The power of cheese...the world's easiest mushroom dish

I was going through all the comments that you have written after my last post. All the mails that you have written. I have not answered each individually. I was overwhelmed. I had no idea what the blog had become. I was humbled. A big smile flashed across my face as I read each comment. Then I realised that the best answer to each of you would be to write a new post. So here you are, The World's Easiest Mushroom Dish.

Consider the circumstances in which I made this. I was at the gym for a good hour....ambling, then pedalling. In between caught the end of the Japan Paraguay FIFA WC match. I started cheering for Japan as I walked on the treadmill. My trainer joined me too. And then Japan had a wind deflating loss. I walked back home at 11.30 PM. A long day. Bone tired. If our lives had a soundtrack then I was physically tired enough for Bruce Springsteen's Streets of Philadelphia would be playing. Point I am trying to make is, not the ideal prep for cooking a gourmet dish. Reached home. Banu, my Sous Chef cum woman Friday, had made bhindi and roti for dinner. Not soul uplifting stuff. That's when I looked into the fridge and the rest was history.

Banu had sliced a packet of button mushrooms which she found in the fridge and kept it.

• I took the sliced mushrooms out and kept them in a micro dish
• Drizzled olive oil over them. Perhaps a tablespoon worth
• Sprinkled salt
• And a tablespoon worth of Capsica sauce (Dabur Capsica is a lot cheaper than imported Tabasco sauce)
• I chopped two green chillies and spread these all over
• Sprinkled half a teaspoon of roasted oregano which we had from the sachets which they give with pizzas
• I tossed this mix with a spoon
• And then put three slices of Britannia slim cheese on the mushrooms. One beside the other
• All of this took two minutes of work at my end. I put this into micro and swtiched the fresh vegetable function (7 minutes)

I went for a shower. Got the amazing fragrance of cheese and oregano wafting through the house once I stepped out. Took the dish out of the micro. 

And let me tell you that it tasted even better than it looks. The creamy blend of melted cheese, teased with a hint of oregano with the bounciness of mushroom and the sharp tongue of the green chillies made it an amazingly sensuous dish. I did use cheese. But given that it was slim cheese plus mushrooms plus very little oil and steamed, embarrassingly healthy too.  

Note: My mom's left. She called today. She said that she thought I looked slimmer this time but didn't want to say it so that I wouldn't begin over eating :) Comp is back in the study. Fewer typos. And a wifi connection which keeps breaking. 

Thanks once again everyone.

Open again

The internet is a many splendored thing.

Though 'splendour' is hardly the word that I would choose for the sort of vile filth that we all know is out there. But then this is not limited to the world of internet or blogging. Human depravity exists all around us. The world of blogging is just a microscopic part of society.

Finely Chopped to me has always been a 'happy place'. My personal journal which I have shared with all. I had no idea what I was getting into when I started blogging two and a half years back. It has been a most fantastic ride since. Beyond the wildest of my dreams.

The vile perversion it got recently smeared and defiled with was not the way I had looked at Finely Chopped. It went against grain of everything that Finely Chopped stood for in my life. Disgusted. Dazed. I temporarily closed both Finely Chopped and my travel blog, Faraway Diaries, yesterday morning.

I got the first mail minutes after I closed the blogs. This was from A. A blogger friend from Sydney who had come to visit us with her lovely family when she came to Mumbai. Then from Scarlett, a reader from the beginning and a close friend since. And that was pretty much the story for the rest of the day. Mails, texts, calls, Facebook mails. From friends, virtual friends who became real world friends, virtual friends who shed their anonymous monikers yesterday to write in and people who did not exist in my life till yesterday. All wanting to know why Finely Chopped was now 'by invitation only'. It wasn't, but that was the only way I could suspend the site. Wanting to know how they could get on the 'list'. There was no list. Folks, I would never want to block you :) With each mail came out a rare smile on a day which was gloomy and wet.

I don't know when my next post on Finely Chopped will be. It could be in a couple of hours. Days. Weeks. Or never. I might start another blog. Or continue here but change the tone. I do not have the answers right now. The only thing that I know is that I will not stop writing.

What I have realised is that Finely Chopped is no longer mine alone. It belongs to those who read it as much as it belongs to me. Without you there would be no Finely Chopped.

I am opening the blogs again.

Mumbai's Fawlty Towers.... An Irani Cafe Story

The family legend goes that my dad learnt how to cook Chinese from one of his Chinese patients in the UK in the seventies. That my mother learnt from my father and was one of the first mothers in Calcutta to make Chinese in the eighties. Twenty years later I began cooking Chinese based on memories of what I remembered seeing her do back home. Tonight I made my trademark (chicken sausage) hakka noodles. It was the last night of her visit to Mumbai. She asked for seconds.

Thought that I must write a light post after my whining last night. Thanks to all of  you who wrote in after that. Lapped in all the sympathy. Almost as effective as Monica's cookies and box of tissues (I must have watched each episode of FRIENDS for a minimum of five times).

Remember those times when you go to a restaurant and gnash your teeth because of bad service? Promising never to return?


Well consider yourself lucky that you didn't go to an 'Irani' Cafe in Mumbai. Irani Cafes were run by 'Iranis', Zoroastrians originally from Iran. Not all 'Iranis' are Zoroastrians. Some are Muslims too. However the Cafe owners were Zoroastrians.

The Irani Cafes dotted the landscape of South Mumbai in the last century. They were famous for their inexpensive food, distinctive Irani chai or tea, brun maska (crusty bread with butter) and kheema pao (mince curry with bread). Round wooden tables with chequered tablecloths and quaint Goldilocks wooden chairs were core to these restaurants. As were eccentric owners with a set of rules which included some the following:

Photo credit: This picture is from an Irani Cafe in  Hyderabad I think. Saw the photo in a number of sites. Here's one. Hope it's the original http://www.oddee.com/item_96471.aspx

Almost like living with your parents huh? There are still a few Irani Cafes left in Mumbai. But their numbers are diminishing.

Well Kainaz's mama was at our place today. He started telling us about an incident which happened in an Irani Cafe he had visited. It was quite funny and I made him write it down as the original dialogues were in Parsi Gujarati. You will get the beauty of it if you understand Gujarati and the essence of it if you understand Hindi. I will try to bring this story to you in English. I hope that it doesn't get lost in translation. And I hope that I deciphered his scrawl properly.

This happened sometime in the seventies or eighties. In an Irani Cafe in South Mumbai's Fort District. We don't know the name of the Cafe. But it was a place which employees of The Central Bank of India used to frequent.

It was early evening. A break after a slow and sultry afternoon at work. A few moments snatched with friends over a cuppa chai before heading home. All the tables under the slowly whirring ceiling fans were occupied. There was a muted hush of conversation enveloping the place.

Suddenly a jovial shout broke the still comfort of the Cafe.

"Behram chai ma khandaj nathi" (Behram there is no sugar in the tea)

Behram, the owner of the Cafe, continued looking at the cash box, counting coins.


"Behram, samjhaich ke? Chai me khandaaj nathi" (Behram, did you hear me? There is no sugar in the tea. )

Behram looked out towards the entrance. Oblivious to the strange phrase, 'customer service'.

The customer got up and walked to the till.


"Behram, chai ma khandaj nahin" (By now even you know what this means)

Behram looks up at the big bulbous Parsi nose pointed at his face.

"Main tumhe bulaiya? Ke aaa, maari dukan ma chai piye jaa? Tum tara mere aai pagathiya chadiya aayechh. Aaj koine kaai complaint nathi. Baddha chup chap chai peene chali giya. Koi kai bolta nahin. Tamune kai kai nakhra sujechh.... (he takes a breath) kaun jaane tara bairi tara saathe kem rahta hose? Chhe ke haju taare saathe, ke chorhine naasi giyechh?"

(Did I call you? Did I say, come to my shop and drink tea? You are the one who climbed the steps and came. Today there are no complaints. Everyone's quietly drunk their tea and gone. No one said anything. What are these tantrums that you come up with .... God knows how your wife stays with you. Is she still with you or has she eloped and run away)

Guess we can count our blessings the next time our waiter is slow. Or doesn't smile at us.

We have Freddy Kerawalla to thank for this story from more than thirty years back. A man who discovered Ferrero Rocher for the first time in his life today. And is smitten.

Update: I am pasting this comment from my friend Harshad Rajadhyaksha, a Maharashtrian with the heart of an Irani  Cafe owner and a Bengali Union leader. I had read about this sometime back and thought that this is an interesting peak into the past of Harshad's beloved Mumbai:

"Kalyan, here's a little bit of trivia on the Iranis of Bombay, that I had come across a while ago. Apparently, early last century, Bombay was seeing its first crop of 'block' buildings, with commercial spaces available at the ground level. While the predominant Gujarati traders lapped up most of these spaces, the prevailing superstition amongst them was that the corner shops, with their 'goumukhi' shape (like a cow's face) were inauspicious for business. So these technically premium places, which gave access to the premises from two streets largely remained unoccupied.

And one community's superstition was another's profit. So the Iranis who had come in and were setting up their restaurants couldn't believe their luck, and lapped up many of these building corner shops.

So even today, so many of Bombay's remaining Irani cafes are found on building corners!"

Aidy Mole where are you ... The Diary of someone well over 13 3/4 years old

Well nothing much to write about.

The melancholy of monsoon's setting in. Mumbai has been as damp and gloomy as it could be. No new eats. No new cooking. Pa in law's birthday yesterday brought in some tandoori and gulab jamoon cheer. But it needs a lot more. For two of my favourite people are leaving town. One, my first editor. The other my food partner in crime at work. The end of an era as Joey said in FRIENDS. Plus something that I was really looking forward to around the area of food blogging didn't quite work out.

Right now my writing table is out of the study. In the drawing room. Can't lock myself and write. My photo 'studio' is submerged under a Tsunami of bowls, biscuit jars and glasses. Teenage angst a reality in the middle of the thirties.The writing Mojo's gone. Missing my solitude. Typing and retyping. The juices are dry. Typos rampant. Trying to type with conversation directed towards me in the background. I know it's rude. Not filial. Vijay of Deewar would disapprove.

Admiring mummy bloggers as I type. How do they do it? Yet knowing that it's not quite right to think this way. Little worries in the universe's scheme of things. Regret is a difficult cross to bear. But still...

I was probably the only Bengali who didn't know that there was a Brazil Portugal FIFA match this evening. Probably the only Bengali who watched a part of the match from the treadmill. Probably the only Bengali who didn't watch the match till the end. Who thought that it was a knock out match and SMS'd a friend to know what happened in extra time. And was chided for being so uninformed. I guess I will loose my union card for that.

But then I am one of the few Bengalis in Mumbai tonight who will have aloo posto, machher mudo diye daal, rui bhaaja and bhaat for dinner. So take that.

Talking of the gym I made myself a nice snack of pan toasted (oil free) bread sandwiched with feta, pine nuts, California raisins and finely chopped tomatoes in between returning from work and going to the gym. Tasty and power packed.  Mummy bloggers, give it a try. Should make a nice office lunch too.

On your marks.... quick fix raita

This post is in case you thought 'raita' to be this mysterious dish which is not to be made at home. A dish that adds about Rs 60 (1 USD) to your bill in restaurants. Raita is actually very easy to make.

I was rather hungry during dinner today. I had gone to the gym. I did the leg routine. The most torturous thing know to man. Even if you do the stuff without weights like this mid 30s with a bad back does. Mid way into my dinner of roti and chicken chaap I realised that I would be hungry after I ate. That I would later reach for the Chaklis in the snack box. I wanted to avoid that. So I looked around the kitchen and made myself a raita in twenty seconds or so.

Here's what I did:

• There were 4,5 rings of cucumber around. I cut them into small pieces with a knife
• Put these a bowl and added curd or dahi and filled it. I use Nestle Probiotic dahi
• To this I added a pinch, literally, of red chilly powder, jeera or cumin powder and half a teaspoon of crushed black pepper. I did not add salt or pepper. They weren't required in the final analysis
• I looked into the fridge and found some curry leaves. Took four out. Shredded them with my hands and added them
• Then I did something very unconventional. I took two or three basil leaves from the fridge shredded them and added them to the bowl. And 7 or 8 pine nuts. Neither goes into a traditional raita. But the basil gave it a fresh, cool bite and the pine nuts made it a bit more wholesome and filling
• I slowly stirred this mix with a spoon and the raita was done. Satisfied my hunger. Tasted pretty good. The Indian touch of the curry leaves with the Italian basil made for a nice jugalbandhi of tastes.

Note: You might not have all these ingredients at home at a given time. Try adding chopped tomatoes, carrots, onions (which won't help your 'lonely heart status) with or instead of cucumbers. Coriander or dhania leaves, pudina or mint leaves and chopped green chillies could substitute curry leaves. Let your imagination run wild

A fancy, domesticated, raita would have a tadka where mustard seeds, curry leaves, spices could be sautéed in a bit of oil and added to the raita.

PS: I did munch a few chaklis later

Reaffirmation: Yellow Tree, Bandra

The advantage of food blogging is that you get to see a restaurant as a regular customer would. And can be frank about what you write. The weakness compared to an organised review is that you do not get to taste a larger range of what a place has to offer. I prefer the former though. I feel constrained when I am at an organised review. Even if the food is free. I feel bowed down by the weight of my host's expectations. With the Chef at his conscious best.

The problem for the reader of 'blog reviews' is that you get feedback on very few dishes. Even if this is from the heart. You don't get a perspective on the whole range on offer.

One solution is for readers to drop in their comments for all to see if they have gone to the same place. Shaswati's comment on Bespoke Cafe was a good example as we got to know about dishes (omelette, black bean burger) beyond what I had written about. Or you have to wait for blogger to return to a place and try out more things.

We did so at Yellow Tree when Kainaz took mom and me for lunch on Saturday.

The occasion was Banu's French leave. Well I was really pleased with the experience this time too. Felt good to see that a new place, which I had praised, live up to my recommendation of it. Felt like a proud parent.

The service was competent. The waiter was middle aged. Not really suave. But knew his job and answered our questions satisfactorily.

Kainaz ordered  grilled chicken sausages with peppers. The dish was a riot of colours. The taste lived up to it. The sausages were very succulent. They had drizzled some pesto sauce which took the sausages to the next level. There were large pieces of bell pepper which had a nice bite to them and weren't chunky at all. A very promising start to the meal.

My tenderloin steak arrived. Medium done. One bite and I knew that it was a 70 mm blockbuster. The meat was really tender. Had a fresh, pink hue to it of meat which was cooked to perfection. Meat whose pedigree didn't need to be hidden by over cooking or torching. Each bite of beef melted this pork lover's heart. It wasn't just meat. It was a seven year itch. I couldn't have had the whole thing by myself and K helped me with a few forkfuls. Living up to her wedding vows.

Mom had a 'healthy' plate of fish and chips. I took a few satisfactory bites. They had put a slight masala marinade to make Old Blighty's former national dish more palatable in the real land of chicken tikka masala.

Happy with our dishes, my eyes begun to stray to the next table. A couple there had ordered a focaccia bread sandwich. I was really happy to see the bread look resplendent in its original glory. Different from the grilled and flattened focaccia bread served in most places. I nodded in approval.

We left Yellow Tree in a happy mood. Knowing that we would return again.

Note: These pics were taken with my Nokia E71. Apparently a superstar if it gets proper lighting

Finely Chopped on DNA

Check out this article on Food Bloggers which come out on DNA. Coincidentally this came out on a morning when my mom told me not to stay up late at night and blog. As she said, “you will never be too old for me”. Which is fine but then could I do without the greying side whiskers please?

Rushina of A Perfect Bite and Kirti of Feastguru.com and I were together for lunch the previous day itself. A coincidence again
I guess that has been the best part of blogging for me. The friends that I have made through it.

The article mentions that the blog was started by Kainaz and a friend. Turns out that I gave the wrong information. The 'friend' had showed what has to be done while K was the one who actually opened it. She, of course, was the one who named it 'Finely Chopped'.


Here’s the link to the full article.

The Mutton Biriyani Diaries ... Bon Voyage Kirti

Caveat: this post is not about mutton biriyani

I often introduce him as my 'first internet blind date'.

Let me set the record straight. He is also my first editor. The first person to publish a piece written by me. He later made me a part of his editorial board. I often had visions of us sitting across the table, wearing top hats, smoking cigars, talking about scoops. Scoops of ice cream that is. The first and only person to organise restaurant reviews for me. The only man I know who can make the perfect Calcutta Biriyani at home. The person who has taught me how to use the 'macro' function in cameras for food photography. With whom I have had long Google chats on what works for each of us in restaurants and in foods. Chats, which I once told him, should be recorded for posterity the way letters between Gandhi and Tagore were preserved.

You still want to know how he is my 'first internet blind date'?

It started in the pre Blogger and Facebook days when there used to be something called Orkut. Towards the end of 2007. I was a part of the Bombay Bong's group and would often comment on food there. Then someone called Kirti Poddar wrote to me and referred to a 'proposition'. I was new to social media then. Wary of honey traps. Thought he was a Gujarati lady with nefarious intentions. This is not a slur on Gujaratis or/ and women be any means. Just wondered why such a person would get in touch with me if we had nothing in common. We Bengalis err on the side of conservatism. I didn't reply to his scrap.

Then Kirti wrote again and introduced himself. I realised that 'Kirti' was a man's name in this case. 'Poddar' was a Bengali surname too. And more importantly that he and his family worshipped food. We spoke. I sensed his passion for food. Found out that he was 'Stupid' well before Diesel told us that it was OK to be so. That he had quit his job to build his own food web site Feastguru.com. A man who gave meaning to the phrase 'living your dreams'.

After many conversations we met for the first time when he organised my first formal food review at Zenzi. We got along like a house on fire since. A rather unfortunate play of words as he and his family recently survived a big fire scare in their building. But are all safe since. A harrowing incident which Kirti later recounted with his usual cheerfulness while we cringed.

Kirti, and his lovely wife, Rumni, are must haves when we throw parties at our place.

This is what you can expect when you call them over. Rumni, or Tinku as she is known, will compliment you on the weight you have lost and quietly give you a lot of help and encouragement as you put the food together. Kirti meanwhile would be holding forth on topics ranging from the bad grammar of children in Mumbai to the seven Rupee beef kebabs at Noor Mohammadi to the beef at Crawford Market to the prawns at Dadar Market to the 'rip off' prices of Sweet Bengal and the amazing value of Peeping Tom versus the rolls of Hangla. He would be the last to eat. He would be the one to eat with the most gusto. The one to follow it with the loudest and most eloquent of praise. He is known to sing, off key I suspect, as Tinku drives home.

Kirti is the 'Chief Foodie' of Feastguru.com. Tinku has been his squaw for twenty one years now. A romance which started well before that. A couple for whom the phrase 'butter to bread, breath to my life'  (from Julie and Julia) was written for. They have two lovely daughters. Both well trained in the world of food.

So what do you expect if the Chief Foodie and his squaw invite you for a meal?

Well, let's take a look at what was there for lunch today. Cheese and olive rolled in salami. Mince pork kebabs. Juicy. Deep fried cheese and potato balls. Bites of ecstasy. All of this would be fried after the guests come and served piping hot. Garnished with blood, sweat and our tears of joy.

I was disappointed that Kirti's trademark mutton biriyani wasn't there for lunch today. That was my payment for my first article for him which was on Martin's Colaba. (the original feastguru link is lost in ether)

But there was roast beef which made up for that. Roasted to perfection. With a slight moist, buttery touch on the surface. How can a meat so robust be so tender. A softie at heart like its chef. So delectable that it made a pork lover like me change sides as I dug into this heavenly roast. There was mince pork sautéed in onions which would vie for your attention. Indian beef curry  taken out from the fridge and shared with us. Kosha murghi, mashed potato and salad from the Chief Squaw's Hot Pot. Prawn curry which she took out specially for me after the others finished eating. Birthday cake followed. Little wonder that I almost gave up on dinner.

A wonderful afternoon with conversation drifting from Platini to Tigana to Allan Lamb to Graeme Hick to Gatting to Maradona to Cannigia and eventually ended with where do you get the best kosha mangsho in town as you would expect with a group of Bong men in their 30s and 40s, their long suffering wives and other foodies.


I always get lost when I go to Kirti's house and call him for directions. Not this time. I got the cab to turn at the right place. Head up to the right apartment block. I finally got it right. Ironically, on my last visit to their house at Mumbai!

Kirti is heading to Bangalore with his family. He has decided to join the tribe of the smart again. For only a while I hope. He is like those characters in films such as The Pursuit of Happyness. You will him to win. You want him to win. You gain confidence when he wins. Your hopes are built on his winning. If there is anyone I know who will live his dream then it is my friend Kirti. 

And I have made Kirti and Tinku promise to keep a room ready for me in their new house in their new city.

The following is the first mail which Kirti had sent me. Recorded here for future generations:

15/12/2007

Hi Kalyan

I was trailing your writings on Orkut about food. Let me tell you a bit about myself and how www.feastguru.com was born.

After working for 18 years in the IT industry I got completely bored and thought that it would make sense for a petuk like me to create something which doesn't exist in India and at the same time brings my experience into good use. So I chucked away a nice comfortable and well-paying job 13 months ago to work on this venture, Thus, as they say, the rest is yet to be history.

Feastguru has been created from a foodie's perspective. Its all about getting the right information, reading the right stuff and being able to get deals and transact online.

The site will be going live in the next 48 hours and that is the time I will take you through the entire site and you will be amazed at what all it can do. You can blog, form communities, ask questions, post on message boards, get information on eateries, find out about special discounts and much more.

I am looking for people such as yourself who will provide content in terms of experiences, reviews and even articles. There is no money involved in this but yes there can be a lot of fun in it. If you are interested lets have a chat once the site is up. You can call me at '''''''''''

I am married for the last 19 years and live in Kandivali with my wife and two daughters. I miss Calcutta and whenever someone comes to Mumbai from there my parents send around 20 KGs of food!!!! I drive 30 KMs each way to get the right fish or meat. I probably make the best biryani - Kolkata style not the stuff that you get in Mumbai (That's what friends say).

Lets catch up and chat.

Warm regards

Kirti

I vouch for the last claim too.

The return of Mr Chow.... Bandra

A couple of years back I got excited when I ordered from a then new place called Mr Chow. I heard about it when they sent a bright red flyer with our newspaper.

A year and a half later I got disgusted by the drop in their standards and wrote about it. Didn't call in from them in a while.

A few days back mom and I were home for dinner and Banu had bunked. We did what any Bengali son and mother would do. We ordered Chinese. I didn't want the oil slick Chinese of 5 Spice (5 Spice lover Scarlett bear with me here).

The interaction started off positively as the man taking the order on the phone at Mr Chow seemed quite sensible. I just went through my earlier posts and saw that this was a strength of Mr Chow earlier too.

We sat down for our dinner of mixed fried rice and chicken in cracked red chilly. The latter was recommended by them when I said that I was looking for a fry dish in chicken.

A few bites and I did a double take. This was seriously good stuff. The boneless chicken was very succulent. All were leg pieces even though I had not specifically asked for the same. The cracked red chilly base was tantalising and edgy. The fried rice was fairly good, firm and well flavoured. This was not the food I had slammed in the past. It was time to eat the humble fortune cookie.

I hadn't actually taken pictures of the food that evening but stopped mid way through dinner and took photograph of whatever was left.

Good to see Mr Chow's return to form. Hope this continues.

When the clouds parted... Bespoke Cafe, Palladium Mall

Happy Fork texted me about The Bespoke Café. She did this when she heard about my back breaking experience at the Indigo Deli, Palladium. “The chairs at bespoke are very good” she vouched. “As is the pepper steak burger”.

Bespoke Café is a bit difficult to find. As Happy Fork said, it’s possible empty because it is not easy to spot. It is inside The Collective Store at one end of the second floor of Palladium. The second floor doesn’t have loos but the store had a couple of very Greek (white and blue themed) elegant loos which were almost the size of the bedroom in our earlier flat.

Bespoke Cafe does look very different at the first glance itself. Stained glass windows. Colourful red glasses on the table. High backed leather sofas reminiscent of the proverbial stretch limo. The sofas were fairly comfortable to sit on. One could spread out unlike in the large, yet cramped and packed, Indigo Deli. The only catch was when you tried to eat. It was a bit difficult to reach the table while sitting on the sofa. Though the head waiter, very thoughtfully, pushed our sofas in after the food arrived. Which was a lifetime after we ordered. But the quality showed the value of ‘slow food’

I started off with a Sula Merlot. I don’t claim to understand wines. But this had a  playful bouquet (fragrance) and had a nice chirpy taste. Just what one needed to liven things when it was pouring and dark and wet outside.

I ordered a blue cheese pepper burger, medium to well done. This was recommended by Happy Fork. It did take some time to arrive after we ordered. But my eyes lit up when it did. A mound of rich, succulent meat. I could almost hear Tony Bourdain say ‘come to Mama’ as this was brought.

The burger patty was as royal and robust as it looked. The meat was tender with the odd scrunch as it was done medium to rare. Very juicy. Luscious.

I have developed a taste for blue cheese thanks to Jamshed Uncle who is really fond of it. I wondered how this very strong tasting cheese would sit in a burger. Well, as the head waiter explained, the cheese had seeped into the burger. The resultant taste was a muted milky, cheese taste which cut through the beef and made its presence felt in every bite. It teased but didn’t drown. Very different from Thousand Island dressing in the Indigo Deli sandwich which dominated everything else just as those blasted Vuvuzela Horns do during the Fifa World Cup games at South Africa.

I have often said ‘pshaw’ when American food shows on TV go ballistic over burgers. How can ‘fast’ food awe and be considered haute cuisine? Typical American exaggeration. Well the burger at Bespoke Café made me rethink my world view on burgers. Yes, burgers can be special.

We also ordered a grilled chicken pesto with goat cheese sandwich. I had a bite from the corner of the sandwich without the chicken. Tasted pretty and well flavoured. Once again I could taste the cheese unlike in the Indigo Deli sandwich which had claimed to have ‘Swiss Cheese’ in it.

We were too stuffed and stretched for time to try dessert and coffees.

I am quite sure that I’ll come back to Bespoke Cafe. It has a far more limited menu than Indigo Deli. But shows a lot of promise. As the head waiter told me, it’s run by the same folks who run Mocha and Salt Water Grill. The pedigree showed.

Of Snips and Snails and Sugar and Spice... Indigo Deli, Palladium

I am not sure about my feelings about Indigo Deli at Palladium. Which is a strange state of mind to be in after spending close to Rs 1000 (20 USD) between two on a rather thrifty meal.

What I know for sure is that the low chairs are designed to give you a back ache. I got spasms in the back after lunch and needed diathermy in the evening. My lunch mate that day, and friends who went on the previous day, had all ended up with aching backs too.  This is probably not moot to a restaurant review. Except in a place which is expensive and charges you for the ambience. Oh, and the tables are pretty small. So if you get a two seater then you have no place to keep your shopping bags. Even if it holds just two books from Landmark, the excellent book shop at Phoenix. Which is funny given that Indigo is located in a shopping complex. And I did get bumped quite a few times by the kids in the table behind us which had family with rather lax and indulgent parents. The lack of a space between table could be blamed too.

Talking of the ambience I loved the deep and cavernous feel which is so difficult to find in the congested heart of Mumbai. If you are a food lover then walking past an array of surprisingly moderately priced breads and then sitting by a long cheese counter, a well stocked meat counter and a sensuous dessert counter can be very comforting.

The restaurant was packed the afternoon we went there. Yet the waiters didn't loose their cool. The girl attending our table answered the few questions that we had competently. The food took a very long time to arrive though.

They got us a plate of warm, tasty, soft white bread on the house once we placed the order. The house honey mustard sauce which came with it was phenomenal. It teased and tantalised your taste buds. It's available on sale too I think.

I was  warned that the sandwiches were too big for one person. We decided to share one between the two of us. A wise decision. We ordered a pastrami foccacio sandwich. It was a grilled sandwich. My problem with grilling breads such as ciabatta or foccacio is that the delicate essence of the bread is usually lost. Instead it is torched into faceless uniformity. That happened here too. The menu promised 'Swiss' cheese in the sandwich. But the Thousand Island dressing doused all other flavours. I sensed a faint Gruyere like bite of cheese in one of my last bites. But that's it. This was the first time that I had had pastrami. I guess that it is a cured meat and was rather dry for my taste. The sandwich satisfied. But didn't enthral.

Ips, my lunch mate from work, ordered a baked potato with sour cream and bacon bits as she reminisced about the huge baked potatoes that she saw in departmental stores at Moscow. The Indian baked potato  was more petite though. It didn't do much to either of us. The potato had no flavour at all. The sour cream was sleepy and inert. Then I added a pinch of salt and a spot of the excellent table mustard and the dish erupted in its full glory.

The sandwich and baked potato was more than enough for the two of us. And we are not those who pick at our plate. We give food the respect it deserves. So you can use as a good yardstick in terms of what portions to order.

Indigo deli also has a range of steaks, pastas, cheeses, meats and salads to offer. The ham and smoked meat quiche that I eyed when we came in looked a bit overdone though. It was on display in the counter. Given the chairs I doubt if I will try these in a hurry now.

We zeroed in on the dessert counter after lunch. I had recently bumped into a gentleman called Freddy at Sante who had recommended the bread pudding at Indigo Deli. We went for it. It was made with croissants as Freddy promised. And Bourbon. Something they didn't skimp on. A sharp, stinging kiss of Bourbon followed each bite. The pudding was truly spectacular. The croissants were baked to perfection. The texture was lovely. The balance of sweet was perfect. Must take more tips on what to order from Freddy the next time I meet him.

Whether the pudding was better than the very seductive looking chocolate desserts which we said 'no' to is difficult to say. Need to research this. Possibly at the risk of breaking my back.

I paired the pudding with a robust Brazilian coffee which they served in a French press with milk on the side. It went well with the damp weather outside.

A glorious ending after an indifferent start.

Getting the veggies to work... Couscous ma Funghi Salad

Jamie Oliver has his mission on improving the quality of food that children eat in schools in the UK. I have my mission of improving the quality of the food that I eat at work. As a part of this I cooked up zucchini salads, chicken mince couscous salads, chicken pates, hummus with chicken mince. Then Pinku pointed out that meat was slowly creeping into my lunches. This is pertinent as I try to avoid meat at lunch at work given the high amount of meat one eats. So I went back to the drawing board and came up with this lovely mushroom cous cous salad.

Here's the recipe:

• Put 250g chopped button mushroom, 50 g boiled sweet corn, some basil leaves, some pine nuts, half a chopped tomato, one finely chopped bird's eye chilly, some olive oil, salt and Tabasco sauce in a micro plate
• Cook it for about 6 minutes

• Prepare couscous by adding water heated for 2 minutes to a ready made couscous mix (Rs 130/ 2.2 USD odd a pack)
  
  

• Add the couscous to the veggies, mix and put into a box. I added some creamy French feta to give it a Mediterranean bite. And some fresh basil. It also kept the salad fairly moist as I had it a while later at work.

It tasted pretty good and I finished the entire amount that I had got to work. The dish was light and yet not dry thanks to the Feta. The sweet corn balanced the heat of the red chillies. Mushrooms gave it a nice spongy bite. Basil, a minty, fresh feel to liven up the afternoon.

The portion cooked added up to breakfast, lunch and a side salad for my mother too

Note: The name on the dish is a play on the Gujarati langauge. Gujaratis in Mumbai are largely vegetarian. Many of whom are open to experimenting with cuisines within the boundaries of green.

Mamma's daal: Dhansak Recipe

Dhansak is arguably the most famous Parsi dish. Yet you will never get it in a Parsi Wedding or navjote or other happy feasts. For it is a funeral dish. So your best hope to get an authentic dhansak is to get invited to a Parsi house. The thing with Dhansak is that it takes four hours and a granny’s love and patience to cook it.

This is my wife’s granny’s dhansak recipe. The Late Manijeh Kerewalla, known as Mamma in the family. Suitably customised for Modern Times where no one has four hours to cook a dish. We got the recipe from her son who wrote it down for us. He also gave us a treasure trove recently. Recipes painstakingly written down by Mamma with her own hands. Yellowing, crumbling sheets of paper which hide a million stories within them.

Ingredients for Mamma's Dhansak Daal,:

·         Toor daal : 125 g

·         1 small brinjal

·         1 piece of pumpkin

·         1 chopped onion

·         1 large potato cut into cubes

·         1 teaspoon methi seeds

·         1 teaspoon dhan jeera masala or Dhansak masala

·         1 teapoon turmeric powder

·         1 teaspoon chilly powder

·         1.5 teaspoon ginger garlic paste

·         Salt

·         1 teaspoon pepper powder

·         1.5 teaspoons butter

·         2 tablespoons chopped coriander leaves

Process:

·         Wash and soak the toor daal for half an hour in two cups of water

·         Put all the spices,  and the vegetables in it

·         Put the mixture in a pressure cooker and cook on a high flame till there are three whistles. Put it on low flame for half an hour after that

·         Open the cooker when it cools and the steam is released

·         Add a bit of water to loosen the daal and mash it with a spoon (only the mutton pieces should remain whole)

·         Add pepper powder and coriander leaves and let the mixture simmer for five minutes. Stir gently so that no lumps are formed

·         Add the butter or ghee on top of the dal, shut the gas and keep the dhansak covered for five minutes so that all the flavours infuse in

This should be had with rice caramelised with deep fried onion  

PS: Traditional dhansak has mutton in it. You can cook some mutton and add it to the dal when you take it out of the cooker.

 
Talking of grannies, this is what Siti of Malaysia had to say in a conversation at  the Finely Chopped Facebook Page 

Siti Nurkiah Denni hey ^^..
whoa.. u did try it! the curry xD
well, mostly our curry slightly different from ur country of course =)
im good on cooking the curry. i learn from my mum and grandma.. they know everything from cooking to baking..
sadly, my grandma already passed away and i dont have chance to dig her knowledge about cooking.....

And further when I told her about my granny in Calcutta

Siti Nurkiah Denni aww~ dats soo sweet! =)
better take the chance, learn with her,

Thanks Siti, I look forward to going back to your wonderful country in a few days.

By the  way Banu and I made quite a decent dhansak today. Mamma's grand daughter, Kainaz, approved of it. The colour and consistency looked close to the original. And yet it wasn't the same.


This is what I instructed Banu to do;

• Soak 250 g Toor daal in water
• Put in a  100 g piece of pumpkin and 2,3  peeled small aubergines in the dal and water and put it in the pressure cooker
• Shut the lid and cook on high till there are three whistles
• Let it simmer on a low flame for ten minutes
• Take it out and blend the mixture in the Mixer Grinder

What follows from here was a deviation from Mamma's recipe and as per the instructions on the pack

• Heat a tablespoon of chopped onion in oil
• Add the dal to this, two tablespoons of Dhansak masala (which you get at grocers at Mumbai) and a tablespoon of salt
• Let it cook for five minutes
• Add some chopped coriander leaves, cover with a lid and close the flame

Banu later told my Mom that she used to cook dhansak for 'Parsi Aunty' in our building. The recipe she described was similar to Mamma's... boil at one go version. This octogenarian, Freni Irani or Parsi Aunty, is very ill and in a hospital. Do keep her in your prayers.


We had this with fried surmai or king fish. Mamma would have approved. My mom, who is visiting us from Calcutta, liked it too

What's your obsession?

Chances are that it's food if you are on Finely Chopped. Again, if you are on this page, then the web could be a big part of your world And if you are Bong then the Fifa World cup would be right up there on your list. (Love the way Germany is running all over the field right now)

If you are not new to Finely Chopped then you would have noticed that I take a rather keen interest in what I eat. So I decide on what will be cooked in our house. Which means that I have to instruct our cook, Banu, on what to chop, store and cook. And when things are not to my liking then I wield the ladle myself.

Today was a day of things tailor-made to bug me. Begun by discovering that Banu had stored Pabda and Rohu, two different types of fish, in the SAME box in the fridge. Sacrilege. The over salted omelette at CBTL for breakfast. A rare slip. Banu's call to me while we were out at CBTL on what to cook. Racking my brains and giving her rather complicated instructions.

Going home tentatively. Wondering what she'd cooked up. Happy to see that the mudo diye daal (lentils with fish head) had been cooked properly. Horrified that the Eelish or Hilsa was charred and decimated while frying. Even though I had put the masala out and just left the last step to her.

Hilsa is a delicate fish. You don't fry it. You don't burn it. You don't singe it. You pat it gently like a baby. Turning it over carefully as the pan gets warn. You love it. You pamper it. You nourish it. You indulge it. It has to be tossed with care. Frying eelish is an art. And, as I told my mother, koda (deep) frying of eelish is fine for those who don't care about what they eat. Doesn't work for The Knife.

It needed a good dupurer ghoom (Bengali for afternoon siesta)  to soothe my frazzled nerves. A good fifty minutes in the gym after that helped. And a stolen coffee break at Gloria Jean's with Kainaz and a surprisingly good chicken quiche.

As I headed home I saw that a new Cinnabon store had opened opposite our house at Pali Naka, Bandra. My face lit up. The clouds began to part. God was remembering me again.These guys do wicked things with cinnamon buns, raisins, chocolate sauce and butter. The Cinnabon store at Souk, Dubai, gave me some much needed solace on a mad, mad night when we were starving as we were searching for a place for dinner. Thankfully we live in a lane next to Pali Naka now. So won't pile on 'excess baggage' every night.

I realised that I needed to give myself a break from cooking. AND from thinking up what Banu should cook. So I decided to order a biriyani for dinner. My favourite Kakori House said they were too busy. It was Sunday night. Kareems of Carter Road came to the rescue with a decent biriyani and shammi kebabs. I ordered K's favourite 'Cookies and Cream' from Amore which was a good way to end Sunday on a sweet note.


PS Given the way the day was, it was no surprise that the net connection broke and that the end of the post disappeared. But then Germany's scored four already and possibly more coming up. At least the match is exciting

Mummy's Day Out.... India Tea Centre, Churchgate

Folks have often written in asking for suggestions on where to go with their parents to eat out in Mumbai. The India Tea Centre at Resham Bhavan, Churchgate, is a good bet. It's prim, proper, laid back, old school, has a good range of food, teas, lazy, languorous, cosy, stately yet warm.

We headed there when my Mom wanted to take Kainaz and me out for lunch. We reached there after doing the customary 'Bandra Worli Sea Link by day time' sightseeing drive.

It was a nice and wet afternoon and Kainaz ordered hot pakodas and bhajiyas for us. I had a tough time photographing these as K was very hungry and looked increasingly menacing at me as I asked her to smile. But soon the magic off the bhajiyas won her over. K could almost hear the sound of oil from Mamma frying piping hot Bhajiyas for her. This was from the days when K would wake up from her Saturday afternoon naps during weekend trips at Mamma's during school.

Some memories never become cold.

For the record the Karmakar women did leave a pakoda for me to have after I finished taking the photos.

K kept rooting for the honey butter apple tree and soon managed to get Mama K to forget her diet worries and take a few sips. K then focussed her attention on my black currant ice tea. The Karmakar women love their tea... hot or cold... Green or sweet.

Kainaz and I had some lovely dhansak for lunch. She went for the traditional mutton version. I had the cholesterol watchers option of chicken. The meat in both was stellar. The dhansak taste home made. Very fulfilling.

That's my 'happy and content face' by the way.

Mrs K recommended char grilled rawas for the senior Mrs K. A recommendation which was highly approved off.

Scones to top it off. Triangular shaped versus the usual cylinders. K was perplexed at the change. Had a bite. Approved and dug in for more. It tasted as great as always. Mama K too was tempted.

The ladies graciously left a bite for me. Do we see a pattern here?

I hardly had the energy or zest to get up from the comfortable chair at the end. The entire mood was drowsy and peaceful. It was Saturday afternoon after all. Thankfully The Great Salami (with apologies to the Majumdar brothers) was there to drive us home and the three of us snored in harmony on the way back.