 10 hours leave from the hostel to go to Kolkatta and back and see a movie, shop and eat. 6 hours went in the journey, 3 hours for a movie and just 1 hour for shopping and eating.....the time was too less. Boys never had to bother about not getting back to the hostel in time so didn't think the long ticket queues were a waste of time. Anyway all I remember about Naihatti is dashing to the platform from the bus stand and gobbling a plate of ghugni before boarding the train. I had eaten ghugni all my life since it was one of the things my mother invariably prepared on all occasions but nothing had prepared me for this stuff. It was hot, spicy, tangy and dusty and priced amazingly (just Rs 2/plate!!).

Ghugni is a eastern cousin of choley. Its a thick yellow curry made with dried peas/matar or chickpeas/Kabuli chana and is very versatile can be eaten with rice, bread , moori(puffed rice), chanachur you name it or simply by itself also.

Coming to Naihatti's special tangy, spicy and dusty ghugni- the ghugniwala would add a liberal dose of chanchur, raw onions, coriander leaves, chopped green chillies and top it all with a slurpy tamarind sweet chutney and a sliver of fresh coconut and and and a train would go whooosh!!! coating the entire mixture with a fine layer of dust. I bet the dust did the magic since I tried making the stuff at home many times but it never tastes as good.

LARKS AND STICKJAWS

Much before I got acquainted with Shelly and his odes or with bird watching, Larks featured big in my life. Larks was the name of the store just below my grandmother's house. In fact they were and still are my grandmother's tenants. It was also the one of the most elite stores in town back then. The only place which kept tinned sardines, yellow blocks of cheddar cheese, chocolates, cocoa powder, condensed milk , packets of dried mushrooms, cocktail tinned fruits, China grass etc. It may not be a big deal now but to find all these things some twenty odds years ago my town was a big deal. And yes there were those stick jaws wrapped in butter paper invitingly looking out at us greedy mortals from the glass jars. They stuck when you chewed them so I guess the name. Moreover one would amuse me for at least 20 minutes - a great feat considering I could give the Amazonian Piranhas a run for their fame when it came to finishing off sweets. I had all but forgotten stick jaws till I had a sweet reunion at Elora's in Dehradun, only now they were dressed in cellophane paper. I happily stick jawed (how else do you describe eating them) and carried a bagful to Delhi only to find that they had all melted. They were not really worth eating since the molten ones didn't stick your jaws. Now this accounts for finding the stick jaws only in the hilly towns. And Larks is now a pale shadow of itself with the ubiquitous orange kurkure packets looming large in its shelves as it desperately tries to measure up to the more fancy shops in town.