A holiday in pictures ... Sydney

A very close friend mine wrote in to me saying "your posts lack the usual enthusiasm".

The thing about such friends is that they don't beat around the bush and tend to know you well.

So you have got to do the with the photos on this FB link till then

The story of my Sydney eats in pictures. And no, I didn't eat all of what I shot

Kali Pujo and a hundred rupees worth of memories

Me: baaji kena hoyechhe? (have you bought fire crackers?)

Soumik: na na

no baaji

mutton yes (Not crackers, but mutton)

Well I guess this facebook chat from last night sums up ‘Diwali’ for many Bengalis.

To start with it is not Diwali for us.

It is Kali Pujo.

And never, ‘Happy Kali Pujo”.

In a way Ma Kaali, or the Goddess Kali, defines Kolkata. Kolkata’s most famous temple, the Kalighat Temple, is devoted to her. And there are definitely a lot more Kali Temples at Kolkata than Durga Temples. In fact there are hardly any of the latter.

Still there is no denying that the five day Durga Puja which happens about a month before Kali Pujo is THE event of the year for all Bengalis.

For those who follow cricket a comparison which comes to my mind is the World Cup this year which India won and was followed soon after by the IPL 2020. Five days of fun and frolic, new clothes, chatting endlessly into the night, pandal hopping, eating, ‘cultural evenings’ … a difficult package to match up right?

But Kali Pujo had two things that Durga Pujo didn’t.

Paatha boli or goat sacrifice. And the mutton curry the day after. 

A practice rare in today’s world. Though for many Bengalis mangshor jhol or mutton curry is de rigeur on Kali Pujo.

Well, honestly we just need an excuse to have mutton and this is as good as any.

The other, fireworks.

The Kali Pujo prayers happen at midnight on a new moon.

Accompanied by crackers that light up the sky and wake up the neighbours… it was all about scaring the evil spirits that Ma Kali was battling in the dark of night… the ear piercing ‘bombs’ – kaali potka, dodoma, chocolate bombs – the colourful rockets and tubris – and the favourite of kids – phool jhuris or sparklers. The simplest of crackers which evoked such joy, shock and awe while we were growing up.

I remember my first Kali Pujo just after we came to India and Kolkata. It was the start of the 80s and I was about 7 or 8 years old. I had just received hundred rupees worth of fireworks from my dad. As folks from that era would tell you, that was a BIG deal. My hundred rupee load of crackers became the talk of the hood. I stood with my mom, watching from a distance, as the para dadas lit the crackers for me.

Later Kali Pujo became all about terraces or ‘chhats’. 

Bursting crackers on my grandmom’s terrace after helping her light tiny birthday cake sized candles to ward off the evil spirits.

... and later on the terrace of our building complex at Kolkata. Each year passing by like pages of an album. The beginning where we would wait for grown ups to light up our crackers. A few pages later when we would light them ourselves under adult supervision and then with the rites of passage observed bursting crackers alone without chaperons …. the biggest thrill lighting crackers with cigarettes by the few who had entered the forbidden world of smoke…and bubblegum crushes …

… and then Bombay and trying to get excited about this thing called Diwali. Going to the terrace of my PG digs... now as an ‘uncle’, to supervise our landlord’s school-going son light crackers…

…and then the next page…holding hands and watching the firework displays that lit up the sky by the sea at Mumbai’s Marine Drive… seemed almost as grand as the hundred rupees worth of much simpler crackers from two decades before…

…and somewhere down the line Kali Pujo became a distant memory far away from the city of Kali…and Diwali just a set of holidays to crash out at home… or to plan a trip abroad around ...

For those back home at Mumbai today, the Notun Polli Durga Puja Club has a Kali Puja at the Bandra Hindu association near Hangla at Linking Road. Here’s the fb link

The Kangaroo Court ... The Australian Hotel, 242 Cafe & Deli , Sydney

The Australian Hotel at Sydney, and its kangaroo and croc pizzas, was one of the first things that I read about in Lonely Planet Australia. This was before my first trip here in April.

Couldn’t make it to the Australian Hotel that time.

Did manage to go there last Friday.

Sydneysiders do not seem to believe in wasting Friday night or weekends. Spending Friday evening on a treadmill at the gym could work back home at Bandra but not here I was told. So we headed out to The Rocks.

The Rocks was a lot livelier on Friday night than it was when we went there earlier mid-week.

We climbed up the stairs, crossed the popular beer garden on the terrace, and reached the Australian hotel.

The promised pizzas were there on the menu and we luckily managed to get a table too.

The crocodile pizza was with a Thai coconut cream dressing according to the menu. That sounded so wrong. We skipped that and went for the kangaroo pizza with Australian berries and a pepperoni one. With potato wedges to round up our dinner.

The wedges were good.

The pizzas?

Well they stood for everything that I hate in pizzas. Sticky cheese and an overdose of tomato puree. Reminiscent of the Amul ‘pizzas’ sold at the diaries of Mumbai. Except these had meat.

Scanty in the case of the roo. So didn’t really get a good taste of it. The pepperoni one at least came loaded with meat. Though one has had better at Australia.

For once Lonely Planet seemed to have got it horribly wrong. Though, to be fair, they didn’t really recommend the ‘food’ at the Australian Hotel.

Yes, if ‘experience’ is your thing then a taste of game meat in a pub that re-creates the past would work for you.

potato wedges

The Kangaroo pizza - very avoidable

pepperoni pizza

Thankfully I got a proper introduction to kangaroo meat a couple of days later.

This was at the Café 242 at Sydney’s New Town.

I was almost going to order a healthy mountain salmon when I changed tracks at Ash’s reco and went for the roo. Not the usual Sunday lunch stuff at India after after all.

Turned out to be a good call.

The kangaroo was served as a medium rare steak. Coupled a with a lovely buttery mash and some chopped brinjal which we won’t talk about.

The meat tasted fantastic. I am not a big fan of steaks. Too much of meat for me normally. But the roo steak at 242 was juicy, slightly sweet and enticing. The sort you couldn’t help ‘keep coming back’ to. A rare instance when I finished a steak.

Finally a proper introduction to kangaroo. Shot up high on my list of favourite meats now.  The pizza didn’t really do it justice and my earlier encounters were with kangaroo jerkies and cold cuts. This was the the real deal.

Kangaroo steak

Yes, I like kangaroos

Would have ordered salmon left to myself. Being in the right company helps

New Town, I was told, is the grungier and younger side of Sydney. A bit different from the carefully preserved and mausoleum-like Rocks. It is picturesque in it’s own way.

There was this chirpy little red café where we stopped for coffee before heading back. Looked warm and cosy and reminded me a bit of Candies in terms of the vibe.

The coffee and cakes were quite ordinary here though.

Well I always knew that Candies is the one place at Mumbai I would miss while travelling.

Though a got whiff of that the other night at The Rocks when we went to the Guylian Café and was welcomed back warmly by Jan, the manger there.

I guess the Guylian Café at The Rocks would work for me when I am Sydney.

When the ground shook for four decades ... Mom's post

A couple of days back I wrote a post called 'Shadow lines'. The title, of course, was that of the book by Amitav Ghosh which I was reading then. The post referred to food dishes at Sydney which sparked off memories from across continents.

Well I woke up at Sydney this morning and got this email from my mom:

"Hi! Enjoying? On Sunday there was an earthquake in Turkey. Once I was indirectly involved in a turkish earthquake. 


We were at tehran. An English driver drove our Audi to Tehran wth our goods. Your dad went to see him off to the Iran border. He left me and you with some non Bengali Indian doctors at Tehran. They lived in the hospital quarters. 


The whole day passed. At 9pm we heard that there was an earthquake at the Iran Turkey border exactly where your dad was to go.


I was at my wits end. the Indian Doctors were most unsympathetic.


I stood at one place holding you in my arms. It was the most frightful experience. 


Your dad came back after midnight and life returned to us. 


Turkey quakes always brings back those memories. 

Hope you are not bored. Pl share wth Knz or anyone u like. "

Well now you know where I get it from .... 

Beyond Gobi Manchurian... Yum Cha, Marigold, China Town, Sydney

I twice tried to eat at Sydney’s China Town before this.

The first night on my previous trip. And one afternoon this time.


Didn't work out.

Reached within kissing distance of China Town both times. But didn't make it to where the action lay.

First time ate at a Chinese restaurant at the cusp of where the China Town. And this time at a Korean place beside it.

A case of so near and yet so far.

Then things changed.

I am not sure if last evening had anything to do with it but perhaps going to Woolworths at Sydney’s Townhall, picking up local Australian produce, sauces made by a Japanese company, making chilli chicken and ham fried rice inspired by my Bengali mother did appeal to the Laughing Buddha.

I did make it to the heart of China Town today!

I caught up with Vishal, a young chef here whom I’d connected with on twitter. Vishal, @vishalkod on twitter, is from Mumbai and at 24 has probably seen more of the world than many 42 year olds.

We first went to the Chef’s store at Surrey Hills. There’s apparently a shortage of chefs here but you still have to get your own knives when you turn up up for a gig.

We then made a stop for my first and definitely my last Starbucks coffee at Australia. Tepid and limp as I had been warned when I landed.

Vishal then took me to a lane and said, this is Chinatown.

You could have knocked me down with the proverbial feather. It was just a lane away from where I had stopped the last two times. And yes, there was one ‘standard’ China Town lane beside the Hay Market with temple arches and lions and the other standard accessories and fitments. Restaurants here are often open late and chefs across the city come here to eat after work I was told.

We went to the Marigold restaurant which was inside a building beside the Hay Market for Yum Cha. Yum Cha is one thing which was recommended to me on my last trip but I couldn’t make space for it.

From what I gathered, Yum Cha, is a sort of a Chinese brunch where waiters come to your table with small plates of dim sums, pies, dumplings, noodles, rices, grills, colourful Chinese desserts. You pick what you want and eat them while sipping on tea. At the end they count the number of plates and calculate your bill.

Marigold was once recommended to Vishal by an Indonesian cabbie at Sydney who apparently knew more about Hindi films than even Vishal.

We had a smorgasbord of celestial treats – pork dumplings, pork baked buns, fried prawn and scallop dumplings, prawn toast, fish in red chilli with a fantastic deep seated heat…

More food passed by. Satiated, we had to say no to the smiling ladies who passed by with their trolleys. What we couldn’t eat. I photographed.

The food? All good. The sort that makes me break into a huge smile.

 But then that’s the thing with Asian food and me.

I guess good food is like true love.

You don’t have to work on it. You don’t have to acquire a taste for it.

Across 'The Shadow Lines' on Saturday ... Paddington Arms Hotel, Max Brenner, Sydney

"Everyone lives in a story...because stories were all that were there to live in. It was just a question of which one you chose" 


The Shadow Lines, Amitav Ghosh


Well I don't know what stories were hidden behind the picturesque houses with gardens and benches on them. The promises of an idyllic life whispered in to your ears.


The shop fronts with a manicured vintage look. The Paddington market which reminded me of the Bazar at Candies a weekend back. This one didn't wait for us to finish our lunch. At five in the evening.

Or in The Paddington Hotel from another era which fed our hunger that afternoon. The cuddly Aussie 100 per cent beef burger. The fish and chips. Yes, beer batter no grill. Evoking memories of Benfish's fish butter fry. The million dips. And the aoli I heard so much about. The beef nachos which evoked memories of chur mur at Dakshinapan to the Kolkatan stationed at Sydney. Too much of masala in it for me. 

Or in the store where the 'bald man' Max Brenner sold his chocolates. In the sips of the Italian thick chocolate at Sydney's Paddington Road which brought back memories of Melbourne head quartered San Churros and its thick chocolate at Bandra Waterfield Road.

A Saturday spent across the Shadow Lines.