|This is very much in Mumbai and not at the lofty Grand Trunk Road|
You might have noticed that my daily lunch blog posts have disappeared after we shifted to Fort.
What do I write about? The toxic channa bhature that I ate at Bombay Blues on day one when we crossed over to the West to eat? Or the attempted walk downstairs one day? When I discovered a vada pao stall. And three BMC garbage trucks beside that. The dust storm drove me in that afternoon. And we don’t have shower stalls at work. I never went down again. And then there was the day when I called for Chinese from a place called NH1. I know it was a silly idea but I had a bad throat and wanted something non spicy. Fried rice, lumpy soup and chicken pellets at Rs 330 made me feel like running back to Baba Ling’s arms. So it’s been Banu’s cooking from the previous day for lunch since then. Lunches from home. Except on a day like today when I forgot to tell her to keep lunch ready.
Sandeep, a North Indian vegetarian, with a strong point of view on good Punjabi food, told me about a dhaba at Andheri E. We drove down there today. The place was called Uttam da Dhaba at Marol, Andheri E. The drive from Andheri E station to Marol seemed like driving down to Ludhiana at Punjab itself. It was quite a long drive well past the cluster of five stars near the airport. Thankfully there was no traffic and we moved smoothly. Fortified by the Amul lassis that Sandeep carried.Take a look at the pictures of the badlands of Marol E and you will know why I miss Fort like a lovelorn teen.
We reached Uttam Da Dhaba and walked past a couple of guys working the tandoor. There was a chubby Sikh gentleman at the counter with rosy cheeks. A sign that good food lay ahead. We sat in the AC section. The decor was simple and spacious. There was no attempt at false kitsch. Its simplicity conjured visions of dhabas (pit stops) in Rocky and Mayur’s show on NDTV, ‘Highway on My Plate’. There was also a section with charpoys or string beds to create a fake dhaba look which was good for a large group with time at hand.
I started with a nice thick lassi. Chicken tangdi kebabs followed. Made in a tantalising tandoori masala...the right balance of colour and taste. The chicken drumsticks were fairly juicy till you came across a dead end. They were uncooked towards the centre. Left a raw taste in your mouth. Pun intended. In terms of grammage, you couldn’t eat your money’s worth. This was the only dark spot in an otherwise rosy afternoon.
The waiter had suggested butter chicken but I normally don't risk curries at such place. I sneaked a look at a butter chicken at the next table. It didn't inspire much confidence.
|Think creamy lassi|
|Tandoori chicken...medium raw|
The sarson da saag, the Punjabi winter dish made with leaves of the mustard plant, was everything Sandeep promised. Sandeep told me that they made sarson da saagat at Uttam’s by pounding the leaves and cooking the dish from scratch. Most other restaurants at Mumbai used tinned sarson puree according to him. He was right, the sarson da saag here had a reassuring rustic, coarse texture to it. A far cry from the smooth tinned paste which he warned me against. Sandeep was also right when he said that one dish would be enough for the two of us. In fact we couldn’t finish the entire serving.
We ate makki roti or rotis made with maize, the traditional accompaniment to sarson da saag. The rotis were covered with ghee and had a nice domesticated taste to it. As if lovingly made by someone’s mother. As was the kulcha that I ordered with my chicken. Another form of Punjabi roti. Piping hot, crisp and very maternal.
The food was fairly good, simple and uncomplicated. Leagues ahead of the bilge at Papa Poncho closer home. Barring the chicken, the chubby cheeks of the owner, were a pretty good statement on the quality of the food. And at Rs 450 (9 YSD) for two, we were well fed and happy.
|The famous sarson da saag|
|Sandeep, a good man to tap if you want to know more about vegetarian North Indian food. He has promised to cook for us too. For a very long time|
The ever smiling owner was a gentleman named Gursharan Singh. He used to run a bar here earlier. Then rowdy customers and greedy policemen got to him. He gave up his liquor license and started the restaurant thirty odd years back.
And has hosted many a happy family since then.
|With Gursharan Singh. A nice man to know|