Sunday, 28 August 2011

The Great Continent Tour of 1974 – IV – Switzerland & Paris – Mom’s Diaries

KK: This is the last instalment of Mom’s Continent tour memoirs from 1974.

These are the earlier posts:

1. Belgium & Holland

2. W Germany

3. Austria & Italy

Mom ends the posts by asking readers to write in with their experiences if they have visited the same places. I was reading about the Switzerland tales and what struck my was how similar things seemed when I went back about 35 years later.

The post is written by my mom. Keyed in by my sis in law.  Photographs taken by my father. I modelled for the photos!

It’s her birthday tomorrow :)

So here you go

“Two generations of Swiss Memories

Switzerland is too beautiful to be described. On our way, we saw snow covered Alps and fountains falling from the mountains.

We first went to Geneva. There we saw Lake Genève. Inside the lake there was a man made fountain which went up very high and then fell down in the lake itself. We liked it so much that we stood there for a long time and got ourselves photographed in different poses.

K at lake Geneve

In Geneva, we also liked the clock on the ground made with flowers. Little plants were planted in the shape of a clock. It had metal arms and showed time accurately. Switzerland is very famous for its watches.

Then we went to see the UN House, Red Cross house and WHO building and got ourselves photographed with the baby K.

 

Next we went to Lucerne. There we saw a beautiful lake named Lake Lucerne. There was a wooden bridge over it. The bridge was covered with wooden structures.

Years later when K grew up, he went to Switzerland, with his wife, to read a paper in a conference. They got themselves photographed in front of the same Lake Genève, the flower clock, Red Cross, U.N.O, and WHO buildings. They also went to Lucerne and stood on the wooden bridge over the lake. But K told me that the wooden bridge was burnt down in the in-between time and was reconstructed again. History, really, repeats itself.

K & his father outside the Red Cross Building

At night, we stayed in a ‘bed and breakfast’ near Lucerne. This place was away from the city. It was surrounded by snow covered mountains. Miles and miles of land were cultivated to grow vegetables. As we were towards the end of our trip, money was also diminishing. So more meals of boiled rice and potatoes followed. Looking at the fresh vegetables, we got tempted. K’s dad asked the care-taker if we could have some vegetables. The man very gladly handed over some white turnips and cauliflowers. At night, the boiled rice with vegetables and eggs, cooked in the gas stove, tasted better than a five star hotel meal.

After dinner, we went to sleep. It was almost midnight when K’s dad woke me up from sleep and asked me to see outside the window. I was awe-struck/moon-struck when I looked outside. The snow-capped mountains were flooded with moonlight. The snow of the mountains reflected back the moon rays. The whole scene seemed ethereal. It could only be compared with the Taj Mahal on a full moon night. When young, we read in fairy-tales about ‘Chander Pahar’ (in Bengali) meaning ‘hills made of the moon light’. That day I realized what it meant. Almost the whole night was spent watching the scene.

Next day we went to a place called Schilthorn in Switzerland by cable-car. At that time it was the longest cable car in the world. It cost us six pound each in 1974 (scribbled at the back of the photo). There was a revolving restaurant named ‘Piz Gloria’ at the end of the cable-car road. ‘Piz Gloria’ was at the top of the mountain. You could go there only by cable-car. It revolved very slowly and all around we could see only mountains covered with snow. We had some coffee and cake there. I wrote at the back of a picture postcard, ‘K had a great time with the girls in the restaurant.’

Paris

The next and the last city to be visited was Paris, the centre of art, culture, fashion, as well as night life. The city bustled with life and was very much unlike the port cities of Calais and Boulogne.

First we visited Eiffel Tower, the landmark of Paris. In front of the tower, we saw the bust of Eiffel. The tower was a huge and magnificent structure made of metal. We went to the top by a lift that too in stages. Up above, it was very windy. From the top, Paris looked like a perfect picture postcard.

The Eiffel Tower   The view from Eiffel TowerK with bust of Eiffel

We had put up in a hotel, which was very costly. K’s dad had discovered a ‘jalebi’ type of sweet in a shop and was very excited about it. The ‘rounds’ were a bit thinner but the sweet did look and taste somewhat like a ‘jalebi’.

Next day we went to the famous Art Gallery/ Louvre. As push-chairs were not allowed inside, K’s dad carried K, the six month old baby in his lap. It became a little strenuous at times.

Though I am not too much of an art person, I was looking forward to see the painting of Monalisa and her enigmatic smile. It is a painting worth seeing. From whichever side I looked at her, it seemed she was looking at me and smiling. We did take a few photos of Monalisa but as we were not allowed to use ‘flash bulbs’, all of them looked dark. We also saw many other statues and sculptures. One day was too little time to see the whole gallery. Now-a-days many books are being written about the conspiracies and secret graves under the Louvre but we were blissfully unaware of all those things at that time.

Photo of the painting of the  Mona Lisa at the LouvreStone statue of Venus at the Louvre  

We also saw the Cathedral of Notre Dam and Napoleon’s tomb.

Before I finish writing about Paris, I must say a few words about the ‘Pay-&-Use’ toilets of Paris as I have not seen toilets like that before. In Britain, this concept was almost unknown at that time as all the public toilets were kept very clean, free of cost, by the attendants. In India also, we had not heard about them. In Paris, however, there were quite a few. Most of these, ‘pay-&-use’ toilets were womanned/manned by ladies. There are many funny stories about these toilets and their lady attendants.

Finally, we reached Calais in the evening and Dover (UK) in the morning by crossing English Channel. This is, in short, the story of my visit to the European continent.

Almost four decades have passed since then. Until and unless some miracle happens, I shall never go back to these places again. I shall be very happy, if my young readers, who may go there on work or on vacation, let me know if they find any similarities with my experiences or the changes that have taken place. Many NRIs, living in the UK wrote to me about the present NHS system and the changes that have occurred, after reading my ‘UK Diaries’. This has emboldened me to make this request.

Good Bye

RK,

Gurgaon

27 July, 2011 “

Thursday, 25 August 2011

So what are the new quirky food places at Kolkata?

 

Flurys

A batch mate of mine from college wrote to me on FB the other day.

Can’t claim to have been, what they call BFF nowadays, when we were in college. We were both at Mumbai after college. Bumped into each other once at Snow Bite, the ice cream shop years back.

End of story.

Till there was Facebook and we connected again. We found out that we had a common passion for food. Something which was irrelevant in the relatively impoverished college days. She lives far away now and we talk about food across countries and continents. I heard in a recent dinner with college folks that she is married to a chef. Never asked her.

Then got this mail from her (J) in my FB inbox a few days back and our conversation started:

J: “Hi, need some dope on Cal - you seem like a good person to ask.
I myself have not much clue beyond what I knew 10 yrs ago! :-/:-/ Nor do I know many people there anymore...
Do you know some cool places? Eat, drink, live music are my areas of interest :):)
All tips very welcome! Especially a nice place for an aperitif and one for a special dinner.
Was hoping to steer clear of 5-star hotels and find something cool/quirky/charming. More an 'experience', if you know what I mean :):)
Have some pointers? Don't mean to be a pain, though... ;);)

Me: Well like all migrants I am stuck in a time warp. I stick to old favs during my limited days at Cal, Hardly go anywhere new. This is where I head: biryani shiraz, flurys - breakfast or coffee, mocambo fish a la diana, devilled crab, Chinese jimmy's kitchen, bong kewpies. oly pub for grunge. discovered a new place at south city mall which i like for Thai - Banjorang.

Here's my link to the cal write ups http://www.finelychopped.net/search/label/Calcutta%20reviews if it helps can put u on to my younger bro who used to go out q bit before he left for gurgaon... knows of more new gen places

J: I kind of thought so, but I gave it a shot :):) Yeah, it always feels 'enough' to revisit the places that push the nostalgia button. Besides, the 'new gen' places I heard of sounded too generic to waste the limited time on.
So I was actually hoping for something new, yet quaint, with 'Cal character'..when I said 'cool', I didn't mean fashionable - more quirky cool :):)
If your brother knows something, I could write him, but I don't want to be a pain!
Btw, you know anything of this Floatel?
Thanks a lot, Kolly! :):)

Me: Cal is hardly into quirky. It wants to be Mumbai

J: I've seen that. Sad. Cal was a prime candidate for 'quirky'. Which is why I hoped...

Me: The quirky Bengalis have left cal :):)

J: You're probably right... From what I've seen, it's the Great Hand of homogenization at work there...clinical and characterless

Me: Yes walk through park street. Every restaurant has big glass fronts. Anything new is either kitsch or part of chains and standardized

And this is when the penny dropped. I was behaving like a typical migrant. Rooted to the past. Pooh poohing the past. Claiming to be in a much better place. Rubbishing my origins.

I was guilty of the sort of boorish behaviour that I have seen in Indian expats abroad who, once away, rubbish everything about ‘back home’. They would be the first to upload links on things going wrong in India today. From their highs of Team Anna and corrupt India to the lows of Team India in cricket and the bomb blasts in between. There was someone who even wished India a happy independence day recently and congratulated India from entering the ‘space age’ from the bullock cart age. In two frigging thousand and eleven! Someone who was in his half pants in Calcutta when Rakesh Sharma went into outer space in the early 1980s.

The truth is I am not the best person to talk about what’s happening at Kolkata. My Calcutta is not today’s Kolkata. I have lost touch with it. Today I am a tourist in the city I moved in to when I was about seven and left when I was in my early 20s.

When I am at Kolkata I move around with a camera.

Well I do that in Mumbai too but you know what I mean.

So if you know what is new in Kolkata. Quirky, quaint and cool. And I am talking of food and not of Didi or Paschimbongo then please write in so that J can have a great homecoming when she returns to Kolkata.

Sunday, 21 August 2011

Seat of the pants cooking… Butter pepper garlic squids in Goan Port with a hint of Dutch Goat Cheese

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Have you ever been in a situation where you set off according to a plan and suddenly saw things fall apart? Had to think on your feet to salvage the situation? In the kitchen?

Well that’s what happened last night.

I got some fresh squids (500g) from Pushpa and Sangeeta’s at the Khar Fish Market. Along with Bombay Duck, pomfret and after a long long wait a 2 kilo Hilsa. The fish sellers here de-scale and cut the fish and clean the squids too. I got my squids cut into rings.

I was going to make my butter pepper garlic squid. I have made this a few times before. Turned out well.
Planned a couple of twists this time. Adding some chilli stuffed olives that were at home. And some Port which I had bought earlier to tenderise meat. No problems here right?

Well let’s see what happened.

I pounded 4 garlic cloves & 4 olives stuffed with chillies in the mortar and pestle.

squids cut into rings                      garlic olive paste

Then heated a flat pan. Put a tablespoon of butter and saw it slowly melt. One of the most sensuous sights that you will ever see in the kitchen.

Added the garlic and olive paste to the melted butter and stirred it gently. The aroma aphrodisiacal.

melting butter                    the garlic olive paste hits the butter             
Then in went the squids, some salt and pepper sprinkled over it.

Now this is where the recipe normally ends as I gently stir the squids for a while till they become firm & ready. Most importantly not over cooked, chewy and rubbery.

And then the deviation from the plan that night.

I added about 4,5 tablespoon of Goan Port and stirred. No fancy flambé here. The sauce reduced a bit but not enough. Now I knew that if I waited for the sauce to dry up then the squids would be over cooked. That would not do.

 SONY DSC                       SONY DSC

So quick change of plans. What was meant to be stir fried squids would now be squids in a light wine sauce. This is not how things were meant to be. But ce est la vie and all that jazz.

I took the dish to the drawing room to photograph. On the table were some of the cold cuts and goat cheese that Rao had sent for me from Amsterdam. We were going to have these with a lovely multi grain baguette from Candies for dinner along with the squids.

Sudden inspiration struck. I got the grater out and grated in a few slivers of the sharp goat cheese into the sauce. Not more than a teaspoon collectively.

You didn’t want to loose the flavours of the squid. This was not Malvani or Mangalorean restaurant cooking after all where seafood is battered beyond recognition with spices.

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The result was a very delicately flavoured sauce which took in the flavours of the squid, the Port, the cheese, the olives, butter and garlic. The balance worked for K and the texture of the squids was just right. Not over cooked.

Moral of the story. If life doesn’t go according to plan then there is always good cheese.

And that, by the way, was the recipe too.

The night ended with some lovely chocolate liqueur made and sent to us by Chef Lenny.

Cheese & meats courtesy Rao from Amsterdam

The Great Continent Tour (1974) III – Austria & Italy – Mom’s diaries

After Germany my parents headed to Austria and then Italy. Coincidentally 27 years later my mom’s youngest sister and my dad’s pet and her family are unconsciously retracing their steps as they holiday in Europe.

These are the first two posts by my mom in the series:


Here’s the next. My little sis in law did the keying in and scanning which left me with very little work to do. Photos were taken by my father with his Pentax - K

Austria – The Sound of Music

Salzburg

After crossing the German border, we reached Austria. Our aim was to visit Salzburg and Innsbruck. Surrounded by the snow capped mountain Alps, this country is an extremely picturesque one.

First we went to Salzburg. Austria was so beautiful that many English films of that time were shot there. The main among them was ‘The Sound of Music’. It is the story of a love affair of a military man with the Governess of his seven children. The actual background of the story was not in Austria but it was shot in Salzburg, Austria because the location was very beautiful. The story may not be very great but as the title suggests, the songs are superb. We went to see the castle in Salzburg, where this film was shot. The castle was on the table land of a mountain top with a lot of space. It was magnificent to look at. A year or two back, I read in the newspaper that the castle was going up for sale. It made me a bit sad.

A happy birthday at Innsbruck

Our next destination was Innsbruck. Innsbruck is a tourist centre by the river Inns. It did not have many high rise buildings. Most of the houses were cottage shaped. Even today I remember that all the first floor houses had some cemented/wooden rack just below the balconies to keep small flower pots. There was no exception to it in any house. From the top of the mountain, the River Inns looked like a milky white thread winding its way through the mountains and the forests.

We stayed at Innsbruck for a day or two. People were very friendly, as in all tourist centres, and mostly spoke German.

We went to the market place of Innsbruck where all arrangements were made to entertain the tourists, free of cost. Men played on military band/orchestra and the girls danced to its tune. The buildings in the market place had ornamental architecture in the front. A three storied building had a golden slanting roof at the top.
Out of all European cities, Innsbruck is very special to me because I had the best birthday celebration there. It so happened that my birthday fell on a day when we were in Innsbruck.

We went to the mount Alps by a cable car to celebrate my birthday. The concept of cable car was quite new to me at that time. All around there were snow clad mountains and the cable car went through them round and round. Below we could see the winding river Inns. It felt heavenly.

The white cable cars and even the stations were maintained very well. We had my birthday lunch in a restaurant on the top of the Alps. Tiger-Lily flowers, picked from the mount Alps, and two huge birthday cards were my birthday gifts from K and his dad. K, though only six months old, looked very happy in all the photos.

 Aerial view of River Inns Building with a golden roof Cable car to Alps Birthday on the Alps Birthday lunch on the Alps birthday gifts Innsbruck

Milan – lost in translation

Next country in our itinerary was the famous canal city Venice in Italy. Before reaching Venice, we stopped in a motel at Milan. Every house in the city had vines loaded with green, unripe grapes.
In the motel, K’s dad drew the picture of a cow and a few drops of milk coming out of it. He gave the picture to a waiter to explain that we wanted some milk for K. But the waiter mistook the drawing of the cow to be a hen and bought a couple of eggs, in place of milk. More drawings followed and finally a glass of milk arrived. We did not, however, return the eggs and thought of putting it to good use. K’s dad took out the gas stove and boiled some rice and potatoes (a few items we always carried with us) along with the eggs. Taps in the bathroom were kept open so that the hissing sound of the gas stove would not go out. We had a gala dinner with the boiled rice, potatoes, eggs, a pinch of salt and a dollop of butter.

The romance of Venice

Venice

Next day we reached Venice. No car or any petrol/diesel vehicle was allowed in this city. So we parked our car in a multi-storeyed car park for a few days outside Venice.

Venice is different from all other European countries. This island in the sea is criss-crossed with canals. The only modes of conveyance were water buses and ‘gondolas.’ The Gondolas were ornamental boats for the tourists. Anybody going to Venice used to bring back a miniature ‘gondola’ as a souvenir. Some of the houses stood dangerously in the brink of the water. There were steep bridges over the canals to cross from one side to another. It was difficult for us to cross the bridges with the baby, his pushchair and a couple of bags. The Venetians admired K very much by calling him ‘bambino, bambino’(meaning a cute baby), pressing his cheeks and even kissing him. But they did not lend a hand to carry over the luggage which was very much unlike the Europeans.

At night, we went to see the Red Light city. There were small cottages with red lights in them standing at least 10 feet apart from each other. In all European cities, red light cities were shown as tourist spots, which seemed to be bizarre to me and showed the other side of the human face which revelled in the helplessness of the fellow humans.

Saint Marcus square was the main attraction of Venice. It was a big church with two statues ringing a bell at the top of the tower. The whole square was crowded with tourists and pigeons. There was a spirit of revelry all around. I, too, was gripped with the fever and insisted on buying an exquisitely woven cream coloured stole, which was beyond our pocket. K’s dad was very surprised as I was usually very undemanding. He, however, finally gave in and we got the stole. That stole still lies in one corner of my wardrobe, neglected, old and haggard like me. I did not, however, have the heart to throw it away.

In the evening there was an orchestra to entertain the tourists. You could ask for a tune to be played by paying a price for it. K’s dad asked for the music of ‘Love Story’ to be played. At night we had dinner like the Royals in a restaurant.

Next day we became paupers as we had spent most of the Liras kept for Venice. We survived the whole day by eating bread and sausages. But this could not hamper our spirit of happiness.

I still remember, though faintly, that we had pizza and some boiled legs/arms of an octopus in a small shop near the canal. But the pizza was very plain and I did not like the taste. Pizza was not so popular then either in Britain or India.

We always used to try the national food of the country when we were there. For example, we had tried ‘goulash,’ (boiled meat in gravy type of dish) while in Germany and Austria.

Saying goodbye to Venice, we proceeded towards Switzerland, which is everyone’s dream location for honeymoon.”  RK

To be continued

K at St Marcus Sq, Venice

Saturday, 20 August 2011

The Grilled Life …. Chicken in an Asian inspired chilli marinate

 

Asian styled grilled chicken

Over the past few days I have realised that one of the best cooking equipments to have at home for a lazy person or for a busy person or for someone intimidated by cooking or for the health conscious or for someone who likes variety in food is the OTG or oven toaster grill.

I have had loads of fun with our new OTG. So far I have just grilled in it. And toasted. I am yet to break my mental block and bake though many of you have been kind enough to send me some easy recipes for breads and cakes. But there’s no stopping me when it comes to grilling.

Take this dish for example. I had a bad bad cold the other day. The sort where your shoulders and chest ache when you sneeze. We went to Dr Miranda who sent me home with some lovely praline chocolates that her son had made. Meeting Dr M usually makes me feel better.

Came home. Realised that I needed something nice to eat. I took out some chicken drumsticks from the fridge. Thawed them in the micro and made this Asian styled grill.

The recipe doesn’t matter. The ingredients don’t matter. Nor do the proportions or the measurements. The idea of writing this post is just to show how quick and easy it was. I’ll try to put down what I did and you will do the recipe injustice if you don’t take your own creative leaps.

Recipe:

Marinate:

  • Pound 4 cloves of garlic and 2, 3 chopped red bird’s eye chillies in a mortar and pestle or in a blender. This gives a nice warm kick to the dish.
  • Add 1 teaspoon each of teriyaki (Japanese sweet soy) sauce, Sriracha (Thai red chilli) sauce, Thai fish sauce (for salt) & honey (to temper the salt) to the chilli & garlic mix and gently mix it

Prep:

  • Slash the chicken with a knife. That way the marinate will go deep into the meat and the flavours will spread evenly
  • Gently spread the marinate with a spoon over the chicken. I use my hands but keep your fingers away from your eyes if you do so
  • Oil the surface of your baking tray. Put an aluminium foil on it. Place the marinated chicken on this. Place some chopped onion bulbs between the drumsticks.
  • Let it marinate for at least half an hour. I got just ten minutes that day

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Grill:

  • Preheat the oven for ten minutes at 200 d Celsius
  • Put the tray of marinated chicken into the oven
  • Keep it in the oven for 30 minutes at 200 d Celsius
  • After 30 minutes the oven will turn off.
  • Keep the tray in the oven for another 5 minutes. Garnish with some chopped pepper/ capsicum, spring onion
  • Take out the tray and hold it with some sort of cloth pads as the tray will be very hot
  • That’s it. Cooked quite evenly and the meat was fairly juicy

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I had it with a Mama’s Tom Yum noodles. The only noodles premix that I really like. Bangkok, KL, Singapore, Calcutta, Melbourne, Sydney … I would stock these wherever I went. Thankfully found them at the Palladium at Lower Parel recently.

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Now off to put in some treadmill time before a dinner of butter pepper garlic squids tossed in port with some goat cheese and wurst that @Rao_v sent from Amsterdam on the side and Candies bread rolls. Sounds good? Perhaps some single malt with it and Chef Lenny’s home made liquor to end it.

Friday, 19 August 2011

A Maharashtrian snack in memory of Lord Dalhousie… Gokhale Upahar Griha, Thane

“The first railway line in India was between Bombay to Thane. A distance of 35 km. Services started in 1856. Lord Dalhousie was the Governor General of India . ”



Don’t hold me to the facts here but I remember learning this line in history in school when I was in the fifth standard.

That was the first time I heard of Thane. Little did I know that more than three decades later I would be at Thane eating dishes that I had never heard of when I was in school at Calcutta. Nor did I know that Mumbai would be my home.

Would be interesting to see how things are thirty years later. I am not going to place any bets.

I landed up at Thane recently for meetings. I wanted a bite before the long ride home when I last was there on Friday. Thane has many malls. I was very clear that I didn’t want to eat in a mall. Deepak, my colleague, who has grown up in these parts took me to one of his favourite joints. No, not the famous Mamledar with its very spicy missal paos.

This was a small shop called Gokhale Upahar Griha (Gokhale Snack House) at Thane’s busy Gokhale Road. This was my second visit there with Deepak. The first good enough to make me want to go again. On both occasions the place was packed with locals.

The best advertisement ever for an eatery.

There were three of us including one Maharashtrian in the group. This was his food after all. Deepak is a Marwari and I am Bengali. But that's Mumbai.

We ordered everything in sight.

Missal pao – mug pea gravy spiced just right with farsan or gram flour crackers giving the dish a rare contrasting crunch. Very few Indian dishes show such multiplicity of textures. And then there was the ‘upvas’ or fasting missal. In Maharashtra ‘fasting’ is not of the Gandhian or Anna Hazare sort. You just avoid certain dishes. The upvas misal was made with sabudana – sago – and had a very delectable gravy which was seasoned with curd. Had a nice cooling effect. The upvaas or fasting missal had potatoes in it - both boiled and fried potato straws. Fasting here is apparently high in calories!

I have had missal paos before. The one at Upahar would rank with the best. The upvas missal was a new experience.

missal pao
upvas missal
 

Bombay’s famous vada pao, thin layer of crisp gram flour enrobing a ball of mashed spiced potatoes. A security blanket of a dish. Gave pleasure here.

vada pao

Methi bhaajis or methi pakoras, so fresh that they didn’t tax your tummy despite being deep fried. The sort of stuff stuff a grandmother would make for you.

methi bhajiyas

Sabudana vadas or deep fried of sago. Always sticky whenever I have tried it it before. ‘Stick jaws’ that I normally avoid. At Up-ahar they were made perfectly. Giving in lovingly to each bite. I actually enjoyed sabudana vadas for a change.

savudana vada

The thali peeth was another pleasant surprise. I didn’t like it at Mumbai’s Prakash. Thought it was burnt there. The ones at Up-ahar were like nice crisp puris which were soft inside. In fact the food here was largely better than Prakash.


thali pith

There was no poha to compare with Prakash though. But the boys told me that you should never order poha in the evening in any shock. Likely to be leftovers from the morning.

Kokum juice, the local drink made with juice of the fruits of the kokum tree, as Saee points out in her comment, found at Maharashtra was just what one needed to tuck oneself in after a lovely meal. This is even used in curries as Amba told me at Pradeep Gomantak.

Deepak went for this purple coloured drink. The rest of us went for the sweet, but not heavy or thick, Piyush (creamy one). Again one of the best I have had. Er, the earlier time being at Prakash.

Kokum & piyush

Stopping to eat before the long journey back was a wise one given that it took my 50 min that Friday night to cross a kilometre between Pridarshani Park and Sion after I came out of the Highway. Two hours to reach home by car.

Lord Dalhousie was a wise man.

IMG01868-20110812-2013 Deepak our guide in the dark shirt & Chinmai with his soul drink IMG01866-20110812-2012

Note: Finely Chopped was featured in a recent article on Blogging in Delhi’s Hindustan Times. Here’s the link if you want to read it   http://tinyurl.com/3cgffpn

One more thing. We have become shorter.


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Monday, 15 August 2011

‘Fawlty Towers’ AKA Bhojohori Manna, Oshiwara, Mumbai

 

'good food'. Never believe billboards

It takes a lot of guts to open a Bengali restaurant and mess up things.

Us Bengalis, unlike the Pathans, the Punjabis or the Rajputs, aren’t a martial race. But mess around with our food and we can write some pretty vitriolic prose.

From what I understand Bijoli Grill at Mumbai had a rough ride when they started but it was all good by the time I went there. It is my favourite Bengali restaurant in town right now.

My fellow Bengali dinner mates said that we should be a bit patient with the Bhojohori Manna that has just opened at Oshiwara, Mumbai.

Teething troubles” they said with a smile.

I strongly doubt if they would have been as patient with a non-Bengali restaurant. Frankly this ‘new restaurant - handle with care’ argument doesn’t work for me as I still have to shell out regular rates when I eat at such places.

Bhojohori Manna was amongst the first of the spate of Bengali restaurants which opened at Calcutta soon after I left the city in the late 1990s. I never made it there on my trips back home and soon BM was out of the radar.

Recently one heard that the mountain had moved to Mohamat and that Bhojohori Manna had opened at Mumbai. A few of us made plans and headed off on the long drive to Oshiwara on a rainy night.

We finally reached Bhojohori Manna and saw the big board which said ‘valet parking’. On asking found that there was no valet.

Which sort of set the tone for the evening.

We went in, met our fellow Bengali friends. K, the lone non Bengali, explained how she prefers Bengali food to North Indian. Us Bongs scanned through the menu and our smiles began to widen as we saw the long list of dishes. This was a very extensive menu.

We began to order.

“Daab Chingri”

“Not there. It is over”

A good thing as we found out. Five daab chingris went to the adjacent table. Suddenly a sari clad lady on that table called for the waiter and said,  “These prawns aren’t good. They aren’t fresh. They are smelly. How old are they?”

Again a sign of things to follow.

“Mocha chingri” we continued.

“Not there today'”

I spoke up, “But you have it on the menu”

“Yes, but we don’t cook everything everyday”

The service at Bhojohori Manna was very authentic 20th century Kolkata. The experience very Fawlty Towers.

Our dinner got off to a good start I must admit.

Nice fish and mocha (banana flower) chops (croquettes). Good luchis – crisp, light, poetic. A very distinguished and deep kosha mangsho. Well cooked, well flavoured. Served surprisingly with boiled eggs in instead of potatoes.

The latter as natural as Gautam Gambhir captaining the Calcutta team while Saurav Ganguly still hadn’t officially retired. But like the KKR team in this season the kosha mangsho did reasonably well.

prawn cutlets luchis kosha mangsho with boiled egg

And then things changed. The nightmare at Amherst Street began. It was all downhill from there. Barring the alu posto.

alu posto

We were in a big group so we ordered the whole menu, whatever was available that is. And went in for repeated heartbreaks in the best traditions of those maudlin black and white Bengali films of yore.

A deep red coloured gravy dish came to our table. We couldn’t identify what it was.

“Shorshe pabda” we were told.

None of us had ever seen such a crimson rendition of this traditionally yellow mustard dish before…the shorshe or mustard taste was beautifully hidden as was any way of identifying the delicate pada fish which had been fried to charcoal like perfection.

The  shorshe pabda from the Red Planet would be as welcome in Bengal as would be Guru Greg.

Alleged shorshe pabda

Then came a plate of fairly authentic looking caatla kaalia. The only problem being that we had ordered a rather expensive chitol maccher petir kaalia. Not caatla!

In fact I chose the chitol as I told our group about how my grandmom had served this delicacy three decades back to my dad on Jamai Shoshthi (son in law’s day). I remembered the boneless fatty cut of fish with just 3 long bones from then though I was just eight.

But there was a problem. The fish was full of tiny bones. On inspection we found fins too. This was not the expensive peti or stomach cut. This was the lyaja or tail!

We called the waiter. He denied this. Said they only serve peti.

Which is when I looked at him menacingly and said “aamra shobai ranna kori”

(We all cook and know what we are talking off).

The fake chitol maachher petir kaalia was as gruesome as it looks in the photo.

Chital maacher kaalia. as ghastly as it looks

A mysterious lady in black came to our table and asked politely what the problem was. She looked rather lost when we said that it was the wrong fish. She floated off without saying anything. Only to make an equally pointless appearance later.

Was she Basil Fawlty? Or was she Manuel?

We wanted to check the biryani here. Called for an ilish or Hilsa Biryani. This is a Dhaka speciality which I recently learnt about from Kanishka whose mother in law cooks and sends it for him from there.

The pot of biryani came to our table. Expectations rose as I photographed it. Then a strange odour surround me. Folks started serving the biryani. And stopped.

The Hilsa was rotten. Spoilt.

We called the waiter and sent it back.

And as requested by the very polite and patient Rahul, I told them not to get it back.

rotten hilsa biryani

The Mystery Lady returned to out table and went:

“Please have our nolen gurer (jaggery) ice cream at the end. It is very good”.

And disappeared.

Was this the the salve to cool us down?

Very sweet and rather red prawn malai curry followed. The sweetness not a bad thing as we found out later. We did need a sweet end to our dinner after all. We would not get our just desserts that night.

The prawns were over cooked but since the curry was the only non- low of the session we called for another.

The next malai curry came. They had slyly slipped in the more expensive tiger prawn which we earlier said that we didn’t wont. Anyway we were too frazzled to put it politely by then, mind eff’ed, by then to argue.

Sgar syrupy prawn malai curryThe tiger prawn rip off 

Thought we would call for the desserts. There was the promised ice cream from the Mystery Lady. We wanted some mishti doi too.

The waiter came to take our order.

The ice cream was over!

We saw the Mystery Lady walk off with a plastic bag full of containers without a glance at us. Ice creams we hazarded.

So mishti doi it would be.

Except those were over.

“Too many home deliveries sir'”.

I smiled and asked for the bill.

“He is so patient” said the others at the table looking at me.

I was just waiting to to ‘get to the mattresses’.

Or the keyboard.

PS For whatever it is worth, the experiment cost our group of five a reasonable Rs 400 (10 USD) each. Plus fuel. And a good dinner.

the mysterdy lady walks off SONY DSC the finely chopped knights with K SONY DSC SONY DSC SONY DSC SONY DSC

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